Let Me 'Splain. No, There is Too Much. Let Me Sum Up.

No, no, no. You need not worry. Parenting has not led me to give up technology for the greater good of my family unit, or forced me to hang myself in my bathroom. I've simply been way to busy with real life to justify telling the 7 people that read this about it...especially considering you probably already know. But through some sort of miracle I have managed to muster up enough brain cells and clever one liners to do the damn thing, so I'll give you few dedicated readers a fix (seester).

Tegan is still awesome. Duh. She is still very clever and curious. Also duh. What is new however is her ability to run, say some particularly cute words, climb out of the bathtub on her own (not cool), and newly developed gift for circus performing. Oh, and she enjoys working with finite math. No big deal. These of course are just a few things because for me to sit her and type a list of accomplishments that I could immediately check off would be super fun for me, being that I love a good list, especially one that's fulfilled, but not so much fun for you.

"HAZAAAH!"

She also has grown a bit more hair...and I really mean a "bit" like if Einstein had peach fuzz...yikes. I'm pretty sure she is going to be "our adorable son" until she's 8.

"The Do"

Tegan's love for Sampson was quickly replaced with Panda which was even more quickly replaced by Big Bear. It's like (500) Days of Tegan, and Panda is just a chubbier version of that indie kid. Total bummer. Oh young love.

"The other guy"

While she may not look like a jerky teenager yet, she certainly no longer looks like a baby which has pointed me to the reality that I should no longer look like I've just had a baby. I fear that calling my undeniable "pooch" baby weight when she's 37 may not be greeted with much sympathy, so I'm going to get back in shape. Or at least talk about it a lot for the next few weeks until I again realize having time to shower let alone break a sweat is few and far between. Thus convincing myself that really working would just cause more harm than good in the long run. Totally logical.

"All grownsed up"

So we're all still alive. Miss Tegan is moving right along. And for the most part all is well. Sure we have shitty days (literally), and sometimes I can't remember to put shoes on her, but no matter how bad it may seem sometimes, you gotta stay positive. See the glass half full. I mean come on, we've always got naked  Wednesdays. 

"What?"

There's More To It Than Beans for Breakfast.

"I just want some huevos rancheros!" is what was likely being screamed through my tears this time last year. While this sounds like some terrifying Mother's Day nightmare you heard a women share at work about her in-laws, it wasn't like that. In my defense I had a 3 week old baby and my hormones and sleep cycle and overall brain functions were all over the place. Not to mention, I had put on clothes and a bra and I think even a little make up and it was all gonna go to waste.

All I wanted to do was eat out. Eat something other than reheated somethings that someone brought me. I wanted to go have delicious huevos rancheros and show off my super cute new kid and show the world how awesomely awesome everything was. Nope. Instead we ate bagels and fruit in my living room. It was fine, and as quickly as my sleepless hormonal rage had risen, it silenced itself. It wasn't what I wanted but in the end it was a great day with food (that wasn't huevos rancheros) and my awesome (and very tolerant) family.

Here we are now, a year later, on my second Mother's Day with what feels like a whole different life. While I am slightly better rested and hopefully more sane, challenges are still there. Now they just involve a little girl who wants to walk around rather than eat and open every cabinet rather than be passed around a table. These problems may seem like a way bigger deal than eggs and beans, but there were no tears this year. Instead we had an awesome day eating and playing and doing whatever the hell we wanted and it as awesome. No stiff dresses or buffets or gifts to swap, just a day of being happy to be happy about being a mom. And I was, and I am.

(Best thing I ever did)

And One Day She'll say, "...I'm Just Like My Mother..."

Tegan looks like her dad...or so I am told every time the two of them are in the same room. And usually, without fail, a sad little smile and head tilt is directed at me immediately following. Hey man, I don't mind that she looks like her dad because I married him and I am shallow and would never marry an ugly person. Kidding.

