I left work a little early last night and got home around 7pm. As I walked in the door, I noticed that the lights were low, and the TV was off. I assumed Aaron had just put Cordy to bed. Aaron looked up at me from the couch, where he was playing City of Heroes on the computer. “Hi dear! You’re home early.”

“Yeah, well, I finished all my work early. How are you?”

“Doing fine. We’re having a little bit of quiet play: I’m playing on the computer, and she’s playing quietly on the floor.”

At this point I realize I haven’t seen anything else moving in our living room. I thought she was already in bed. I scan the room for a moment, panicked that perhaps the gate was down and she had climbed the stairs, and then notice this:

“Um, Aaron, she’s asleep.”

“What? No, she’s just playing with the basket on the floor, see?”

Examining her more closely: “No, dear, she’s out. Out cold.” I stroked her cheek, which normally wakes our light sleeper, but she gave no response other than sighing quietly. Oh, those baby sighs, how I love hearing them!

“But…no! She was just playing with the basket! I saw her playing with the basket!”

I don’t know when he last looked up from his game to check on her, but it hadn’t been recently. Or if he did glance at her, it wasn’t long enough to notice that she wasn’t moving, and that she and the basket had not changed positions since the last time.

As I tried to get her ready for bed, she didn’t even wake when I undressed her. She was sleeping deeply, and had probably been sleeping deeply for at least 10 minutes before I got home. The flash of my camera didn’t even disturb her.

As I was perusing the Columbus Craigslist, looking for good deals on used toys and gear, I came across this ad. Now, I love cutesy little gifts for new moms, but this was just disturbing to me.

It’s soap, hand-carved in the shape of a baby. It’s creepy. Besides the fact that each of these soaps looks like one of those weird 3-D ultrasound images, there’s the question of what do you do with it?

You might choose to save it as a keepsake. But then you’ve got a piece of soap sitting on the shelf next to your baby’s picture and other knick-knacks. And a piece of soap on the mantle just seems out of place.

On the other hand, you could use the soap. I don’t know about you, but I’d feel oddly guilty about washing myself with a baby’s backside, causing it to deform as the water wears parts of it away unevenly. Then it would be this horrible, disfigured baby, and I’d have to throw it away or risk having nightmares about children with no arms or no noses.

So if you’re considering something “unique” for that new mom in your life, please stay away from this unless you really want to send that poor mom into years of therapy and an aversion to cleanliness.

After years of trying to lose weight, I learn that I’ve been doing it all wrong! According to this article, researchers are finding that people who drink moderately (that’s only 1-2 drinks a day for you boozers out there) have a lower risk of obesity than those who drink heavily or don’t drink at all. I’ve been doing it all wrong – I should be drinking more, not less!

It all makes sense to me. Think of the French. Lovely people, and my God they’re thin! What do they do everyday? They drink a glass of wine with their meals! If a glass of wine can take on a French pastry and win, that’s enough proof for me. Also, the Italians are another perfect example: a little alcohol keeps the pasta pounds at bay.

Of course, the study researchers say that the findings don’t prove that overweight people should take up drinking to lose weight. I say that’s just what the government is making them say to keep people from being regular drinkers. It also covers their asses, so people don’t drink and do something stupid and sue them. Besides, I’ve given diets with far less plausible evidence of success a try (“Eat all the high-fat food you want and lose weight!”), why not this one? And it’s not like they’re telling people to go out and get smashed; one to two drinks a day (consider a drink is 4oz. or 1 shot) is not a lot.

So, if you’ll excuse me, mommy needs a glass of wine right now.

100_0404
Originally uploaded by A Mommy Story.

For her first birthday, we bought Cordelia this adorable little chair that was just her size. Our hopes were that she would sit in it instead of screaming for us to pick her up and put her on the couch. Being on the couch inevitably led to her falling off the couch and hurting herself. She needed furniture that was less dangerous.

