Wednesday, October 11, 2006

This Steak Tastes Like A Shoe

Our daughter, a.k.a. the heckler, will be six months old next week. Her milestones met and surpassed include screeching for sport, full time nap protesting, mastery of the raking reflex proven by tiny red scratches on my breasts obtained during her feedings, long rolling trains of ma... ma... ma... ma...and da... da... da... da... coming from her mouth and my two favorites... spitting and growling. She is also rolling from back to front and front to back, sitting up with little assistance, and pooping little solid people turds instead of something that looks like it dripped out of a rusty pipe. I prefer the rusty pipe poops myself, though I think I prefer Dan get the people turds.

It's hard to watch our baby grow. This week we got rid of her bassinet. Not that she ever uses it anyway, she has a full time job sleeping between Dan and I, ensuring her place as the only child. But on one of the few occasions I went to put her down in her bassinet, her grape ape arm span caused her hands to hit on both sides and she woke up.

At first I was excited, I knew the consignment store I take all of her things to needed bassinets and that we would get to trade for something cool, but by the time Dan was gathering the parts to take it down I cried. Our baby. Our teeny tiny baby that I was once afraid to squish if she slept in my bed has now outgrown a bed all her own.

On another note, about 3 weeks ago I stopped eating meat, and have phased dairy out of my diet almost completely. I plan to live on an entirely vegan diet, but for now, I am too cheap to waste any food. As it stands, I have about 1/4 c. of plain yogurt I've been using for cooking and 12 eggs I probably won't use, because when you convert to veganism eggs are immediately one of the easiest animal products to give up on principle.

If you've ever considered veganism and are looking for a successful way to stay trim while maintaining your self loathing, this is the book that got me started, Skinny Bitch.

Of course becoming a vegan and taking Dan and Cohen with me means several things. Mostly, Dan is probably not coming with me. Though he did turn down chicken in his dinner tonight (chicken my mother smuggled into my fridge for his survival!), and he will try whatever I make, I cannot control his cheeseburger intake no matter how hard I try. What he does at the Sonic drive in is not my business. Cohen, on the other hand, is my full time business. Being the spaz I am, I read the book, decided that be a vegan was the only way to go and instantly told Dan that I didn't want anyone giving our daughter animal products ever.

This resulted in a heated quarrel that I went on to obsess over for three days. Finally we agreed to not feed her the two jars of ground meat baby food that his mother bought her. I convinced him of this by reading aloud how sometimes bad meat is ground in with good meat to make baby food.

So, on Saturday we take the bassinet to the consignment store and begin looking for a few winter outfits for our trip to NY, considering Halloween costumes, and trying shoes on Cohen, because ever since Ila and Ashlee bought her her first pair, I am obsessed with her having more shoes.

I have Cohen on the floor, laying on her back while I try shoes on her and Dan is walking back and forth with hats, bibs, and tights to show us. I put back the size two shoes and as I am pulling down the bin with the size threes I catch Cohen, head turned to one side, licking the bottom of my tennis shoe! Ack!

I am a terrible mother. I pick her up and squeeze her to my body, as I often do when she has come to possible harm due to my negligence. I screamed to myself, "Maybe if you spent less time arguing about meals she's not even old enough to eat and spent more time engaging her, she would not now be developing the rare shoe licking intestinal worm that will inevitably devour her from the inside out before your mother in law even has the chance to offer her a piece of turkey at Thanksgiving!"

With dramatics like that it's surprising I take her anywhere. Later that weekend Cohen ate through the paper on packaging for her new pacifiers, swallowed a piece of fuzz while trying on costumes, and pulled a big tangle of my hair and lint out of the living room rug with her mouth. I got over it. The doc says her poops are different because of the change in my diet, I think it's because all of the hair and lint she eats is backing her up like a clogged drain.



A Note to Cohen: Waking up this morning I felt like no job other than being your mother has been such a joy to get up for everyday. You crush me with your smile, your soft skin, your mean little growls and the way you chew on my face with your tough little gums. I know you are trying your best to get this tooth out, and when I dose you on Tylenol every night, know that I do this for you as much as for your father and I. Because let me tell you kid, giving you Tylenol before bed is like feeding the dog pot brownies. You are hilarious. Last night you sat with your father and ogled the TV while Pee Wee's Playhouse was on. Then, with a reeling laugh you threw your body to one side and began franticly slapping your father. You caught me laughing and began laughing hysterically at my laughter. We love you more than any mountain will ever bear. You are the best thing that ever happened to your father and I, and one day you will hear the story of how you came to us at a time when you were needed more than we could ever relay to you in words alone. One day.

4 comments:

Lori said...

Beautiful note to Cohen!

These are good - cook zuchini (my spelling sucks - but you'll get it) with onions, and add mushrooms... make seperately some safron rice... when both are done, mix together, and put in warm tortias... yummy and meat free. Dan can put cheese and sour cream on his if he wants.

Rachel said...

Your child is normal!! I still catch Abby at almost 4 trying to lick my feet. Ewwww! She likes to play that she is a cat and will say "but cats lick themselves" Yeah, but you are *not* a cat, kid! Your comments about the Tylenol for teething is so funny . . . and I can remember those days so well. Abby never slept in her own bed, and to this day would much rather have one of us (if not both) with her all night. It's a wonder we ever got pregnant the second time.

angela---godsimage74 said...

you are a great momma and that's all i have to say....

Merry said...

I can not imagine a life in which one has never even tasted ice cream.