There is a strange phenomenon that happens when you become parents. It’s the poop phenomenon. And by that I mean that the topic of poop becomes an easily and often discussed topic. So much so that you find you have to censor yourself around your friends. You quickly start down the poopy path before you realize “hey, these people aren’t parents and we’re having dinner so save your diaper discussion for later, ass”.

One of the odd things you have to do when your child is a newborn is track all diaper activities to ensure that they are getting the proper nutrition. It’s very strange, but you literally keep a journal of all activities and feedings – I know it sounds silly, but when you’re sleeping 5ish hours per 24 hour period for a week, you tend to forget when you changed your clothes last, much less what the kiddo did. Soon after, the journal becomes part of your brain, you just naturally track what’s going on. Which leads to conversations about when the kid pooped, if it was a “good” poop (I’ll spare you the details on that), how many times she pooped and where you put the poop. The conversations further devolve into bargaining to pick up the dog poop and also to take care of your own poop without an audience. This includes both dogs and child. Doing anything behind a closed door becomes a huge luxury, especially when your kiddo is big enough to open said door (get knobs people, the lever door handles only help them).

The bargaining can be both a positive and a negative. “But I changed TWO poopy diapers today!!” is a great way to get your spouse to change a diaper or do some other undesired activity. A typical positive negotiation in our house goes something like this:

“I was going to hit the pool and swim laps this morning.”

“Sounds good – but I was hoping to catch a nap, get a full shower AND full hair and makeup this afternoon.”

“Not a problem – you throw in a poopy diaper change and you got your self a deal.”

When can you potty train them?!

It has become very apparent as our little lady learns to speak that she is a sponge for information and is begining to regurgitate that information more readily. Therefore I have embarked on a mission that I’ve not tried since lent 2007 – stopping swearing.

It’s a terrible habit and something I should have gotten rid of a long time ago. But I’ve found over the years that swearing allows just that little bit of stress relief so desperatley needed. However, I feel that Baylie’s teachers are really going to frown on the fact that she drops an F-bomb after realizing she colored outside of the lines.

My quest to stop the bad language became a higher priority after I caught her running away with my cell phone and I’m pretty sure she said “sh*t” when I caught her.

I’ve started to replace some of the more popular words in my vocabulary with funny, non offensive alternatives. For example, we don’t say the f word any more. Instead we say Fred Mertz – as in Lucy’s best friend Ethel’s husband and neighbor from I Love Lucy. So instead of saying “F*ck that hurt!” when brutally pinching the soft underside of my arm while taking down the baby gate, I say “Fred Mertz that hurts!”. The first time Peter heard me say it, he questioned who the hell Fred is, which makes me laugh and thus solving the swearing and also easing they pain of the huge purple bruise on my arm.

In a similar fashion, we also no longer use the S word, but rather I try to say “Shamalamadingdong”. Which, much like saying “Fred Mertz” reminds me of the scene in Animal  House where the guys take their dates to the sketchy bar were Otis Day and The Knights are singing  Shamalama. This visual always makes me laugh and starts a stream of movie quotes:

Bluto: Over? Did you say “over”? Nothing is over until we decide it is! Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Hell no!
Otter: Germans?
Boon: Forget it, he’s rolling.

So, if you have any other replacements for the more colorful words in our language, be sure to let me know!

If you ever need good service somewhere, I’ll let you borrow Baylie. She has this amazing power to turn even the crankiest person into a big old softie. And she’s memorable so it’s not just a one off!

Take for instance the dry cleaners. The cheap cleaners to be precise. I think it’s like $1.55 for any article of clothing and I had them do a big table-cloth once and it was like $7. It’s awesome, but I’m sure the people working there make next to nothing so customer service is not really part of that $1.55. Most of them pretend not to speak english and you’re lucky if they don’t throw your clothes and change at you on the way out. Until there was Baylie. Something about that little bald head and toothy smile that just melts people. Now when we walk in, we have to allow for at least 10 minutes so they can all talk to her and she can tell them about her week. My mom used to always tip the same ladies and they never noticed. She told them that she was Baylie’s “Noni” and now they practically carry her laundry out to her car.

