do you like birthdays? i like birthdays. especially this one.

Last night I had a dream that I was a famous mommyblogger and got paid to just write snarky, witty things about motherhood and parenting and how EFFING AWESOME it is so I could sit around with Peyton all day in yoga pants or sweatpants or some sort of pants that don't require buttons. So I logged onto my blog this morning and saw that, oh crap, my last post was in March. And the one before that was in December(ish). That should totally set me in the right direction, yessir.

Anyway.

Do we see this sweet baby striking the totally spontaneous and TOTES adorable pose above?

WHAT THE HELL.

Also, please note that as of today Peyton still has just as much hair as in the second photo, but as her noggin has expanded, her existing hair has spread out instead of, oh I don't know, just growing in proportion.

So. We're going to be turning O-N-E in approximately one month. This child not only walks, but climbs stairs (just learned today at Nana's house: nerves=shot) and throws a temper tantrum the likes of which I have never seen. But she also dances, sings, and strings together syllables into sounds which damnit-I-wish-I-knew-what-in-the-dickens-she-is-saying-to-me (and to this day, one of my main challenges in life is deciphering toddler-speak). This is the same child who barely weighed six pounds when we brought her home, whose newborn-sized clothes were just a hair too big, and was so teeny tiny and perfect I thought if I stared at her too hard God would be like "J/K" and poof that last nine months was just a dream and YOU ACTUALLY HAVE NO BABY.

Obviously it worked out in my favor (thanks, Big Guy).

So not only am I: a.) currently working full-time, b.) successfully raising a fragile little diva life, and c.) making sure the house doesn't spontaneously combust, I am also d.) hand-stringing banners, e.) teaching myself how to bake badass cupcakes from scratch, f.) preparing to coat yarn in glue and cornstarch and make cutesy little lanterns, g.) menu-planning, h.) figuring out how to make a one-year-old girl's birthday party Father's Day-friendly (WHATTTUPPP WIFFLE BALL TOURNAMENT) and i.) burning myself with a hot glue gun on a nightly basis making the most adorable dainty little centerpieces I have ever seen in my life.

Seriously, I could probably make it to z.) if I wanted to, and then continue breaking it down for you "aa.)"-style. There is a page-long, hand-written "To-Do" list hanging from my fridge with a freaking V-Tech toy magnet, and oh ho ho, I will make that list my bitch.

The funny thing is, I am SO possessive over this party that I have only showed, like, three whole people the invitations before they were sent, and REFUSE to post any photos of the crafty stuff I've made on Facebook (unlike everything else I have ever made, because if anything I just really dig tooting my own horn) because I want it to be the most glorious surprise ever.

Denny (bless his heart) is the only witness to my crafty craftyness, but that's only because he has to endure my screeching and foul-mouthery every time I burn myself and the glassy-eyed look I get when I stumble out of the craft room with whatever it is I've made and say breathlessly and probably half-crazy, "What do you think?"

So, yes, we are throwing one of those ridiculously over-the-top first birthday parties that probably make people cringe and eyes roll right out of their skulls, and yes, we are throwing it on Father's Day (GASP! and shame on me, right?). But she deserves a fabulous party, and so we will throw one.

I really am the worst blogger ever

FOR SERIOUS.

I'm like, really really bad at this, guys! When I started this blog up, finally, after creating an account during my pregnancy, I had all the best intentions of recording and scrutinzing every little detail of life as a bloated, swollen, pregnant woman, and then of recording life as a puffy, chubby, no-longer-pregnant-but-now-responsible-for-a-freaking-tiny-fragile-life. I really was going to keep up with this. All the best intentions, damnit.

But apparently I suck at the whole "chronicling" these major life events. I wouldn't even show you Peyton's baby book, because I think maybe three whole pages of it are filled out.

So, here I am. It's March, it's 70 degrees outside today, and my baby will be nine months old tomorrow. I booked the location for her first birthday party yesterday. Party planning is officially underway and I get sad and weepy sometimes when I think about it, this little person we created who is crawling, and laughing, and smiling, and has been melting my heart every single day for the last nine months is going to be one whole freaking year old. And because it still remains to be seen if we will have another baby, I really feel like I should have been sucking up and documenting every last second.

Like seriously, guys, I took her out on our front porch yesterday and kids were getting off the bus after school. I pointed those kids out to her and told her one day she'll get to take a bus to school and naturally I cried because one day, not very soon, but soon enough, my baby will take a bus to school. And leave me behind to inhale bus fumes as it whisks her off to do whatever awesome thing it is that she'll do in school that day.

This is all not fair. Babies should be babies forever.

