SpongeTen SquareMonths

Before I had children, and then when I had only one child, I planned to be fabulous at childhood documenting.  I condemned every too-busy mother who ever lived as I wrote detailed letters in KJ's baby book every four to six weeks for the entire first year of his life, outlining exactly how many times he made poopies that month and which words he learned with proper genius pronunciation.  His first blonde little curl of hair lives there, as do pictures of his first Disney vacation, and even grocery store receipts should he ever wonder what the going price for a brick of Imperial Margerine was back in '02.  Jack has pictures in his book, and a handful of words, as well.  I can't remember if his hair is in there or not, and his book still boasts blank slots for baby's first birthday.  Or, wait, did I fill that in one other time when a bout of guilt struck?  And also, it seems to me that I've also blogged this before but cannot remember that either.  Maybe I just talked about it with a friend?  Am fabulous at parenting.  Usually remember to bring all children along when leaving the house.  Score!

Regardless, my daughter Marin shall inherit a spiffy clean baby book, and this blog. It turns out I am just like every other mother of multiple children and simply cannot find the time for documenting (or, fine, yes, I possibly could while my daughter makes busy rummaging through the front closet on a mission to lick the soles of each person's shoes, but that is normally the time of day I run the vacuum and change the bags in the kitchen recycle cans, ensuring that at least she can later gnaw on mostly clean garbage while I prepare lunch.)  (And hence, bare baby book.)

I've been thinking for a couple weeks now that this month needed to be documented.  It was so busy, and so packed with milestones that one day my daughter might wonder about. 

You know, like at what point in her little life we made a forced pit stop at Burger King, her vegetarian father's personal favorite, where she donned Baby's First Jonas Brothers Cardboard Crown and consumed baby's first french fry.  (It was nine months, baby.)

Admitting to the blogosphere that I fed my nine-month-old baby french fries, by default or not, is sort of like begging for the condemning glare I received when my six year old ratted me out to another mother in the Osh Kosh Outlet Store earlier this week as he proudly announced that his baby sister loves a good peanut butter sandwich.  Hey Lady, our three year old gave her a peanut and then we were all Woo-hoo! No Peanut Allergy! just after we were all Woo-hoo!  Didn't choke to death! 

Hang on.  I'm getting way out there.  Back to the milestones.

No she hasn't toppled down the stairs while eating honey and playing with matches yet. Why do you ask?

At Marin's nine month doctor visit our pediatrician was a bit surprised that she wasn't crawling yet, and told me to give her a call if she wasn't on the move by ten.  I continued to thank my lucky stars that I had a late crawler on my hands, and went on my merry way (people, I've had two crawlers before this one- I KNEW what I was in for.)  So two weeks later, she crawled.  Then two days later she became a pro at pulling things over on herself pulling up, and days after that she figured out that she could actually move along the furniture.  During this handful of days she also mastered her own versions of the words This, Kitty, and Danny (our canine) and has learned to very sternly exclaim NONONO! when she suddenly declares meal time to be over, just before she attempts a solo exit from the high chair. This week I have also witnessed her let go of the couch at least a dozen times and stand for a brief second before plopping to the floor, and tomorrow she has Olympic Hurdles penciled in on her baby calendar. 

See?  Milestones, yes?

As if that wasn't enough, we are also cutting teeth numbers two and three as we speak, and have summer colds.  And if I hadn't previously stressed the constant pulling up, may I now encourage you to put together the trifecta of teeth, snot-fest and standability for the mighty result where No One Here Is Getting Any Sleep. 

Two nights ago, only one hour past the sweaty battle that has become Marin's bedtime routine, little Miss was standing in her crib wailing yet again.  Having just fallen asleep myself, still in that angry-bear-unconscious-zone-of-the-dead, I shoved my snoring husband out of bed, Garfield and Odie-Style, directing him to bring back the baby and the baby Tylenol.

So while the now-happy-as-pie baby and I waited in bed for Kevin to return with meds, I rested back down on my pillow and my daughter pulled up on my head.  She was having a great time tearing my hair out by the roots when I began to ask her who the happy baby was.  It was her, of course, but I never quite got that question out, as my daughter quickly interrupted by throwing up in my eyes and nose.

Ohhhh Lordy indeed that's one for the baby book.  If I kept up with that sort of thing.

My immediate reaction was to shut my eyes and feel around for the burp cloth I'd been wiping her snotty nose with (oh the concepts that no longer seem so gross and so I Would Never, like using a mucus-laden cloth to wipe your face when you find your eyeballs swimming in half-digested carrots and cottage cheese.)  That's when Kevin entered the room, still half-asleep with the Tylenol in hand.  While studying my face suspiciously he asked, What the hell happened to you? 

This all while Marin is still atop my head and baby vomit is pooling in my eye sockets and nasal cavities.

Get herrrr offff of me, I rather loudly suggested to the clearly naive man. 

Once I was cleaned up and the baby was fed (again) and ready to fuss herself to sleep, our subdivision's power randomly went out for an hour, the house temperature reached a fan-less one hundred and ten degrees, KJ immediately went bananas that no night lights were working and the moon was not! bright! enough! and Jack slept through all of it because God is at least Merciful, and also sooo funny.

So happy ten month birthday (several days ago) to my fantastic daughter.  May we slow down into this new phase of fun now that it has begun.

And may she get at least one chance to ride her new pony.

Comments

[Crystal]

I have 3 children as well and not one has a single word in their baby books. Actually, I didn't even bother to buy baby books for the last two.

At least your daughter wants to eat real food. My daughter is almost a year and still on pureed baby food, as she promptly spits out anything else.

[Stacey]

Yes! I have the SAME baby books as you...poor Delaney. And good Lord, how I love your blog. That was a good one, vomit and all ;)

[Nikki]

Oh, Molly, you write so well. They'll always be able to look back on your blogs.

[Erica]

I am the mom who hasn't even completed her first child's book, much less the third one. I do have books for all 3, just nothing written in them. I am going to go back when they are like 30 and make a big fat collage in their "books' of milestones..for example at 3 days old we brought you home and I was so happy because I could have my first glass of wine in like 10 months. Oh and you slept, ate and pooped a lot. I will pay for the therapy, I guess.
Oh and Yum...vomit in the mouth. Lovely way to start, or end your day.

[Jenny]

Why does she have to be growing out of babyness so fast :(

[Laylabean]

Just like you said on my blog, I always think our babies are a lot further apart in age. Only four months? No way. She's adorable, I love that mischievous look in her eye.

I have a hard time keeping up with baby books too. I finally sat down and updated Liam's baby calendar, I was ONLY three months behind! Ugh.

[rkmama]

I loved this post, especially "...where she donned Baby's First Jonas Brothers Cardboard Crown and consumed baby's first french fry."

We are also guilty of the peanut butter and french fries before One milestone...eh, there are worse things. Like baby vomit up your nose. Gross, but a good story :).

I have a documenting complex so both my kids have 3+ baby books/milestone records each. I realize that this will ensure them not to give a crap. Ah, well.

[BetteJo]

OMG is it WRONG that I am STILL laughing out loud at everything starting where Marin vomited, burp cloth, get her off me - LOL! I'm sorry I'm sorry but oh my God that's priceless!!!