She’s also very handy at the doctor’s office. I broke down and went to the doctor last week for a sinus infection – but by the time I called I could either have an appointment in 20 minutes or in 2 days so I had to take the one in 20 minutes. Bay had just woken up for her nap and had eaten, but it’s always a little scary taking her somewhere when you don’t know how long you’re going to be there. She was an angel – she stood at the chair next to me and methodically took everything out of my purse and put it on the chair next to me, picked the things she liked (usually my wallet, it always makes me nervous) and then put back the things she didn’t like. Once word got around to the back office that there was a cute kiddo in the waiting room, we were called back where we then were paraded around to each of the nurses stations. We were taken to an examination room where a nurse came in immediately and asked me my symptoms in between questions on Bay. Then the doctor, same thing. And finally another nurse with medicine and shots (eesh!). We were in and out in 35 minutes. I’ve been literally dying and not made it out of that doctor’s office in less than 2 hours. Plus, I didn’t have to weigh myself and didn’t have to fill out the paperwork on health history because there wasn’t enough time. My step dad was in the same office a week later and when everyone found out he was Baylie’s “Pop”  they were all over him too.

The only poor service experience we’ve had together was 2 weeks ago. And looking back, I could see why a baby’s presence in this particular store may not have been welcome. Peter purchased a new shot-gun for a VERY early birthday present for himself. The stinking thing would not assemble correctly so I had to take it back to the store to have them look at it (why me? excellent question…). So there I am, baby and purse on one arm, 15 lb metal box containing gun parts under the other, walking into an outdoor man’s paradise. I ask someone where to go and they showed me the way – without taking the 4ft long, heavy box from me. Because I’m super mom I was able to manage, but jeeze. I get Mr.”Oh here honey, let me help your pretty little dumb self out with that” who instantly snaps the gun together and looks at me like I’ve asked him for a kidney when I ask him to disassemble it and then let me do it. All the while Bay is standing at my side waving to the random people walking around.  He also acted like I asked him for a ride home when I hinted I would just looove some help carrying the damn thing back to the car. Now, I know that this is awkward. I love nothing more than bringing my daughter to a store with guns, but we are doing this for my loving, hard working hubby damn it, help me out!

So if you need some help in the service department, I highly suggest borrowing your adorable niece, nephew, cute neighbor kid, etc. Dress them cute and watch the service improve for years to come!

Ah, Ms.Baylie, the source of some of my best blogs!

Everyone in this house has a freaking special diet – even the dogs. They are 11 and one is fat and one is skinny. Obviously the fat one eats the skinny one’s food and thus the cycle continues. It’s not just that Bear will eat Travis’ food, Travis won’t eat his own food unless it’s been spiced up a little. Some ground beef (yes yes, I know) a little water and sometimes salt (he has kidney issues people!) are what it takes to get him to eat. Because I make it so tasty, of course Fat Boy wants to get at his brother’s bowl even more so Bear has to sit in his crate until Travis finishes his food. This week while sitting in his crate, Baylie decided to join him by sitting in Travis’ crate. It might be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen – her little smile while banging on the sides of the crate trying to get Bear’s attention, she was just so happy to be one of the dogs!

My sister and I grew up knowing that The Big Red Machine was one of the greatest teams of all time. The 1969 Cincinnati Reds had a starting line up that included the great Pete Rose (my mom still judges a person’s character by whether or not they think Rose belongs in the Baseball Hall of Fame – the answer is YES if you want her to like you) and Dave Concepción. Concepción made the quote “Baseball been very very good to me” famous. So to continue the tradition, I am working on teaching Baylie this all important quote. After reciting it to her, Peter asked her “Who said it Bay?” and I helped her by replying that it was Concepción of course! Then Peter asked what his first name was and Baylie promptly replied “Dada!”. So Dave Concepción will now be known by his new name in our house: Dada Concepción.

Last Friday Bay demonstrated her very funny, yet slightly evil sense of humor. She was cruising around the living room and offering her pacifier to me, the dog and Grandma, a favorite game of hers. She gives it to you and you take a hit, you then you give it back and she takes it smiling and moves on to the next person. As she cruised towards me, she reached out her chubby little hand with the slobbery pacifier to me. Just as I was about to take it, she yanked her hand back, put the pacifier in her mouth and laughing and smiling shook her head “no”. She repeated this three more times, each time squealing with laughter as she pulled her hand back! I’m a little concerned that she has this much of a sense of humor at 10 months…

Baylie says “Psych!”

