blue

Ever since my daughter moved to her new classroom, the giraffes, she's been more and more definitive of boy things vs girl things. Personally, this bother me to no end. It's bad enough she goes coo-coo for Princess (joking - kinda) but to actually think that she shouldn't or couldn't play with something or do something or act a particular way because that would be like a "boy" just isn't acceptable to me.

It's amazing how young peer influence begins. I noticed it when she turned 2 but now that she's in this new older room (all the kids are between 4 1/2 and 5 years old - except her), I really see how her peers' views are affecting hers.

They actually tell her she can't play with certain toys or that her mommy's favorite color can't be blue. She even came home telling about how some of the boys teased another little boy for putting on dress from the costume box and that the teacher laughed and told him that dresses are for girls, not boys. (I spoke to the teacher and the Director about that one.) Six months ago, she never would have paid attention to what other kids thought of her. (And frankly, six months ago, none of her friends would've said things like this. I guess a lot changes between 3 1/2 and 4 1/2.)

My Mama Says Om "Blue" is the rebellion against Blue being for Boys. My favorite color is blue, my daughter loves Spiderman and my son (if I ever have one) will be able to paint his fingernails pink, put on a dress and dance the hula if that's what makes him happy.

becoming a mother is the best thing that could have ever happened to me

This week, the theme on Mama Says Om is Foundation. I took the photo on the left specifically for the theme from 3 weeks ago which was Silly. My daughter's hysterical. I assume almost all 3 year olds are. And it struck me when I was considering a post for Foundation that it is her innate hijinx that keep me going.

Motherhood is hard. It's work. But can you imagine how much more difficult it would be if our little oh-how-they-drive-us-nuts darlings weren't such bundles of laughter. She has the ability to melt my heart with a single smile. When she tells me she lubs me or that I'm beautiful while her chubby warm hand gently pets my cheek, I have to physically choke back the tears.

Then there are the days when she just won't stop talking to me and demanding things of me while she's lying in bed making every effort not to fall asleep and my reflux is acting up and I can't bend over because my back is spasming and Milan is at practice and I'm exhausted from working overtime at a job I dislike very much because I'm trying to compensate for the additional $30 a week daycare costs for the summer and the fact that the company I work for hasn't given raises in 32 months and counting. And I yell or I speak harshly. Then I spend the next 3 and a half minutes calming down and guilting myself into depression until I go in and apologize for my erratic behavior.

"I'm sorry I yelled, baby. Mommy shouldn't yell. (she nods her head.) Does it make you sad and angry when Mommy yells?" (on the night we had this conversation, she actually started crying for Milan, her voice cracking through the tears - "Mi-i-i-i-laa-a-a-a-n" - so pathetic, so heartbreaking.)

"Yeah. I'm sad, mommy, dat's why I cryin."

We hug and kiss and inevitably, she reaches up with her chubby warm hand and gently pets my cheek while saying, "It's okay, though, mommy, cuz we lubs a'chother and we're the family."

My daughter is my silly.
My daughter is my foundation.

self portrait

This is our Ikea computer desk. The reflective surface is a dry-erase board (and looking at Ikea's site, maybe magnetic as well?? awesome) that we have never once used. Maybe I'll write some dirty messages* on there while I still can. May as well have a bit of fun before the chipmunk can read.

*And yes, suggestions are welcome in comments. (or email, whatever blows your hair back.)

did you know

that a pack of starburst has 4.5 grams of saturated fat?!
crazy.

guess I should've stopped after that second pack. Because c'mon, is it really a compliment to say,
"Wow, baby, you're ass is all jiggly, now!!" as you smack my ass with both hands when followed by, "It used to be all tight." even if you do make a lame attempt to cover it by adding, "I like it like this better!"

single parenthood - the part you don't prepare for

I'm poor. Did you know I'm poor? Not just poor, but POOR. I can pay my bills week-to-week, month-to-month, ... mostly, but I only save a few hundred dollars per YEAR and am always late paying daycare.

Meet Henry. You see, when you're poor, he's all you can afford. When I first got Henry in November of 2003, he was replacing a 1991 Jetta and was a blessing. But I immediately started having problems and his $3300 price tag increased by $1000 to work out the kinks.

Since then, maintenance been pretty uneventful in our lives. The usual stuff, of course, oil changes, tires, tune-ups, etc... but last month, Henry's axel's started going. In the last 3 weeks, I have spent $1200 fixing him!! $1200 DOLLARS!! U.S. DOLLARS!! 1200 of them!

That's a lot, people. That's the equivalent of 12 weeks of state-aided daycare payments. That's 15 weeks of groceries, just under 2 months of rent, 7.5 mild winter months of oil... We won't even go into what portion of my salary that is, but let's just say that I barely earned in 3 weeks what it took to cover those 3 weeks worth of work.

The most depressing part of all of this, is that I had to use my tax refund to pay for it. (Obviously, because my income has to go to the paying (or not being able to pay) of bills.) I was saving that for a vacation. I guess that's not going to happen.

Milan is furious at me for having bad credit because he wants me to lease a new car. But, HELLO??, I don't have $200/mo. for that either!

Sigh...

I guess I'm just really upset that every moment of my life seems to re-affirm what a bad decision it was to become a single parent. I knew at the time that I was in over my head and I knew at the time that it would be hard... but I guess I just didn't clue into the fact that it was also going to completely suck.

babyisms

This morning in the car on the way to daycare,

Micah: "Mommy, yesterday when Matthew pushed me down on the playground and I fell on the grass, I started singing."

Me: "SINGing??"

Micah: "yup"

Me: "Why did you sing, baby?"

Micah: "Because I lub him so much."

lullaby

my daughter loves, loves, loves to sing. right now her 2 favorite songs are "listen to your heart" (the remake) and "tree tops" by eisley. when we're the car she requests both (which i have on cd) and we play them over and over. she usually doesn't keep up and is singing the lyrics just after the actual song, but boy does she belt them! she throws her head back and squints her eyes and everything! that girl is feeling what it's like to "grow wings and fly everywhere"!

so, last night, i'm watching american idol and she's suppose to be in bed but hasn't gotten on her "jamas" yet so she's watching it with me. she stands up on the couch and starts belting out these notes trying to keep up! it was hysterical!!

ps - i have 250 photos that need to be uploaded - hopefully, there's one of the little dance she does as well. if so, i'll post it.