13 months!

My baby is not a baby anymore!

She walks, talks so much she can tell me exactly what she wants, and has made messing up the living room into a science.

Tonight is a rare night I got to myself, so I could clear the living room of toys and baby books, and I miss her so much. It's only been 4 hours but I feel like a part of me is missing.

She took her first steps trying to get to the in-law's dog, Buddy. That whole day she walked like a pro, toddling from JP to me and to her toys. The next morning she realized that she could fall, and since then she only takes a few tentative steps. I think she's getting more used to it though, and hopefully soon she'll be running through the house.

She also talks so much more/so much better! I can ask her where her dinosaur is, and she'll show it to me, but if I ask her if she wants to go see her dinosaur, she'll shake her head no or yes (no for the dinosaur because she's still terrified of it!). She understands the difference between going somewhere and knowing what/where it is.

Pip and Willow frolicking in the leaves. 

She's also said more words! Pip, my grandfather's dog, car, nose, toes. . But mostly, she knows what things are and is practicing how to say them. She know's where her hair/hat, belly, vagina (yes, we're teaching her the actual words for her body parts), fingers, eyes, teeth and tongue are.

She knows when she's making a poopoo (hooray for the first steps towards potty training. . Also, did I mention my baby isn't a baby anymore?!?) and has only peed on my mom's bathroom floor when her diaper was off (twice, so maybe it's because the floor is wood and she can see her pee?).

In other news, she's also developed quite an attitude. I've heard about the terrible two's, but I think they start about now and escalate. She's started yelling "no, no, no!" when she doesn't want to do something or knows she's not supposed to do something. . . Which is weird because we rarely yell at her, unless it's something serious and we need her attention right then. She's stopped whining when she doesn't want to do something or is put into her pack and play or excersauser and started talking angrily. It's adorable for about a second. She also goes limp and lays on the floor when we try to get her to go somewhere. But, all in all, her attitude isn't that bad, and really, what can I expect. . She's my kid!!

She has 7 teeth. Four on the top front, two on the bottom and one molar. It took a few weeks to get used to her having front teeth, but they're adorable and it looks like she'll have a gap in her teeth like I do! (D'awww!)


Edit: Holy god! I forgot to mention that she's sleeping on her own now. Yeah. I finally decided to get it done, so we changed her crib into a toddler bed, put it on bed risers so it was fairly level to our bed (which is on a box spring) and just did it. Obviously, I am against the cry it out method. Not only does it seem heartless, but I must confess that I tried it twice. It was a few months ago and even though I had heard all the bad stuff and really, really didn't agree with it, it was like 4 am and I was at my wits end. But it didn't work. At all.

So, what we did try is I nursed her till she was full, then laid right next to her, but in our bed, and she in her crib. I sang to her, patted her back, let her nurse (while leaning over into her crib) when she was crying harder than I thought was ok and generally comforted her. It took an hour and forty five minutes the first night. An hour and forty five minutes of crying. It was awful. But, I never left her side. I sang Twinkle Twinkle Little Goddamn Star until I honestly didn't even know the meaning of the words anymore. But she fell asleep eventually. The next day it was only about 45 minutes of crying. And now, on a bad night, it'll be 30 minutes of tossing and turning and trying to come into our bed. Usually she tries to make me talk or laugh or distract me. "Mama? Mama? Toes." *Bounces* "Dog." On a good night, she crawls into her crib herself, turns over onto her belly and is out. She actually sleeps better on her own!!!! And so do I!

I'm going to miss sleeping next to her, but it's not that different, because she's only two feet away from me now, and if she or I need cuddles, we have immediate access to them. I don't know if this is considered co sleeping, but it's pretty awesome.

Her sleeping right next to me was awesome in it's own way, but honestly, overall, I don't like co sleeping. (Crunch gasp commence.) Maybe it's because I have a fucked up back but it is uncomfortable and sucks most of the time. But this has all the benefits without being sandwiched between a snoring man and a snoring baby in a full sized bed.

Hanging out at Yiayia's house.

Dogs are still her favorite, and she can identify them, ducks (aka all birds) and cats with ease. She also knows cow, but that one is a little more difficult for her to identify, though she knows the noise they make. We're currently working on elephant, monkey, sheep, and horse.