While Peter and I would like to be able to pay closer attention at mass on Sundays, I’m not sure that’s going to be a reality for the next few years. But I feel that we earn points and fulfill our obligation by just being there, even if we have no idea what is going on.

I’m not sure how she does it, but Baylie can make any toy loud. Little plastic links make a ruckus when they are thrown violently against the pew. Stuffed animals make no noise, but when you are talking to them, people tend to notice. And books should be silent, but when they are banged against the song books or smacked against someone’s head they are a bit noisy.

The thing is Bay isn’t being bad, she’s just 10 months old and this is her normal behavior. She’s not screaming because she’s upset, she’s doing her signature “Hey! I’m talking to you! Look at me!” pterodactyl (yes, that’s actually how it’s spelled) like screech. We try very hard to make sure that she’s being quietly entertained and when she gets screamy one of us takes her to the back where she’s not as easily heard. What really bugs me though is when we get the stare down from the people around us. Now, we get there early to get a seat in the last row so that we can exit easily. I want to tell these people that we were here first, if you don’t like babies don’t sit near me and go to the non-children’s mass.

The worst are the people who let their kids bring loud toys to mass – what are you thinking?! This is not ok – no one is expecting your kid to be perfect, but are you really going to give him something that will make MORE noise than just his mouth?! Again, my child is not perfect either, but I at least make an attempt to keep her quiet. The dirty stares should be saved for these parents!

Baylie’s crowning moment this weekend was when she finished her bottle and then proceeded to let out a burp worthy of a frat boy. She then followed that up by blowing raspberries (you know, when your lips are puckered and you make that funny noise by blowing through them) at Peter and I. He had to take her out because it was making me laugh – she makes the funniest face when she does it!

Can I get an AAAAAAAMMMMMEEEEENNNNN!!

Time for your favorite post: “What’s Baylie Up To?”!

Baylie is anything but boring these days. She’s constantly coming up with new ways to entertain herself, most of which give me a heart attack. Yesterday afternoon I tossed her in the pack-n-play and ran to the bathroom. She suddenly discovered that throwing the toys out of the pack-n-play is an amazing game – and an awesome way to get me to come running. I caught her mid throw – she had a shape sorter behind her head and was ready to launch looking quite pleased with herself. I’m thinking she’s somehow gotten herself out of the thing and has done some horrible damage to her head, only to find it was the ring toss game that had met with the floor instead of her head, thankfully.

It’s going to sound like the kid spends a lot of time in her crib when I tell you this next one, but I swear, she’s in there maybe a total of 40 minutes across the entire day! We started when she was small and now she will sit and play in her crib and listen to Baby Einstein music for about 20 minutes at a time. And any mom will tell you, 20 minutes of quiet time exclusive from nap time are golden. Usually Baylie will “read” her picture books (which might be the cutest stinking thing I’ve ever seen) and talk and bang stuff against the railings – but I found her a few weeks ago eating her crib. Not chewing it, EATING IT. There are literally grooves where here little teeth have scraped the paint away and made indentations like a rabbit or a horse or something. What is interesting is this is apparently genetic as I ate my crib –  her crib however is brand new and painted with non-toxic paint where as I probably ingested a few pounds of lead (explains a lot, I know). Thankfully there are other strange kids out there so they make a gummy cover so she can chew away without damaging her teeth or ingesting paint. But the little stinker out smarted me and has moved on to the side railings, not just the front one so it’s back to Buy Buy Baby for more!

Baylie has also figured out how to remove the child locks from the cabinets in her room. They are like a U shape and open on one end where a piece fits on and they go around the knobs thus keeping it closed. Apparently the kid has tickets to the gun show because she can strong arm the things right off. She’s gotten so good at it that it takes her less than 30 seconds to get it off. She then sits with it and chews on the device…so I guess it does baby proof the cabinet because she doesn’t go into it.

Also, her new word is saying Bear the dog’s name. I couldn’t figure it out, but finally it dawned on me because she says it a lot when she’s in her high chair. Why? Because he sits under it waiting for her to drop down some goodies. Thankfully for her, he’ll eat fruit or veggies or whatever. Sad for him is that those are the only things she’s willing to part with – cereal and cheese get double fisted into her little mouth, not one little drop makes it to the floor to her buddy! But if you listen you can hear her softly saying Bear – it comes out a little like “wear” but he gets it and comes running to see what the day’s offering is.

