Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Potty mouth

So, another post about how I may or may not be crazy.

Yes, I already know that I am.

But here is further proof:

Baby girl is a year and a half already.  But she is *only* a year and a half.

And guess what?

We are starting potty training!

I never thought we would start so early, but it seems like she is ready.

About a month or so ago, C lo was running a pretty high fever again, and the dr. couldn't find any reason for it, other than the usual "it's a virus" guess.  It's always a guess.  But then again, it is always a virus, so...*shrug*.....who knows.

Point being, I asked the dr. to run a urinalysis on her because every time she would pee in her diaper, she would grab her crotch and start crying.  I thought that maybe it hurt.  That would be a valid conclusion, based upon how she was acting.  But nope.  No infection.  She was fine.

The fever went away, as it always does

(i blame the molars)

and she continued to cry and grab at herself every time she had to pee.

And then she said THE CUTEST THING EVER.

Yes, I know she is my kid so I am biased.  A bit.


She told me "pee pee crying" when she started to go.  It sounds more like "pee pee kay-ing" and she says it in this saaad voice, which just kills me.


And from there, everything started to fall into place.  Now she tells me when she is peeing, she recognizes when she has to poop, and even tells me AFTER she is all done.  Holy mama jama, do I have a smart kid! <----biased

I now have a little potty trainer that sits in the family room, and have let her run around diaperless here and there, and even got her to sit on the potty, push that little belly in, and grunt grunt grunt!

Nothing yet, but this weekend I am going to go "balls out" and let her run naked as a jaybird.

I know without a doubt that she will catch on superfast, and i'll have a potty trained 1.5 year old.


Monday, August 16, 2010

how i learned to be a mom

I have a lot of secrets.  Things that I don't tell just anybody.  Things that aren't really that important, but are really THE most important things about me.

Everybody has their story, and this is a little bit of mine:

My parents divorced when I was 7.  I spent the majority of my youth believing that my father was an alcoholic, and that my mother was the one that left him for drinking, cheating, etc.

It turns out that my mother was the screwy one.  But I didn't know that until much, much later.

Finding out as a young adult that my mother was bipolar and also suffering from borderline personality disorder wasn't much of a shock.  It really really explained A LOT.

It helped me to understand ME that much better.  It helped me to put a name to the changing tide of emotions that I felt, the detachment I felt towards people in general, and the problems I had with my own relationships.

Had I know that crazy ran in my family, I would have done some serious soul searching and self-examination in order to understand my motivations in life.

I moved around.  A lot.  I dated abusive guys.  A lot.  I started drinking.  A lot.

At 15 I was already in the downward spiral of self-destruction.

What a way to begin, right?

But once I understood that my life up until that point was anything BUT normal, I began to heal.

I knew that being rejected by my parent wasn't MY fault.

Her hatred and anger towards me wasn't MY fault.

I WAS a good person.  And I wasn't fat or stupid or selfish or a whore or any of the other things that she said I was.

And when I finally realized that?

When that lightbulb went off in my head?

It felt like a weight....a huge weight...was finally lifted off my shoulders.

A weight I didn't even know I had.

Or maybe one that I wouldn't admit was there.


I opened up my heart and I allowed myself to LOVE.

Because before that?  It was shut.  Closed.  100%

First I loved myself.  And then I learned how to love others.

And I thought that my heart had completely opened after I accepted these things about myself.  About my family.  But I was wrong.

And then I had Chloe.  And wow!  My heart nearly burst with the love that I felt for this little girl.  And I finally felt whole.  Perfect.  Complete.

She taught me what love really is.

She taught me how to be the best mother I could possibly be.

And I remember my childhood.

And it makes me want to be THAT MUCH BETTER.

For her.

For me.

Sunday, August 15, 2010

The apple of my eye

I don't know how many times I can say it, or how many different ways, but:

my little girl is growing up.

Last weekend in NY, I had such a hard time being without her.  I was ready to leave Friday afternoon and come home to her little arms and C lo smell.  I missed her presence.  I missed her love.

I knew she was fine without me.  Daddy takes amazing care of her, and they had all kind of fantastic plans for the whole weekend.

But I missed her

My superfriend and roomie, Angel, said we could leave at any time.  She would drive me the 8 hours home if I needed to be with my baby girl.

And for that? (And a million other reasons) I love her.

And so I stayed.

And Chloe was fine.

And I was fine.

And when I got home?  My little girl hugged me SO hard, and made me feel whole again.

But here is the problem.  This little girl is just that.  A little girl.  She isn't a baby.  She is becoming SO independent.  She walks and talks and does her own thing.  I always get compliments that she is so well-adjusted.  I should be thankful, but inside?  I'm just a little sad.

I want her to need me.  I NEED her to need me.

I can't have any more kids....babies...and I need my baby to stay a baby until I'm ready.

I just don't know that I'll ever be ready.