omygoddess i love these boots

OK, I seriously can’t wait to show you guys pictures of my outfit. After deciding not to fuck with creating costumes for the party, I was suddenly struck by a case of free mama when the grandparents picked up Molly. So I goth’d myself up beautifully, if I do say so my own sexy self. It’s so cute; it’s like I’m channeling myself at 19 on a random weekend. Did not go for the black hair dye (I hear Type O Negative in my head now…lol) but the black cat’s eye makeup, hoop in the nostril, and shitkicker boots are vintage Heidi. Woohoo~ I love Halloween! Giddy me. And I haven’t even started drinking yet. (We had a good stash of milk in the fridge so I’m planning on being a somewhat liberal partier and pumping and dumping.

After debating that plan for days Shane begged me to chill and take a “night off.” Um, yeah. I’ll just press the pause button on my maternal instincts for the evening. I have decided, actually, that since the baby’s securely elsewhere I have permission to relax a notch or two down from my usual state of anxiety- comparable to terrorist-alert-orange I think. So there. Shane’ll be home in a few minutes and he can help me fasten my fishnets to my garter belt and ask me “where did this come from?” I’m sure I will have a pleasantly surprised husband. Poor guy perpetually sees me in an unbuttoned nightgown with milk stains. Not the most seductive of looks.

of tea and snow and apples*

It snowed yesterday, more than flurries. Enough to create that gorgeous lacy texture in the sky for a few minutes. Shane and I looked and said, "Wow. Our first snow this year," then we both looked at the baby and exclaimed, "Molly's first snow ever!" I walked out into the snow with her but she was unimpressed. Nothing exciting like, say, a ceiling fan. Now that's a good time.

We met with our job coach yesterday at a local coffee shop. I always get a chai tea, because I love, love, love chai tea. That evening Molly fought sleep more than usual. I've noticed this a few times and thought vaguely that it might be related to my little caffeine indulgences. Probably not enough to worry about, but at least in the evenings I should probably eschew the tea. We have a client meeting there this afternoon, so I'll stick with a vanilla steamed milk or a cocoa.

I'm dying to feed the baby real, tasty food. She's nearly five months, old enough in some peoples' book to have purees and cereals, but all the gurus of baby that I trust most suggest delaying food until six months. I'm with this in theory. It'll give her wee tummy more time to mature, and help prevent (possibly) food allergies. But it's so much fun to see a baby learn about the yummy texture-filled world of food. So, I broke down and offered her a spoonful of apple juice (I know- I really live on the edge.) She made the cutest scrunchy lemon face ever. Not a fan of the juice. She did open up wide for the spoon just like she knew what to do. I am a wicked mother and gave her a couple more sips just to see the adorable yuck face.

Leave me a comment with your green vegetable suggestion for her first real food. Peas? Avacado? What else can babies have that's green? Her pediatrician suggests green before yellow or orange veggies so they don't get hooked on the sweetness. Is she crazy? What do you veteran mamas think? She also said that it makes sense on the other hand to start them on something sweet like banana because breastmilk's sweet so they're familiar with sweetness.

*Well, apple juice. But I wanted to echo the title of Neil Gaiman's short story "Snow, Glass, Apples" because Neil rocks.

happy moon day

(Damn. Forgot to post Molly's moonday celebration. Am terrible blogger. Had insomnia last night even, coulda been bloggin'.)

frustration

If we didn't have this little goofy face keeping us company, we'd explode. We're on a deadline designing a website- well, building it. As usual, my design was very pretty and a terrible pain in the ass to execute.

Also have done .001% of the housework that needs done.

How am I supposed to be a mama, an administrative assistant, a graphic designer, and still have time for sleeping and eating- much less luxuries like clean house and clothing and time to spend with my husband?

toddler love and tea

My friend hosted a Tastefully Simple party last night. It was much more formal than I thought. I hadn’t been to a captive-consumer party in ages, and told V that among my friends, we’d never dream of hosting parties like that- except for the sex toys parties. But, V had given me a sample of their Chai tea mix, and it blew my mind- it was actually really good. I am a major Chai junkie, so I saved for two weeks to buy a can of the mix. (That’s a testament to how broke we are, not how expensive the tea is.)

I brought the Souster, Megan, (think soul/sister, it’s a story for another day…) along with her 3 ½ year old Alexander, and, of course, the Mollybird. The kids were amazing- barely a peep, until the ride home. The food was much, much better than I’d thought it would be- I assume that prepackaged, just-add-water stuff is crappy, but everything was tasty. I’d buy some of the spices and stuff probably. The portions were teeeeeensy, though, so we left hungry.