As predicted, she does love the pool. We’ve been three times in the last week and she’s gone from clinging to me to floating in her raft to getting dunked. She is dying to play with the other kids there – usually her favorite cousin Madi is there and willing to splash with her and she was truly missing her yesterday. She floated in her raft looking longingly at the big kids – but that looked changed when she got dunked. I won’t go as far as saying she liked it, but she didn’t cry so I think that’s a plus. She is under for less than a second but the face might be the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. Her eyes are about as big as they will get and her mouth is about as small as it will get and you can tell she’s not really sure what to think! I’m predicting she’ll be jumping off the side into my arms in about a month 🙂

The following is a true story. The names of those  involved have been changed to protect the “innocent”. This is their story…

Around Christmas time, my friend’s son *Paco (just kidding, that’s a terrible fake name) *Paul was wearing a t-shirt that said “I’m on a boat” and nothing more. When I questioned 10 year old Paul about what the hell it meant, he simply replied “Just what it says, I’m on a boat!” I chalked it up to him being a preteen, a boy and an all around nut case (in a good way).

About a month later, Peter was doing some kind of sports related thing on his lap top and I happened to glance over and see an ad on the side of the screen with some young chicky wearing a shirt that said “I’m on a boat”. I realized then that there’s no way a 10 year old and some hot co-ed are wearing the same shirt.

After some digging, Peter found an Andy Samburg video from Saturday Night Live called, what else but I’m On A Boat. I’m going to play the baby card here and say that we weren’t aware of such hilarity because we were preoccupied with our kiddo when this was popular. The video may well be one of the funniest and also most explicit things I have ever seen. The skit is about the fact that you can make a rap song about anything. It features T-Pain (if you don’t know, just go with it) and Andy and they are, well on a boat and rapping about it. I’ve attached the edited version below. Still, be advised if you’re at work and watching!

Then it dawned on me, my friend Anna has no idea that her son’s favorite shirt (which he has in 2 colors, btw) is about THIS. I reluctantly wrote her the following:

“Ok, I admit that I’m old, but we finally figured out what *Paul’s “I’m on a boat” shirt meant. Please tell me I’m not the only one in the dark…”

Her response:

“I AM DYING!!!”

Followed by:

“I’m going to hell on a mother f*#king boat!!!”

After recovering from her last email, I was able to talk to Anna and find out that she was totally unaware of what her son had been wearing. More so, he had worn it to his Catholic school free dress day just last week (thankfully, no on there is hip either so all is well). In response, Anna wrote the following letter to Mr. Abercrombie:

Mr. Michael S Jeffries

Abercrombie and Fitch

6301 Fitch Path

New Albany, OH 43054

Dear Mr. Jeffries – or whoever reads Mr. Jeffries’ mail first,

My son loves A&F t-shirts.  It’s a fairly new love, but it is a deep love.  He wears them every minute he’s not in his school uniform and sleeps in them every night.  He loves how soft they are and he likes all the graphics – especially when they are funny graphics.  He’s only 10 and he doesn’t care much about clothes, but he cares enough that his t-shirts are A&F.  So I buy them.

My question to you is, why in God’s name would you make a t-shirt for a 10-year old boy that has a saying on it from one of the most foulest skits/songs on Saturday Night Live – “I’m On a Boat”??????  Don’t get me wrong, I love Saturday Night Live and I personally think it’s hysterical.  But I don’t think that a 10 year old – any 10 year old should wear a shirt that’s from a song  – I’m on a Boat Motherf**ker!

I didn’t happen to see the “I’m on a Boat” skit and so when my son was laughing at the t-shirt in the store and saying to me “what don’t you understand about – I’m on a boat” we both thought it was funny and kind of “out there” and so we bought TWO – different colors!!

He wore the shirts and he told his friends that he was on a boat and life went on.  A couple days ago, my friend and then my brother sent me the skit.  I was horrified that my son had been in public wearing this t-shirt.  I about cried when I thought about how he wore it to free dress day at his Catholic school.  I am so utterly embarrassed that my friends and family think I would allow my son to wear something like this.