A picture JP took of us for Sierra DeMulder's upcoming video of one of her poems.

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and now for our regularly scheduled programming

So, I've had a hard time writing lately because there's so much that I don't feel 100% comfortable sharing on this blog. Not because of my readers, but because of family or acquaintances from my past who may be judgmental or gossipy. I worry a lot about what would happen if someone were to find this blog and tell my parents about it.

I mean, I've told them about it. At some point, before I started sharing personal stuff that went against their beliefs, I even gave my dad the link. But, clueless as he can oftentimes be, he lost it, and my secrets have been safe.

That said, I have relatives who are friends with me on Facebook, and my blog used to feed directly onto my Facebook. My greatest fear is that someone will decide that it's their business to gossip to my parents.

This used to happen to me all the time as a kid. Obviously, it made more sense then. But, if you knew me, it didn't. See, telling my parents just drove me to hide things more. They were the worst people to tell. Now, it really doesn't matter what they know or how they'll react because I can leave. I have a safe place. I should own up to everything I don't want to tell them because it would make me stronger. . 

But I'd rather not. I'm a pussy. I don't want judgement, or tears, or talks, or having to get mad at them, or having to try to reason with them, or getting up and exercising my right to leave. It makes things messy.

I am my mother's lifeline. I hate it. But, I can honestly say that she very well might die with out me. Like, if I were to say, "hey, mom, you kind of fucked my life up a lot and I hate how you excuse it by saying that everyone makes mistakes", and then I left, she'd curl up on the couch and probably never move. I hope I'm exaggerating. I might be making this up. But I have seen her fall apart and I have heard her tell me that I will be the death of her, and that I will cause her heart to stop and her mind to break too many times to dismiss her words. 

So, to recap, I am terrified of my parents finding out about my blog and "you like girls?" "you smoke weed?" "you hate us?". . But, that said, it's really hard for me to not say what's on my heart. And there's a lot on my heart.

This blog is sort of my sounding board. I love it when people read it but I would keep writing if no one saw it but me. This is how I straighten my ideas out. This is how the clusterfuck tumbleweed that is my brain starts unraveling. I get stuck when I can't blog about things. 

So, for my own sort of peace of mind, I'm going to offer a disclaimer here: If you don't want to read about my fuckedupness, leave. If you're related to me, you do not want to be reading this. Why would you even be here in the first place? This is the corner of Bad Childhood and WTF Boulevard. If you decide this makes good gossip and I hear about it, then karma. Don't fuck with it. Also, I might just fucking decide to go all Kali witchy on you and if I do, it will not be pretty. 

I've been debating writing this blog for about a year and a half. Forgive me if I stall or repeat myself.

Lately I've been feeling broken. Abnormal. Even unfixable. I see the world and how it reacts to things and I feel so far removed. I don't/can't enjoy sex. 

Let me pause a moment and elaborate on how fucking embarrassed this makes me feel. As I mentioned, it makes me feel broken, but to make matters worse it's not a normal type of broken. When I was depressed or suicidal or had an eating disorder I guess I subconsciously took some sort of solace in the fact that this was normal. . At least for people my age. It wasn't that wierd. But this is. 

I sat on the exam table at my gynecologist and tried and tried to figure out some way to mention it offhandedly or even grow the balls to mention it straight up, but instead I just made small talk and told her that next time she should take me out to dinner first.

I pride myself in being an open book to pretty much anyone but my parents, people who tell my parents things, and my relatives. Anything. Seriously. Rape? Cutting? The shame I felt while binging? I find that the less secrets I have the less complicated life is. I also find that it opens people up to me and allows them to feel more comfortable asking for help or relating their own horror, or not horror, stories.

But this is haaaaaard. This is the first time I've really had to force myself to share. 

I'm not going to get into the details, because that's fucking weird, but it's forced JP and I to take a step back. Before we even started talking about marriage, we knew that we had backed ourselves up into a corner, and the only steps were to take the exit door or fight the Orc with the bulging forehead veins. So, we're at this point where we're fighting for our relationship. We're either going to fix our problems and start fucking like bunnies and get married, or we're going to take a step back in our relationship, at least for a period of time.