Babies, houses, weddings: oh my

Happy mildly belated new year, friends. I know I haven't posted in EONS, but I have so much to share. 2012 and 2013 are going to be big in our family. HUGE. So excited.

First of all: we are putting our house up for sale in March and getting the eff out of hereeee! Not out of here as in out of New Jersey, but out of our current neighborhood. We are looking forward to raising Peyton in a neighborhood with kids her own age, where there are (possibly) sidewalks and (hopefully) privacy, and (definitely) no crazy people. Denny is looking forward to having a garage. And maybe a pool. And me, I'm looking forward to a nice kitchen (even though I love the one I have now) and entertaining space. Keeping my fingers crossed that we won't have to schlep Peyton all over South Jersey for the holidays next year because we can host them and everyone will come to us. I have beautiful dreams about that scenario.

Second of all, this happened:

We're getting MARRIED! Date is set (7-13-13, one lucky number and two unlucky numbers, but I MAKE MY OWN LUCK, FOOLS), venue is booked, and I am going (happily) crazy looking at all the amazing DIY crafty things I can do. Just so, so, so excited.

And not only am I getting married next year, but my sister is too! They finally booked their wedding for January 2013. We are both going to be so busy with wedding shenanigans in the next year and a half that we won't know what to do with ourselves.

Third of all: the joys of having an incredibly mobile child are...many-faceted. Peyton does not stop moving from the time she wakes up until she falls asleep. I took her to visit with my grandparents yesterday and she crawled in circles for FOUR HOURS STRAIGHT, taking a break every so often to climb onto something, pull herself up on some piece of furniture, or to gather her surroundings in the resulting dizzyness. It's comical and amazing, because she discovers something new every day (as I type, she has discovered that yes, the coffee table is wonderful to chew on) and watching her overcome obstacles in that clumsy baby way brings me such pride and joy in my little girl that my heart almost hurts because of it.

Okay, enough sap, let's talk DIAPER CHANGES. With an increasingly mobile child comes the difficulty with which diaper changes are executed. Never in a million years did I think I would dread these times, but now it is a reality. Peyton, during diaper changes, reminds me of an alligator in the sense that an alligator spinsandspinsandspinsandspins once captured and tethered, because, you know, it wants to rip your face off since you're trying to capture it. My kid, while I'm pinning her down as best I can and fumbling frantically to get business taken care before she notices I'm even doing ANYTHING, will suddenly and forcefully use her head for leverage and arch her back so hard that I have no choice but to release due to the sheer fact that I'm terrified I will somehow harm her during her retaliation. At which point she will flip and flee as quickly as she can, diaper on or not. I can honestly admit that she has flipped and fled on two occasions that involved #2 diapers, and the outcome was not pleasant. There is something horrifying about poo smushed into the carpet because your 7 month old daughter finds it hysterical to plant her dirty little butt onto the floor while you shriek helplessly, "NNNNOOOOOO! DON'T SIT DOWWWWWN!"

Not the best quality photo, but a perfect example of not wearing any pants

due to the skillful "flip and flee"

Also, I freaking love this kid.

Teeth and sleep, sleep and teeth

As I mentioned previously, we are growin' some teefies up in here.

If you've been paying attention to Facebook, you know this is not an enjoyable experience for Peyton or for myself.

It's funny because Denny's mom told me how he got his eye teeth first. If anything, our daughter is the spitting image of her father, so I swore she would most likely take after him in her teething process as well. I was so focused on those upper gummies of hers that I paid absolutely no attention to any other area of her mouth. So convinced, I was. EYE TEETH ARE COMING FIRST.

I was also so wrong, but it's not the first time I've been mistaken, nor will it be the last (pshhh).

About two weeks ago I was doing my normal check, feeling, of course, only her upper gums, pep talking those little teeth into existence. Then Peyton BIT ME, and I felt a little nubbin on her lower gum. That thing was so effing sharp I actually cried out in a mixture of surprise and pain.

So there was a tooth. Where most babies get them. Bottom gum, front and center.

All downhill from there.

Peyton had actually been doing quite well with her sleeping. After a lot of thought and sleeplessness and TOTAL AND UTTER DEVASTATION (exaggeration) at night, I finally caved and tried the Ferber method of sleep training (am I alone in constantly thinking "Fockerize" every time I hear about the Ferber method?). Ferber encourages timed check-ins to let baby know you haven't disappeared forever, but my check-ins only induced hysteria the likes of which I have never seen and did more harm than good. Eventually I had to tearfully (both of us) leave her in her crib, tell her I loved her a million times, and then sit and wait for the crying to stop. After about a week, we could put her down and she'd be asleep in five minutes.

But I digress. Because then TEETH HAPPENED.

Alllllllll downhill.