I’ve read a lot about you and I know that you are considered in some circles to be an open minded entrepreneurial genius.  What makes you think that any decent mother would want their child to wear something that is totally intended for adults –  skanky adults at best, but adults?

I’m not saying that I’m going to stop buying your t-shirts, because I’m not.  But, am I really going to have to research your t-shirt sayings on youtube before I buy them?  Do I have to now double-check that I’m buying something age appropriate or not even age appropriate but just “not foul” before I purchase?  Am I going to walk into your store in the future and see shorts with “d*ck in a box” on the rear?  I mean, come on – help me out here – it’s hard enough raising kids!

Best regards,

Anna Fakename

I think the letter speaks for itself. Happy shopping!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k8F3UE9qFsg

I hate to brag, but Peter and I have a great kiddo! She is super funny and a ball of energy, we just can’t wait to see what she says and does every day. I can’t believe it was almost a year ago that we were going to the hospital, coming home, going back, waiting, and then ending up in surgery to get her out – it’s all thankfully a bit fuzzy now! This post is a little tribute to our girl Baylor – otherwise known as Baylie.

Of all the expensive, educational, fun and loud toys that Bay has, her favorite is an old universal remote. We refer to it as her “wee-mote” (yuk yuk yuk, we’re lame, we know). She likes to chew it, bang it on things and chase the dogs around with it. Noni (my mom) has said it’s her favorite because it’s daddy’s favorite – she’s probably not far off. She and Bear the dog also share a love of the caps that come off of aerosol cans like shaving cream and cleaners. They take turns chewing them and then tossing them around and chasing after. I tried to separate them, but have realized that people germs worry me, dog germs not so much. So away they go!

Which brings me to a small concern I have – I think Baylie hangs out with our dogs, Bear and Travis too much. We don’t have a lot of friends who have babies around her age so she doesn’t get out with other babies often. Therefore she has befriended Bear and Trav. As most people do with their friends, she has picked up some of their habits. For example, she will put about anything in her mouth and crawl away with it. Her spoon, a toy, socks, sippy cups, whatever. She takes them to a new location or to usually Travis to show him her booty. Being the loving, protective old man that he is, he patiently sits and watches her as she shows him what she’s found. Usually she is screaming at the top of her lungs with excitement! She also likes to eat grass and will make her way daily into the home office to crawl into the dog crates and roll around like she belongs there. Bear will walk in behind me, observe her in his bed, give me a dirty look and then mosey out the door with a look of disgust. Bear is learning how to play with her, but he lives up to his name so he doesn’t get to play too often. However, they always have shaving cream caps.

There’s nothing better than walking into Baylie’s room in the morning. She is usually reclined in her crib, using the soft bumper of her crib as a pillow, sucking on a pacifier, holding another and raking a third one against the crib rails like a prisoner in a movie. Once she sees you, she literally throws the pacifiers, scrambles (while panting and with “fast feet”) to the side of the crib and pulls herself up. She then spits the third pacifier out at you and screams with delight. Despite the sometimes freakishly early hour, that smile and screech makes you happy!

The three pacifier thing started a few weeks ago. We were working with her to get better at going to sleep on her own and it wasn’t going well. She was screaming in her crib when Peter went in to check on her. Maybe two minutes later, she was silent. I was in awe. When I asked Peter what he had done, he mumbled something and then wouldn’t elaborate. He just said he had the magic touch with her. I finally got it out of him a few nights later that he was taking in extra pacifiers – he would give her one to suck and two to hold. It’s now standard criteria for the bed time routine.

Baylie has inherited my blonde hair…and the fact that I didn’t really have any until I was about 2 years old. I’m not sure what it is about being bald that makes people think she’s a boy – but I swear I have had her in a pink dress and have had someone ask me “how old is he?”! It drives me insane. I actually had a woman tell me that it was difficult to tell that she was a girl because of what she was wearing – which was jeans, a puffy sleeve purple polo and a pink pacifier. Not sure how many moms are cross dressing their sons, but apparently they do exist. As I learned the hard way at my previous job (I asked a coworker how old his sons were while looking at a picture at his desk – he informed me it was his WIFE and son in the picture. There’s no recovering from that) you always say: “what a cute baby!” and usually the parent will drop a hint. Better yet, just smile and don’t say anything!