As soon as we tried to get the kids in the car, Alexander wigged out. “I’m ‘stared,’ Mommy!” and had to be all but forced into his seat. The commotion got Molly started, so they wailed in unison almost the whole car ride home. When it would get quiet, if Molly would so much as whimper, the little guy would start that funky toddler whiny crying. He told her to be quiet, which I found amusing but Megan didn’t appreciate. I’m starting to think he’s afraid of me. The last time she had him at the house he said “I don’t like this place,” and he was scared of my car. Hmm. He’s so much more timid and sensitive than his older brother, Viktor. Alexander’s a Pisces, and Viktor’s an Aries, and they are both very typical of their signs.

Back at Meg’s I went inside to nurse the boo, and Viktor (age 4 ½) was so cute with her! He said “Nice to meet you, baby!” And “Her fingers are so tiny! Her feet are so tiny! Her head is so tiny! etc…” Then when she popped off the breast to look around he said “I think she wants to eat some more.” I was floored by the cuteness. Oh, and Alexander disagreed with me- “Her name isn’t Molly. No.” But he was kind enough to let his Mommy pass along an adorable pea-pod costume for the baby.

After her belly was full we went to pick up Shane at our friends’ house. Molly crashed in the car on the way home and was so cute bundled up in her coat and hat with Ducky on her lap. I should have snapped a photo in the car, but I waited until we got her inside then took some. (Blogger being a pain in the ass, you can see them at our Flickr page.) After that I changed her into her pajamas and she was hysterically giggling. She does that a lot- she thinks being naked is the funniest thing in the world. I adore her.

babydoll

Sad: I googled "babydoll" to find an image to post, thinking of an old-fashioned porcelain angel faced toy. All I found was porn.

My daughter's beautiful. I'm biased, and she's more beautiful to me than she is to you even if her hugebluemooneyes beguile you, too. But she's damn pretty. I get pissed off at myself when words like "princess" and "babydoll" slip out, though. Everyone's praising her right now for her looks, and assuming this continues, how does this affect a child, especially a girl? I want her to be praised for being strong and intelligent and to know her true value to me has nothing to do with her attractiveness. At the same time, I want her to have a good self-image and celebrate her girlness and beauty.

My parents piled on the pretty praise, and I have a great self-esteem. That's a fairly wonderful thing, for me to feel beautiful when I'm also quite aware of my deformity. There's a whole complex whorl of thoughts & emotions there- I am self conscious about my body, but on the whole I'm very comfortable in my strange bones. But Molly doesn't have a birth defect that needs balanced like that. Is it teaching her the wrong thing if I keep cooing over her cuteness as she ages? Should I dole out two "you're so smart"s for every "you're so pretty?" How do I teach her to love herself but also that appearances aren't the true measure of worth? It's a funny thing- as an artist I do very much appreciate physical beauty, but I feel like I have a broad, healthy spectrum of what I find beautiful.

Oh, and again with dolls- what do you moms-of-daughters do when your little girl wants to play with a doll who represents unhealthy beauty standards or is sexualized? No Barbies/Bratz/etc? Do you let her play but explain to her, like my aunt did to a six year old me in one of my fondest memories, that no one really looks like that?

Oh, how do I raise a grrl?

new project

I've started a new project over at LiveJournal, if you're ever inclined to check out the communities there. The community "breastfeeding" has been my favorite support and information group on the web.

I hope this will be a good place to share experiences, dreams, visions, and ideas.

october 1, goth holiday extraordinaire

I worked at a family planning and abortion clinic years ago, and the Wicca was the majority religion of my co-workers. (That was so cool because there aren't too many in my area. Plus the religious right would have a heart palpitation about a bunch of witches running a clinic.) We declared October 1 a minor holiday and made it a rule that we'd all wear black, bonus points for pentagrams & gothy attire. I just cleaned, hung out with my aunt & grandma today, but I wore black because I always still do. It's like the countdown to Halloween begins. Whee!

I'm having religious conflict a little. I felt some weirdness at the group the other night, and I just don't know about my feelings. I used to be a devout little priestess in training, but it seems a little over-the-top now. At the same time I missed it terribly and feel like I need to reconnect with Persephone and Demeter, my patron Goddesses. I think part of it is I don't eat, sleep, and breathe Wicca like I used to. I devoured books, researched everything to death. I'm just not as interested in a scholarly way anymore.

My aunt brought a tiny, tiny sick kitten she found newborn & abandoned in her basement. It died on the way here. Too weak to suckle its little bottle of kitty-formula. I guess mama cat abandoned her? So my aunt was sad and then Molly was really gassy (bad broccoli eating mommy) and cried alot and I thought Pam was going to break down in tears with her. It is so pitiful to see those big eyes glass over with tears and then spill them all over her little cheeks. She was fighting sleep too. She passed out as soon as they left. And now she wakes.