But seriously, like I'm offended that she doesn't look like me. Like every night as I fall asleep I curse the universe for not giving my daughter my perfectly shaped eyes and gorgeous cheek bones. (Perhaps I'm selling myself up a bit.) I actually don't care that she looks nothing like me, and that is because while her appearance maybe that of her father, her personality is all like her mommy.

Yep. She's me...just tinier and less opinionated. She is easily frustrated, and likes cats, and one of her top five favorite things to do is vacuum (or help me do it any way). She's loud and silly but also super serious when she gets into something and loves pineapple and is partial to monochromatic animals (mostly pandas). Yep, me.

There are some qualities that she possesses that I am certain didn't come from me, like her constant flatulence (dad), and her interest in bad 90's smooth R&B. Still haven't figured out were that came from. But for the most part, she's a feisty lady just like her mama.  Now I'd like to think this was all do to my potent genes when it came to that whole creation thing, but I will agree that maybe, just maybe, some it has to do with her being around me all day...maybe. Nah, I'm sticking with the super genes theory.

So she can look like her dad, he's handsome. And it's great that she's got some of his greatest parts. She will take habits and characteristic and traits from both of us and be whatever Tegan's personality is.  But really, no need for the sad little smiles and sympathetic head tilts because she may not look like me, but there is no doubt that right now, she's her mama through and through.

(My little impatient panda lover)

Bye Bye Baby...

So Tegan is walking. Like, really walking. Not just the drunken stumble, the real thing. As a result my time spent indoors at the computer has greatly decreased. Ironically, the potential blog material is infinitely increasing with every step. Like learning how to step off curbs (or the lack there of), and screaming with delight when she is "set loose" in an open area, and her sudden complete disapproval with being held...EVER.

So until I get my sea legs with this whole walking business, my blog writing days are fewer are further between. I suppose this is my warm welcome to having a toddler. "Hi there! Welcome to the mother of a 1 year old club, please leave your last glimmer of free time and those ten pounds of left over baby weight at the door."

The baby weight reference is my desperate attempt at optimism about my increase in chasing my kid down. I see now why they make leashes for children. I have no plans to get one (don't quote me on this) but I can see where sheer desperation may lead to such shocking devices. And I mean, she's only gonna get faster and more ninja like,  and I'm only gonna get older and slower.

While I may be totally terrified by this walking thing, Tegan doesn't have a fear in the world, and she's the one who should! It's her bones and skin on the line! I suppose she hasn't learned fear yet. Perhaps walking might lead the start of this tough lesson. For now, she just goes in feet first (pun intended) with all she's got and never look back...literally, all I ever see is her ass.

(on the move)

A Little Girls Decent Into (Delicious) Madness or More Simply Put, Cake Drunk.

There are certain times when a photograph truly says  more than words. I believe this to be one of those times. Enjoy.

A seemingly sweet girl previously untanted by confectionary delights

 hmmm...

Desperately attempting to practice restraint

 Perhaps just one more taste

Something along the lines of a Homer Simpson grone

I don't want you to see me like this, Mother.

Look at all the pretty colors

or

The snozberries taste like snozberries

The insaciable sweet tooth takes hold

!!!

HAZZAH!

...What's just happened?

31,556,926...and Counting

Tomorrow Tegan will be one. We made it a year. A whole year. 365 days. 8765.8 hours. 31,556,926 seconds, and this is truly something to celebrate. Not only is it Tegan's first Birthday, but there is also an undeniable sense of accomplishment for myself and Josh. Not only is she still in one piece, but stitch free and only a few memorable injuries. For a kid that would rather demonstrate her yoga moves on a chair than sit on it, this feels like a huge success.

Raising children is hard, and parents who says its not are either lying or probably not doing all they should be. It truly is the absolute, without a doubt, hardest thing I have ever done. Makes managing a classroom look like a vacation. It's exhausting mentally, physically, financially and socially. So then why do it?

