and other random thoughts for today.
1. I don't have diabetes...yet. But I've convinced myself that that is where I'm heading. Somewhere between not wanting to eat anything (aka pregnancy) and having a six month old, my eating habits have DRASTICALLY changed. I think, on the whole, I ate very healthily when I was pregnant, thanks mostly to Dustin who pretty much force fed me things like spinach and other equally healthy/gross foods. Then, when Kiz arrived, it all went to shit. A kid occupies ALL your time at this age. Every second is spent catering to the whim of a tiny tyrant who looks an awful lot like you. So you really kinda put yourself on hold for a while. (I'm assuming you regain yourself somewhere between potty training and college.)
I went from really taking care of myself to sometimes legitimately forgetting how long it's been since I washed my hair. On the rare instance I do put on makeup, I half ass it because it's been so long since I've done it I don't have the patience to do it right. I barely wear real clothes any more...right now I have on a winter themed, flannel, button down MEN's pajama top, a maternity tee shirt, American Eagle sweatpants from 1998, one ankle sock and one fuzzy sock. And I have already deemed this outfit acceptable as I took Kiz for a walk around the neighborhood yesterday wearing the SAME DAMN SHIT.
But for all the suffering of my outside appearance, I think my diet has suffered the worst. I was already not so great about good eating habits...but now it's just horrible. First of all, I never eat breakfast. The first thing I put into my body is Red Bull. Usually I'm washing down some benadryl with that because I have chronic hives. Through my day with the baby, I am just grabbing something that's already made and that I can eat with one hand. Usually a donut, a roll, a hostess snack, a piece of bread...anything that's quick and easy. Then we often skip dinner because by the time Dust gets home from work, the baby is already spiraling into her bedtime cranky party and by the time THAT show is over we are exhausted and go to sleep.
And that's it. VERY rarely, I get ambitious and make a decent dinner, but I often regret it due to the amount of dishes I have to do afterwards (usually the next morning) while the baby cries at something random, like the fridge.
So since all I eat is sugar and liquid sugar, I'm definitely going to get diabetes.
2. I'm starting to think that being a parent is the same thing as the entire world gathering on your front lawn to give you the finger. It's like, you're happy everyone showed up, but sad because everyone hates you. Every single effing time I think I'm doing a good job and have this parenting thing down pat, something really awesome happens to ruin it all...like teething. This is just re-God-Damn-diculous at this point. We had finally established a good routine: sleeping for a long time at night, eating different foods, taking scheduled naps...and then BAM...it's all gone because of two teeny tiny teeth.
Kiz has decided that she fucking hates her new teeth. If she had the mobile dexterity, I'm absolutely postive she would have ripped them out of her jaw bone by now. In addition to hating her teeth, she also now hates sleeping, eating, burping without spitting up and anyone who gets in her dance space.
I know the lack of sleep and fussy eating is because her mouth feels like shit, and I know the extra vomiting is a result of all the mucus and drool from her new mouth residents...but the being scared of everyone is a new development that I'm pretty sure isn't related to teeth.
Kiz has come to believe that everyone who isn't me or Dustin is trying to kill her. Grandparents wanna snuggle? Nope, Kiz is gonna cry and make them feel like garbage. Little kid wants to say hi? Nope, Kiz is gonna scream until the other kid is crying too. Cashier at K-Mart wants to look over at you and tell you you're cute? Nope...too much eye contact. Total meltdown.
So yeah. All that is awesome.
3. My 32nd birthday is tomorrow. Earlier this week I spent a good 20 minutes legitimately trying to figure out how old I was gonna be this year. I had to do math and shit. I imagine that the panic and anxiety that I felt in those 20 minutes is akin to the beginning stages of "old person crazy." Something to look forward to, I suppose.
4. We now have so much baby crap in our house, it looks like the playroom at McDonald's. All this colorful stuff that looks like fun but is probably covered in spit up. Since Kiz doesn't get much interaction with the outside world or people besides her parents, I worry about her development and make it a point to be sure she's interacting with age appropriate toys and bouncers and all that shit. I've never been overly organized or good with a schedule, but ever since the kid arrived, that's changed. I find myself being rather rigid with her schedule, especially during the week when I'm alone. But anyhow, every few weeks I'll panic that she's not getting the proper interactions/physical challenges and we end up buying her a new something colorful that promises to make your baby awesome. Kiz doesn't much care for anything we've purchased, rather she likes to play a game called "let's see how long it takes them to come rescue me from this contraption if I scream as if I'm being eaten by sharks."
5. Sometimes the cat looks over at me and I know that she's thinking she hates me and new, louder, tinier me.
6. The other day, I was playing on the floor with Kiz when out of the corner of my eye, I saw what looked like a thick shoelace. Then it started crawling. It was the hugest centipede I've ever seen. I think it was in training to be a snake. Dustin was at work so I had to get rid of it. I scooped it on a huge folder and threw it outside. The only time I put an insect outside is if I surmise that killing it would result in more guts than can be cleaned in one grab and a loud crunching or squishing noise as accompaniment.
7. I think it's time someone invented either the flying car or smell-o-vision. I'd be equally happy with either.
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