And Now A Word From Our Sponsor....

mn ecec i u ,o v fml rv r g f d l jjjjjjhcxkuj dryh

3333333333333ZQAzs xxxxxxxxxxxxC`1`1`

3- 2 -ZXFDCzazzzz 4TC XC
u_o

Brynn typed all that, including the font change to Bold. Obviously, it is a brilliant proof demonstrating the fallacy of the currently accepted principles of particle physics' String Theory but beyond that it is over my head.

And you thought this blog wasn't particularly edumacational.

Doctor No

I've read that during the first year it is important to expose your child to as much language as possible to help form neural connections. There's apparently a direct correlation between the number of words a child hears in their first year and their intelligence later in life. Sadly, this research doesn't seem to take into account the fact that every second word you say from the time your child begins to crawl is NO.

No - don't do that.
No - don't touch that.
No - don't go there.
No - that's not even remotely edible.
No - cats don't enjoy having their tails pulled.
No - that will electrocute you if you chew on it.
No - throwing yourself head first off the couch probably won't end well.

I think I'm going to have to start just sticking random five dollar words into all the No's I'm having to say so my child doesn't end up with a one word vocabulary and an IQ of 4. For example, I could try saying things like: No, my adorable progeny, that's not yours. Don't be so megalomaniacal. (This isn't yours. Not everything is yours.) OR Beloved! No more obstreperous screeching. Please strive to be more unobtrusive. (Quiet, kiddo. Mommy can't hear out of her left ear anymore thanks to you) No, what you're trying to do is quixotically temerarious. (What you're trying to do is suicidal. Please reconsider.)

Too much??

Momma Say WTF

Here's a little confession for you. I'm a type A personality with a perfection complex. I suck at sucking. I have a pathological need to excel and when I find something I just can't master, I invoke the famous Worth, "Let us never speak of this again," clause. It comes in handy when you need to continue labouring under the delusion that you are good at everything. Of course, there's now a whole laundry list of things that are taboo to talk about in my house but that's beside the point.

What was my point again?

Every single time I lose touch with reality and begin thinking I've finally got this mothering shtick figured out, something happens that brings the message back home to roost that no, I REALLY don't have a clue. There are days where things are so bad I figure my kid is lucky I've figured out how to dress myself, let alone her. Of course, those are the days we both hang around the house looking like scary-ass hobos but we never talk about those days here. And you'll never speak of them again either, right?

Anyway. We recently started our little Buggedy Boo on solids. Twice a day I've been mixing up some rice cereal and spooning it into her mouth while making what I hope are convincing "yum yum" noises. As of yesterday this lovely little domestic routine went off the rails. She used to smile and obligingly swallow her goop - I mean delicious, tasty rice cereal - but now I get the look of death and a fine, ricey spray all over my face for my troubles. Why? I don't know and this simply doesn't compute in my universe. In my universe, I know the why's. I always know the why's.

Since the only person why knows what the hell is going on is unable to tell me, for now I just have to suck it up 'cause this is one thing I can't see Scott agreeing to never mention again.

Hand to Mouth

Just in case the title of this post has you wondering: no, this is not another rant about the impossibility of surviving on the financial crumbage the government seems to think is enough to tide people over. Like to see those Conservative fat cats survive on pogey, especially with a kid that grows so fast they could practically hear it.

Nope. Not about that at all.

This is about my daughter's tendency to put everything in her mouth. Normal? Yes. Hygienic? Umm...not so much.

She just doesn't have any fear. I'm a borderline germophobe so this freaks me out to the max. For example, she cries like it is "theeee eeeend of the woooooorld" when I take a moment to wash the soother she's just dropped in some cat litter. Sadly, she doesn't seem to appreciate how lucky she is that I'm not following my instincts and sending it off to some secret government lab to be irradiated after exposing it to the vacuum of space for a month or so. Apparently, germs just don't exist in her little universe yet. Of course, I'll have plenty of time to instill a healthy (and by healthy I mean extreme) fear of germs as she gets older, but in the meantime...shudder.

So here's just a sampling of the items that have found their way into her mouth over the last couple of days despite my best efforts. Some of this stuff is pretty mundane but towards the end, it gets a bit hairy...both literally and figuratively.

Dr. Seuss book
Cover of one of mommy's novels freshly ripped from the book (sob!)
Lint Roller
Daddy's cell phone
Newspaper
Diet Coke bottle (yes, I'm still an addict. Subject for another post.)
Soother
Soother with cat hair on it
Soother that cat had just licked
daddy's clean laundry
daddy's dirty sock
clean diaper
and a near miss of a dirty diaper (phew!)

Sadly, this isn't an exhaustive list and it doesn't even come close to showing everything she's mouthed that has made me cringe or run for the Javex. Javex for the item, not the kid...just in case you were wondering. And yes, I know there's some sicko out there who was wondering just that.

Oops! Gotta go. She's about to chew on the cat.

Postscript: The day after I posted this she decided my left ankle is the most delicious looking thing in creation. Since I'm relatively clean, I'm content to let her gnaw on my leg if it'll keep her from hoovering up dust bunnies and cat litter. Wow...does anyone else think that last sentence makes me sound a) lazy and b) like a slob? Yeah. I think it does too.

No Comment

After my last post, Scott wanted to talk about my blog...again. Stubborn bugger, isn't he? This time however, he apparently decided to be more careful about how he broached the subject so he "just happened to mention" having made a comment and asked if I had seen it.

Of course, I hadn't and when I said as much he suggested I go back online to read it.

Intrigued? You bet your ass 'cause although he reads my blog, he doesn't often post.

Confused? Hmmm...that too because I checked the blog. Again. And then again. There isn't anything there from him. It seems my dear hubby hasn't quite figured out how to post anything on my blog. Is this a good thing?

My response is the same as his apparently was: no comment.

The Soup Kitchen

Scott sat me down last night and wanted to talk about my last post. Apparently, he is concerned that "Will Blog for Diapers" is going to give everyone the idea that we're one step away from wrapping our kid's delicate, snow white derriere in saran wrap filled with wads of kleenex I've scrounged from the bottom of my purse. Personally, I think he's not worried so much about "everyone" as he is worried about his mom and his aunties getting the wrong idea.

Since I like his mom and aunties and I don't want them to worry, I thought a blog entry to clear up any potential misunderstanding might be a good idea. So for the edification and edumication of all interested parties, here goes: Brynn has diapers. Lots of diapers - scads, as a matter of fact. We're diaper heaven here so there is no need to worry. Of course, I'm living on a combination of Campbell's vegetable soup, stale Triscuits, and Kraft dinner but who needs luxuries like meat or fresh fruit and veggies? They're soooo overrated.

See Scott? I paid attention and your concerns matter to me.

Mission accomplished.