A friend of mine recently made a joke about not getting the pay off of having a child. Diapers, crying, lack of sleep, money, being stuck at home, and maybe I will agree with him a bit when Tegan is 14 and only communicates with me via door slamming, but right now I can't see a downside. She's fucking hilarious for one, and she's smart, and Innocent, and trusting and a reminder of what we were all like before we got our hearts broken or watched too much news or were under appreciated or hurt or felt fear. Tegan helps me remember that these things don't have to be what life's all about. And if that doesn't sell you on the deal, have a child that loves you more than anything else in the world just give you a hug.

So to me there is no question that while the last year has been crazy and sometime (okay, a lot of the time) stressful, seeing her grow up into a sassy little lady is way cooler than going out with the cool kids. To each their own. And this is mine.

(Just being cute)

A letter to my bigger than "little" girl.

Tegan,

     I hope you've made it this far reading all these blogs. I realize at this point there is a very good chance you have completely disowned me as your mother for comparing you to the likes of mental cases, animals and transients. But assuming I raised you well, you've probably got a good bit of humor and sarcasm in your blood, Oh, and I promise to let you decide what photographs are shared with your boyfriend, although I doubt I can say the same for your dad. 

     Tomorrow is your first birthday, and I must say that I am just as excited about your birthday as I am for having kept you in one piece for 365 days. When you have a child you will understand why that feels like such an accomplishment. Especially if your children are as rowdy and full of energy and curiosity as you are. 

     In the first year of your life you put in a lot of work! You will meet 1 walking, and talking (kind of) and having a very strong will and little to no hair on your head. It's true and we love you any way. You are fun, and smart, and completely fearless. Anywhere we take you people comment on how beautiful you are and how aware of the world you seem to be. You are absolutely amazing. 

Thank you for reminding me everyday that there is still goodness in the world. Stay sweet. Stay happy. And always stay true to what you believe regardless of what others may think (unless the other person is your mother. Kidding.) 

Happy Birthday baby girl!

I love you to the moon. 

A&E Series In The Making or Baby Genius?

Tegan has always exhibited some rather interesting behaviors when playing. I'm sure all kids do. Actually, I'm pretty sure most things that kids do are peculiar and certainly hilarious to say the least.  One of the first things I noticed she would always do with her toys was what I referred to as her "leave no man behind" mentality.

Whenever she would be playing and want to go from one part of the house to another, she felt like everything needed to come with her. Not just a favorite, but anything she was around. So she'd sit there and crawl half as inch grab a few toys, move them, crawl another few inches, realize she dropped Panda, 2 crawls back, turn around, grab him, drop the shoelace, go back again, decide she needs the block to come too, back 3 steps again, now grab your partner, spin to the left and dosey doe...you get the point.

These days she's all about being outside. Pushing her little cart around. With a balloon tied to it. Filled with "stuff." Does this sound strangely familiar?  You may recognize this character from such places as a bus stop on Apache Blvd, or a park bench in Downtown Phoenix. She looks like a crazy bag lady! Roaming around the yard collecting leaves and rocks and  bird heads (kidding) to put in her cart. While the resemblance to a transient can be unsettling at times, mostly I'm impressed with how systematic her "collecting" is. Like a little miniature archaeologist (or crazy person). The verdict is still out.

So she goes to an area, has a seat on the ground next to her cart and begins. She picks it up or off or whatever and then looks at it for a while. If it passes first inspection than it goes to level two inspection in which it is placed in the mouth. If it tastes...."something" enough, then it's a keeper and goes to the cart, where she then puts it in and takes it out 37 (okay, maybe 36) times before deciding it's in the right place. On to the next spot. A well oiled machine, this process.

Maybe these things are all normal. Maybe your kid does it too. I have no idea. I've never done this before. So until I start finding boxes under her bed that contain cat hair she's collected and rolled into perfect little balls, I'm not gonna worry too much.

(My Little Transient)

(Inspection Process)