This has caused me a lot of anxiety. I realize that there's really no way out of this. I also realize that it isn't either of our faults. But it breaks my heart because my romantic, air balloon dreams of the pre-engagement, engagement and wedding period of my life have turned into this weird, awkward ultimatum. 

Sometimes I think we're being too intense. I've had people tell me that sex isn't everything, and I wholeheartedly agree! But, promising to be with someone for 80 years without an orgasm is daunting. There are greater women than me out there, obviously, because I couldn't do it. I would try, and I would, but after a few years I would get bitter and frustrated and we'd end up leaving each other anyways. 

We're young. And though we're each others best friends, partners, confidantes, and are always there for each other, there has to be more than that. At least for me. . .

I've struggled a lot about why I don't enjoy sex. I started going back to counseling, and ultimately have been dragging JP with me every week. There has been some talk of going from a regular ole grad-student-in-psych-interning-at-the-local-health-department to a full fledged sex therapist. 

There have been theories tossed around, from plain jane trust issues to remnants of sexual abuse to the weird way my parents raised me and how they completely refused to tell me that humans are sexual beings. Who knows what caused it? All I know it sucks really, really huge balls.

Now, the fact that this makes me feel abnormal and broken does not mean I'm depressed. I mean, yes, I am depressed about this certain topic, but for the first time in my life I am dealing with a major problem and not letting it control my entire view and way of life. 

I am fine. I enjoy life. I'm happy. I laugh, and play with Willow, and absolutely annihilate JP at Mario Kart on the '64. There are nights when I feel really, really sad and really, really broken. But overall, it's just a bump in the road. I finally feel like I know myself well enough that I am confident that I will beat the living shit out of this problem. I've been through worse. 

So, now that that's over, enjoy this not depressing picture:

You're welcome.

animalistic accomplishments

If I were an animal, I'd like to be a horse. They're majestic, fast, and just fucking beautiful. . .

But honestly, if I were an animal, I'd probably be a dog. Like a shih tzu. They're kind of dumpy, kind of adorable and their hair is all DF:OIEIEF.

That was an easy one. Let's jump to the next question:

What are my 5 biggest accomplishments?

1. Breastfeeding for over a year. I would say having Willow, but it was kind of inevitable. I didn't do anything. Some moms will argue that they did work and achieve etc. during the birthing process, but I feel that when it came down to it, I couldn't stop it and I had to go along for the ride, so it was sort of something I endured. Wait, that makes it sound like having Willow was an awful experience. It wasn't. Parts of it were but all in all it was the best time of my life. Not an accomplishment though.

Breastfeeding, on the other hand, was something I thought of as a good thing, but was sure I wouldn't be able to do, at least not for long. I didn't want to do it. Formula feeding seemed easier, and quite honestly, though all the research and even the formula companies themselves said breast milk was better, somewhere inside me I thought formula was better.

But now, 12 months and counting into this milky mess, I love it. I couldn't imagine waking up in the middle of the night with a crying baby and making a bottle. No, siree. Rolling over sounds much easier (thank you co-sleeping!).

Reading all the statistics and research on formula I can't imagine how I thought it was better than the thing it was trying to copy. I am so glad I tried breastfeeding. . And kept to it even though I wanted to quit.

2. Getting published. Enough said.

3. Recovery. There are times I wonder how I made it, and there are times I forget it's been years and am instantly back at my hardest times. . But each day is easier. And though I wouldn't consider myself cured, I have reasons to keep living now.

4. Making my relationship work. I know we've only been dating for 3 years. I know it doesn't seem long, and it shouldn't, because 3 years isn't long at all, but there have been multiple times when the easiest thing to do would have been to say "fuck it" and walk out. It would have been easy, but not right. I love JP and though we're not married I want to stay by his side. I understand that sometimes relationships don't work out and am not scared to walk away, I just chose not to. Not now. Not until it's irreparable. I am not nothing without him. I am strong individually but I recognize that we are stronger individually when we're together. We aren't really boyfriend and girlfriend, we're more like partners. I love that.

5. Horseback riding. I loved it. It gave me goals and it was tangible. I really, really do miss it.

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one!

Willow Rae

Age: One Year. 

Method of Transportation: Knees and hands.