I couldn't just let my baby CRY while her MOUTH HURT. That's barbaric. And then she got sick. I couldn't let my baby CRY because she's SICK, DAMNIT. So back we went, rocking and nursing until she was sound asleep. I undid all my hard, stressful (seriously, it was the hardest thing I ever had to do) work. I would try to put her down, sound asleep, but NOW the second she hit the mattress, her little eyes popped open.

PARTY TIME.

Gentle encouragement, that "no, darling, this is not playtime, this is sleep time" does not translate well to babies. I am such a sucker for that quivering lip and tear-filled eyes.

A huge sucker.

Now I make excuses:

"She's getting her second tooth; she's in pain."

"She had a fever on Friday!" (it's TUESDAY.)

"She misses me already!"

"I just changed her crib sheet. She must not like the pattern."

Now we're back at square one.

But baby is better now, no more nasty cold and the fluid in her ear must have miraculously disappeared because no symptoms of an ear infection ever popped up. And now, since Sunday night, we are enduring the brutality that is bedtime in our household, trying to get my baby to sleep on her own again.

And tooth number two is coming in, guns a-blazing.

I have the strange feeling that the next few months are going to be a vicious cycle of sleep, teeth, no sleep, rinse, repeat.

But did I mention that those teeth are freaking ADORABLE? I love me some gummy baby smiles, but there's something about those two little teeth that KILL ME.

Thing 1 and Thing 2, I've named them.

Chaos, just chaos

We're still alive over here.

Things have been, in a word, INSANE since Thanksgiving. I'm further embracing my inner Martha Stewart and getting way too crafty for my own good. Making lots of gifts homemade this year, which is awesome and it makes me feel pretty darn productive.The dining room table has taken a hit though, since it's currently where I'm storing all my goodies.

My goal was to ultimately finish up my shopping/crafting this week so I could enjoy the week preceding Christmas and do Christmas-y things and just relax. But I'm realizing my slacker self would have benefitted immensely from, oh I don't know, maybe starting my Christmas shopping and planning back in OCTOBER.

This is pretty much my train of thought once October hits:

"Oh wow, Halloween is in a few weeks. Can't believe the holidays are so soon! I should at least START my shopping."
"Oh wow, it's Halloween...candy! No shopping yet, but I still have all of November. I'm golden!"
"November 1st, turkey soon! Maybe I should just start picking up just one gift a week."
"Thanksgiving! Well, I haven't gotten anything yet, so I might as well try out Black Friday and see how that works out."
"It's December already! Good thing I got TWO WHOLE GIFTS on Black Friday." (This one is actually somewhat false. I finished all my shopping for baby and absolutely no one else, HAAAAA.)

Next thing I know it's December 16 with all this to do:

Finish shopping
Finish homemade gifts
Wrap all of the above
Bake a crap-ton of cookies
Physically and mentally prepare for the whirlwind that will be December 24th and 25th.

It really doesn't seem like a lot when I write it out, but throw a sick baby (POOR BABY!) and a sick mommy (POOR ME!) into the mix and it seems pretty daunting. With only eight days left.

Once it's all done it'll feel pretty good. But in the meantime I am locking myself in the house and turning this place into a veritable Santa's workshop.

I WILL PUT THE FAT MAN IN RED TO SHAME.

SHAAAAAAAAAME.

PS: Peyton now crawls, sits up, AND has two teeth. I feel inclined to reiterate how much teething sucks, but those little baby teefies are ADORABLE.

PPS: I can't wait until we move into a big big house where I can host holiday festivities and everyone will come to ME.

What we've been up to

Holy busy month of November. I feel like it has been non-stop since Halloween. Plus I feel like I have nothing relevant to write about, thus I had nothing to post all month.

Bad blogger, BAD.

So instead of leaving a complete and utter void in this space, here's what we've been up to:

This started happening right after Halloween:

I can't stress this enough...my kid does wear pants.

Yep, my teeny tiny baby crawls now. At five months old. This prompted a meltdown of epic proportions since MY SWEET BABY IS GROWING UP SO FAST, and also since it remains to be seen if she will be the only baby we have. It's happening so fast it breaks my heart.

Peyton has reflux. The good doctor prescribed her Zantac and HOLY MOLY it's like she's a whole new child.

SO HAPPY.
SO SMILEY.
HARDLY CRIES.
NAPS FOR MORE THAN 20 MINUTES.

Whyyy did it take us almost five months to figure this out?!

I started crocheting, thanks largely to "Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 3". Once that game entered our house, I figured it was time to pick up a hobby that would pass the time spent listening to simulated gunshots and explosions that were bound to fill our home. So I made a few scarves and some hats so far:

Peyton obliges to show off the goodies.

.

.

.

.

Just kidding.

