Andi’s exciting life.

I just saw this photo as the random image when looking at our gallery:

First of all, it is hilarious, and second of all, based on this I should have seen it coming early on that Falco was going to be a little nuts. I mean, look at that expression when he was only 4-1/2 months old. That kid was born crazy.

Yesterday was a bad day. Falco woke up acting like an ass, and I was short on patience so didn’t act so nice myself. Having a kid that keeps hitting you, intentionally getting into trouble, and laughing when you get mad about it is not a good match for a grouchy mom. (It’s unclear if I was already in a bad mood or if he brought it out in me.) On top of our rotten moods, he refused to nap, which really sealed it to be one of his worst days ever.

Today, on the other hand, was great. He had his first dentist appointment this morning, which I was kind of dreading and expected the worst (the worst being screaming and crying and restraining). We got to the dentist, and there was a TV in the room. The extremely nice hygienist turned on Baby Einstein, and for a kid who isn’t allowed to watch television, it was like crack. She talked to us for a while and explained everything to Falco in a fun way, and he was very cooperative. She was able to brush and polish all his teeth without a fight, and she said he was probably the best one-year-old she had seen. The dentist came in to count his teeth and whatnot and said he looked great. Then he got to pick a prize out of the treasure chest (drawer), and he was very proud of his new ball and sticker.

This afternoon, I took him to a couple places without our usual restraint system of a carrier or stroller or shopping cart. We went to a cafe and got a coffee and cookie, and he very politely sat in a chair and ate his cookie and talked to other customers. Then we went to the grocery store, and he stayed with me (somewhat) and helped carry the groceries (kind of). Afterwards, we went to the garden store, where he walked around and smelled flowers and even carried his own plant to the car. It was like going on an outing with a real human being instead of a baby (or the spawn of Satan he was yesterday). He is pretty excited about his plant, and we’re going to put it in the ground tomorrow. I’ll make an effort to not let it die, but I’m not making any promises.

1. Brie. I try to avoid it, but it’s so heavenly good, especially with No Knead Bread.
2. Wine. You mean this stuff has calories? And five ounces is a serving?
3. Super burritos. I do get “no cheese,” but it probably doesn’t counteract the guacamole and sour cream and carne asada.
4. Salmon. Yeah, I know it’s supposed to be the “good fat” and all, but not when you eat six to eight ounces at a time over a mound of rice on a weekly basis.
5. French fries. How can a vegetable be anything but good for me?

There are plenty of foods I avoid like real mayo or scones or premium ice cream or Snickers, but the foods in this list are staples that I don’t want to live without. Why must they be so delicious?

This afternoon, Falco and I were hanging out with some of our playgroup posse. He slipped and fell and didn’t really hurt himself but looked scared and embarrassed, which usually requires a quick hug before he gets back to business. My friend, who Falco has known since he was seven months old, picked him up to hug him. He kept saying, “Mommy! Mommy!” and reaching for me. My heart swelled. I took him from her, and that was one of the best hugs I’ve ever gotten. That moment makes all the work and frustration and compromise and exhaustion of motherhood more than worth it. I love being the mommy, and I wouldn’t trade that role or my kid for anything.

(Remind me of this the next time I rant about Falco incessantly hitting the dog.)

Monday evening, Falco put two words together for the first time.
Ooh! A sentence! I’ve been waiting for this! Can you guess what
his first sentence was? Here’s a hint:

Yeah, that’s right. He repeatedly said, “Falco barrette” (”Gucko
bip” if you don’t speak Falco) while pointing to his hair. His first
sentence was asking to wear a barrette in his hair, just like Mommy.
He has also shown maybe too much interest in my bras lately. I’ll be
interested to see where this leads.

Falco has never made me laugh as hard as when he was chewing this lemon. That boy ain’t right.

Just went in to check on Falco, and he’s sleeping with his hand down
his pants. Classy.

I’ve had it with you, denim. HAD IT! I’m so over buying jeans that fit great when I try them on and then completely change after wearing and/or washing them. I’m a 31-year-old mom. I don’t want low-rise jeans that enhance and accentuate muffin top. This already severely limits my choices. So, when I try on jeans that actually have a zipper longer than two inches that fit, I’m thrilled. But that is hardly the end of the story.

Try as I might to avoid it, I have to actually wash jeans after one or two dozen wears, and then what happens? Said pants shrink so that the rise and length are too short. Ann Taylor and Eddie Bauer, I’m talking to you here. At least that’s one problem. The other side of the coin is that, again, the pants fit great in the store and I’m happy, feeling stylish and great and comfortable. But with that comfort comes stretch, and with that stretch comes ill-fitting pants. Gap is the worst on this front. The pants stretch so badly that they are all of a sudden too big and falling down even though they fit perfectly when I bought them.

What now? Buy pants too big and long to compensate for shrinking or too small to plan for stretching? This seems like the ticket to even more poorly fitting clothes that I can’t wear. I was so fed up and desperate today that I wore this cross between sweats and yoga pants to playgroup today. Mind you, I was hosting at my own house, but still. I don’t usually wear drawstring pants in the company of anyone but my family. This is a slippery slope. I need denim help. I’m afraid to pay a lot for jeans, thinking my problem is that I’m just getting poor quality, and then waste even more money on pants that end up the wrong size. This is all the more reason to work harder on my dress and skirt aspirations. If only it weren’t 50 degrees here right now it would be a lot easier.