Favorites: Dog, Batman, Mama, Dada, Yiayia, taking socks off, dancing, waving, kisses, squirming, boobies, stealing peoples food, trying to eat anything she finds off the floor, peekaboo, turning the Xbox on and off, opening cabinet doors by herself, shoving her hands in peoples mouths to see what's inside (free prize inside?), balls, books.

Hates: Getting snot sucked out of her nose (who wouldn't!?), long car rides, being told no, having a wet diaper, being away from either mama or dada.

Articulates: Dog, cat, duck, cow, mama, dada, milk, up, down, ball, stick, go, no, cake, mummum (food), yiayia, whaz dat?, bubble, and more that I can't remember right now. 

This has been the best year of my life. I would rather spend a minute with my smart, beautiful little girl than spend a lifetime with anyone else. She makes us a family.

and then i lost my top

Howdy, loverfaces.

Today's topic is my most embarassing moment, but first, a mini Willow update!

She says "uh oh!" now and it's the cutest thing ever. Cuter than when she says mama. Also, she sings and reads herself stories (she'll flip the pages and say random words she knows or just babble). People tell me this is normal but, fuck you, I have the smartest, cutest baby ever.

Now, on to story time, this time illustrated. Aren't you lucky!

Once upon a time, I was on vacation with Rachel's family who I basically lived with at the time. We were at the Wisconsin Dells and they have this, like, surfing thing where there's waves and they teach you how to stay on the board. . Or try to. Whelp. . . I sucked. And one time it went like:

Sexy dude. Sexy dude trying to teach me to surf. Ok, I can do this.

I can do this!!

. . .

Do not want.

So. . It went like that, except I wasn't wearing a t-shirt that time. I was just wearing my bikini top. And with the strength of the water and tumbling up to the top, it came loose. Aaaaaaaaaand there was boobage for the world to see.

There you have it. My most embarrassing moment, in pictures, taken by Rachel's mom.

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ten months?!?!

My little girl is ten whole months old. Ten of them!!

She's crawling, pulling herself up on things and sometimes cruising along them, hamming it up whenever she knows she's got an audience and otherwise just being adorable.

She loves: her Dada, Batman, my mom, walks,dos boobies, swinging on the swing, clapping, pointing at things and occasionally waving when she feels like it.

She is scared of: her dinosaur, but is slowly warming up to it, random things when she's tired.

She says: Dada (constantly!), Baba (Batman), hi, bye bye, bye bye/hi dada/mama, papa, book and egg.

Before her glory days. (Don't mind me, I was pregnant and it was 100 degrees out so I officially didn't give a flying fuck.)

Guyyyys! It's bright out here. And my head's huge.

One month old!!!!

Baba!

10 months of cuddly happiness all rolled into one chubby package.

I love her so, so, so, so, so much!!! It's not even funny how much I love this girl, guys. Sometimes it scares me.

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no posts?

I'm lame.

And there are only a few things that I don't feel comfortable sharing with you guys.

And those are the things that have been consuming most of my time lately. Those things, and work.

But-- here's an update!

Willow is 8 months old as of yesterday!!!! She's a happy but usually serious baby who's definitely a mama's girl. She waves, likes getting her armpits tickled, loves splashing in the tub, pulling hair (especially hers when she's sleepy), army crawling, playing with things that aren't made for babies, reading magazines, my mom, hairbrushes and not going to sleep. She still has no teeth, but is definitely interested in "human" food. Her mama is now "Maaaaaaaam!" and she has crazy separation anxiety. We're still nursing (go us!!) and she's starting to become very adamant about boobies when she's hungry.

I'm still working, and it's going well. I like getting away for a few days a week. It gives me something to do and something to talk about other than Willow and crazy hippie stuff.

That's about it.

Live long and prosper.

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two years self-injury free!!!

The title says it all! It's been two years, which is crazy for something that used to be almost hourly for me! Go me!

I'm really proud of myself for the progress I've made and for how little I think of self-injury as an alternative to dealing with my emotions nowadays.

There has been a lot that helped with my recovery process, but JP has definitely been the biggest motivator for me. When I met him, I was just starting to get back into it, after a deep depression during my freshman year of college and miscarrying Chatham, but even after all that, it didn't escalate to anywhere near the level it had been at in previous years.