And as toddlers are well-known for, she showed us that she wasn’t about to do what we want her to do. She preferred to stand up in the chair, sit on the arms, and generally use it every way possible except the way that involves her butt on the seat. As for it being less dangerous? Oh no, she found ways to make it dangerous! Leaning back while standing on the seat to tip it over, sitting on the arm and falling off backwards – Cordy has proven that there is no such thing as a safe piece of furniture.

Over the weekend, though, we saw her sitting in her cushy chair. As in, butt-on-the-seat. I was shocked. She looked at me, grinning her “You didn’t expect that, did you?” grin, then said “Sthit.” She then stood up and sat back down, repeating “Sthit.”

It appears she has learned the word sit (or I suppose it could be shit, as Aaron is known to say that a lot around her), as well as the action of sitting down. We applauded her and praised her, which led to more Sthit-ing and sitting.

The next new trick was the old “where’s your nose?” game. For months we’ve been pointing to our own noses and hers and repeating, “Mommy’s nose. Cordy’s nose. Daddy’s nose. Kitty’s nose.” She usually just looked at us like we were some weirdos with a nose fetish. However, this weekend we asked her “Where’s your nose?” and she pointed to it! Yay! The little girl has given into the urges of society and mimicked it! Wait, that’s not supposed to be a good thing…

Just to add to her language explosion, today she was reading a book while I changed her diaper (getting her started on bathroom reading early, I guess), and she lifted the book up to look at me and said, “Bouuuuk.” She now knows the word book, although she pronounces it in a haughty, over-enunciated, strange accent: “Booouuuuk.”

It seems she’s been holding out on us, vocabulary-wise.

So today Aaron was ready to hand in his parenting badge and quit. On a long drive we had a conversation of short, annoyed sentences with long silences inbetween each. During this conversation, I learned that Aaron felt like he will never be able to do anything simply again because we have a child. Everything takes more work, and half the time we don’t get to do what we want because we have a baby. While I realize it had been a tough weekend for him (he got some daddy-daughter time both mornings while I was out working or volunteering), I admit I was surprised by what he said.

He told me that all we did this weekend was made incredibly difficult because Cordy had to be considered. We went to lunch with his father on Saturday in a market that can only be described as a zoo, and had to restrain a cranky toddler while begging her to eat something more than goldfish crackers and the napkin. He wanted to drive two hours to visit friends and game with them (staying the night), but couldn’t because I needed him to watch Cordy this morning while I was volunteering. And we agonized over going to a holiday party today because we weren’t sure how Cordelia would handle it (and, for the record, she threw her best tantrum yet for the entire party, then spit up all over me, prompting an early exit).

OK, maybe I can see his point a little. But part of me was also angry at him. “Kids are work! Kids require you to be selfless!” I said to myself over and over, but I didn’t voice these comments for fear of setting off a big fight (I hate confrontation, especially over dumb crap like this). Part of me wanted to say, “Well, tough, you can’t give her back now, so shut up and deal with it.” I didn’t understand his frustration, because it doesn’t affect me that strongly.

Why do I seem to handle the crimp put on our social life more than him? Can it be something deep down in the mommy genetic code that makes a woman more capable of being less selfish and doing whatever needs to be done for her child? I’m not saying I don’t long for the way it was from time to time. I miss hanging out with friends, going to the movies or dinner at the last minute, and sleeping in until 10am (oh, how I miss sleeping in until 10am!). But I don’t get angry about it, and certainly not at Cordy. I know it’s all part of the parent deal – a cute, loving, pain-in-the-ass and inconveniencing child. I’ve come to terms with the fact that arranging a date night involves consulting the schedules of all of our friends and family, balancing that against what movies are showing and what time Cordy will go to bed, charting the phase of the moon and synchronizing watches. It’s more work, but we still get to go out every now and then.

Luckily, Aaron’s trip to the “pity me” party didn’t last all that long, and on the way home from the holiday party we both peeked into the back seat and our hearts melted looking at our little angel, sleeping peacefully snoring loudly in the backseat. I think it was just a moment of weakness for him – he is a good daddy and I don’t think he would give up his little girl for anything.