I'm also getting crafty. Crafty as hell. I'm scaring myself with just how crafty I'm getting. Pictures of goodies to come.

Another reason why I haven't been blogging as much is because I've been introduced and addicted to Pinterest. So instead of blogging I'm pinning and repinning and ohIjustloveitsomuch. Try it, you'll love it.

Thanksgiving happened. It was wonderful, but so busy. So many people to see, and only one day to do it. I had an itinerary that had us down to the minute. Sucks, but it had to be done and it worked out perfectly and required no stress about being late or whatever. JUST FOLLOW THE DAMN SCHEDULE. It really was a great day. Lots of food and family. Reasons #2 and #1 (respectively) why I love the holidays.

Black Friday also happened, oh ho ho, Black Friday. I've never gone out on Black Friday before, especially in those wee hours of the morning, but I figured I'd give it a shot this year. There was a particular toy I'd had my eye on for Peyton that was heavily discounted at Target, so I put on my crazy pants and out I went at 12:30 (pleeeease, I wasn't waiting in any lines for that place to open--I gotta draw the line somewhere). Baby and Denny sleeping soundly at home.

It was, shall we say, a special experience.

I went by myself so I was only willing to get in and get out, and not to use the experience as a socialize and shop event. So methodical, I am. Anyway, there was this woman there with an infant. I'm talking brand-spanking-new infant. Outside, in the cold. I put my Judgey McJudgerface on, but went about my business. Until I passed the rack with PJs (!!!) on sale that I wished to peruse quickly, quietly, and politely before I moseyed on over to the toys. But lo and behold, there was this woman, with HER BABY BALANCING ON THE TOP PART OF A SHOPPING CART (cringeee), completely blocking any and all access to the desired PJs with her cart and her posse of five or six large women. I tried to peek around them, hoping maybe they'd be nice and let me take a look as well, but nope. They stayed put. I huffed and puffed and might have rolled my eyes, but no dice. Bitches ain't movin'.

So off I went to toys and (cue singing angels) the toy I wanted was there and it was the last one one the shelf. I grabbed it and silently gloated in my discounted shopping luck.

Here comes the woman, her precariously balancing baby, and her gaggle of girlfriends. Looking for my toy. She asks her girlfriend to find the toy on sale (MY TOY!), but they picked up the wrong one and off they went to annoy other shoppers. I said to her "Oh yeah, this is the one. I'm getting one for my daughter and I'm sure she'll love it."

Dumb lady didn't even look in my cart to see that the actual toy that was on sale was in my cart. KARMA, BETCH.

Then I went back to the PJs, scored a few cutes ones for the babykins, and that was the end of my Black Friday shopping ordeal. Home by 2:00 AM. My kind of shopping.

Now our house is decorated, we'll probably get our tree some time in the next week or two, and I can officially start revelling in the wonder that is the holiday season. Getting to relive our childhood traditions and maybe starting a tradition or two of our own is, by far, my most favorite part of this particular time of year.

It's the most wonderful time of the yearrrr!

I'm already in the holiday spirit. I will not lie, I have enjoyed some festive Christmas music already. I had to stop myself from purchasing Michael Buble's Christmas album yesterday. I've already started planning out Christmas light schematics for the house.

My favorite time of the year is here!

It is kind of bizarre that Christmas officially starts at like, 12:00 AM, November 1. I kind of hate that Christmas has turned into a big, consumer-driven hoopla. I don't really appreciate the holiday season for that, though. There's just something about Christmas that is really special. It will be especially special this year, thanks to my little munchkinface. I know she'll only be six months and won't remember a single thing, but OH MY GOD I am so excited.

But first: Thanksgiving. I'm already having dreams about my mom's string bean casserole. Peyton's Thanksgiving outfit is already in her closet (has been since August). I'm planning out my Black Friday shopping (if I even decide to go). I'M JUST SO EXCITED I WILL GO TOTALLY CAPS-HEAVY WITH EVERYTHINGGG!

Some belated Halloween photos:

The candy. Ohhh, the candy. I didn't take Peyton trick-or-treating this year because, honestly, a grown woman pushing her tiny little baby to your door to trick or treat...you know damn well who that candy is for. Plus it was so, so cold. I did want to show her off, though, so we visited with some family and friends instead. A very busy, exciting evening, indeed. 

Peyton was exhausted after all was said and done:

And so was Daddy, apparently.

I still have 30 pounds to lose, but we still have so much candy. And it's all the good stuff, too, so I can't even be like "Bahhh, it's just Sweet Tarts and Milk Duds." No no, friends...I have so many Reese's cups in my house it's like a factory opened next door.

But I will BEAT the candy. I will stare that Reese's cup in the face and prevail.