Poetry has also helped. I've written for years, but getting a little better at it (god, let's admit it, those first ones sucked really, really bad!) and even competing in a slam or going to poetry readings and getting more involved in the spoken word community, though not as much as I'd like to, has really helped. It gives me something to look forward to. This all started my freshman year when I heard Bluz on Indiefeed and then he visited IC and gave me his CD's (he's a great guy!) and then continued with Sierra DeMulder, who I was also introduced to by Indiefeed and is an amazing artist and person. JP and I went to one of her poetry classes last winter, before I found out I was pregnant, and we hoped to go back for the whole semester, but it's in St. Paul and I got pregnant and crabby.

Bluz:



Sierra:



The main reason I wouldn't go back to the awful that was my life is Willow. I want a better life for my little girl. She's my everything.

Happy Beltane. I'm going to go light some candles. Blessed be.

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job!

I'm a working girl.

I got a part-time, mostly weekends job at Casey's running the register. It isn't glamorous, and most days I come home exhausted with garbage "juice" all over me, but it's helping us make it to our goals, and for the first time in a long time I feel like I'm contributing and that we're on our way to where we want to be.

In other news, JP has an interview tomorrow for another security job, but here in town, which, even though it's less per hour, would save us $40 a week on gas, plus he'd get an extra 2 hours that he's not driving to spend with us! Hopefully he gets it.

Willow's freaking adorable. Every day I love this little girl more and more. She's the cutest, funniest, smartest little girl. She's the best thing I ever did.

In other happy, funtime news, I'm seriously looking into becoming a doula. I've actually had becoming a doula and a lactation consultant on my bucket list for a while and it just hit me about a week ago that I can actually do those! So, I'm going to be looking into training for those so that I can talk about lactivist/intactivist stuff with someone other than JP (who's heard it way too many times to care anymore!).


That's about it. This tired girl should go to bed.

<3

6 months and a few odd days

My nibblet's half a year old. Seriously. Here she is, in her JSB owl dipe, smiling at something hilarious I said. We went to the zoo on Sunday with some new friends and their son. She wasn't too interested, but she did seem to like the monkeys. Since then, we've been making monkey noises and she thinks it's the funniest thing in the world. :]

She: says mama, babababa, still blows raspberries, fake laugh/coughs, once said "gu day" on accident, and loves things she can't have. Her favorite parts of her toys are the tags, she's tried apples, bananas, carrots, and a bit of watered down apple juice but her favorite thing is still boobie milk. She loves banging her toys on the floor/table/surface of anything, throwing them, chewing on them and waving them around. Her favorite person is still JP, with my mom as a close second. She's given JP kisses, tries relentlessly to eat his tattoo, and likes dancing and talking with my mom. She loves walks, and trying to eat sticks, grass and flowers. She likes cuddles, tickles, Baby Einstein, taking baths, napping in our arms, when we sneeze and trying to steal our food.

This kid. . I love this kid so much. She's the best. Right now she's making a surprised "Ah?!" noise at her toys. . and yelling at them. She's the coolest. I could snuggle her all day. She's my favorite reason to smile, and making her smile and laugh is my mission on earth.

She's the perfect baby and I couldn't imagine life without her. <3

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3 months

My little girl is growing up way too fast, guys. I know its cliche but, damn, this growing up stuff goes really fast.

So what's new in the life of Willow? Well, she smiles all the time, laughs when I kiss her chin, only wakes up once during the night (score!), can grab things pretty well, is rolling over from her belly to her back and loves, loves, loves her feet. . though she has trouble reaching them.

We've officially switched from disposables to cloth, which is hard work since we only have 6 of them. I have to do laundry about twice a day, sometimes three times. We totally had money for them and then the break pads on the car went all wonky on us and life pooped on our faces-- but, we're saving up for them. Again. For, like, the fifth time. But, that aside, they're great! They're soft and chemical-free and they make me feel kind of self-important.

She's in 0-3 month clothes now, all cute and chunky. Her pediatrician says she's just under the 50th percentile in both height and weight, so she's short like me and skinny like. . . neither JP or I.

I'm working on getting a job. It's proving to be sort of tough because I need to write up a business proposal, a newspaper ad, a insert etc., but I just don't have time! It's coming though, and I'm better at it than I thought I would be.

Hm. That's about it. Sorry, nothing too interesting.