Kara did most of the work, but I did the shopping.

I discovered the joy of food blogs the other day -- I was up to my neck in them. I couldn't write down recipes fast enough, most of them I'll probably never try but who knows, maybe in 10, 20 years I'll find the notebook I wrote them in (because I have this terrible habit of never throwing away a good notebook, especially if it is full) and have the time to cook up a storm.

There was one though...I posted it on my facebook to save for a later day. Or, more appropriately, later that day. Chocolatet Chip Cookie Dough Truffles. Oh mylanta.

Who wouldn't be enticed by that?

Kara was, for sure. So I picked up a few odds and ends for baking (or not, actually) and we did it.

Well, Kara did it. I stirred. Lily was being a turd burgler and kept throwing things on the floor so I picked things up a lot. Deceptively sweet smile, huh?

Anyway. So there was no egg in this recipe, which made it much easier to eat. And I'm pretty sure I stuck my fingers in the batter much more often than was prudent. But there certainly were enough...

Especially once we covered them in chocolate...I say we, Kara did it all...

She noted they kind of look like turds....yes, we're old enough to have children. Don't judge lol.

Lots of chocolate was sacrificed for our cause. There was also lots of freezer time, which I think would be ideal if your end goal was not to eat them and it was not 9pm with two infants. There were three half hour stints in the fridge for the dough, and they must live in the freezer until consumption because they melt FAST. However, if you were throwing a small party and you could store them in the fridge and would be guaranteed they'd be eaten quickly I think they would be a great dessert. They are RICH...we could both only eat one and downed glasses of milk with them but mmmmmmmm they're good.

WINNING.

Messy messy messy, but with a cupcake at the end.

First of all, I find this very true and very funny. Thank you Frank at Post Secret for putting this on the FB. Made me giggle.

Anyway, messy is the keyword for my life. My room, which I spent weeks cleaning out and trying to keep neat, is fairly messy. My car, which I'd like to sell, is full of baby gear. My laundry is clean but unfolded in a basket. I got teary today when an afternoon talk show gave a dad of an autistic child a trip to Disney World. My relationship with Robert is messy and complicated with the added bonus of our new custody struggle (I refuse to call it a battle because I don't want it to be violent) and I'm moving out of state and going to "big girl college" here very soon.

And my baby girl is 6 months old today.

In my family we celebrate 1/2 birthdays. Have for as long as I can remember. Never with gifts, but with a special dinner and having a friend do something fun and special. My mom has kept up with this even now, that I'm an adult and theoretically should no longer be so excited by being celebrated halfway through the year. But it's nice, even as things have scaled down as I've grown. I'm excited to now plan extravaganzas on behalf of my daughter. I want to celebrate her every stinking day! She's amazing and hilarious and growing so fast -- she loves her cereal and today I set the cup down near her so I could grab a bib and she just picked it up like "Don't worry mom, I can finish feeding myself." And then she drank from a cup! A grown up cup! Not even a sippy cup, a coffee mug! She tried to take it out of my hand, the little nut job.

It's insane that we've gone from itty bitty baby to big grown girl! I can't believe it!

She doesn't even look like the same baby!

I can't wait to bake her first birthday cake!! I'm still engaged in the "sugar free, wheat free" endeavor (we're still breastfeeding, as a side note. Yayyyy!!) but these look too stinking yummy to not make, even if I don't give her one...

Chocolate Chip Cheesecake Cupcakes.  Who wouldn't want to get down on those? Mmmmmm....

Well, this is honest. A bit too honest. Can I just lie instead?

This was on PostSecret's website today as the best Disney proposal ever. That girl has NO IDEA what's going on behind her, she's just there with her boyfriend and (I'm assuming) his friends, she probably argued about sitting up front, judging by her face she hasn't been on this ride very often, and look at the effort he put into that. He had to be SNEAKY to get those signs on there without her noticing, to hold them up at the right time, to convince his friends to be a part of this, be sneaky, not give it away. The thought, the effort, the love and attention that has gone into this--I wish there were a picture of her face when they got off the ride, of their walk from the departure gate to the photo stand, how anxious he must have been. He must have known her pretty well, must love the hell out of her to propose to her that way, that intricately.

Why didn't I wait?

Why didn't I do what I knew I was supposed to do?
Why did I think I knew better?

Why did I decide I could get away with doing whatever I wanted?
Why didn't I listen?
Why didn't I leave when I had the chance?
Why do some people get to get away with it and I didn't?

Why don't I pack up and leave now, never look back?
Why do I secretly hope he'll be it?

Why don't I have an answer for any of these questions?

It's not that I regret Lily-Never ever will I say that. Ever. I do not regret that amazingly beautiful little girl. She is the most amazing baby in the world, and I can't believe she is mine.

But.

What if I had waited? Would I have my Lilypie?
What if I were older? Would I be a better mommy?

What if I followed God's plan for my life? Where would I be?
What would I be doing?
Would she still be mine?

What if?

I know there are millions of single moms, and thousands of them are worse off than I am. Still I worry about Lily -- she adores men. In general. Any time she sees one she stares and laughs and they're her favorite. And I worry that it's because she never sees her daddy, and I worry that she'll have daddy issues and that he'll never be there for her like she needs him to be or even that I want him to be there for her at all. And I'm terrified that she'll have a horror story about one of mommy's boyfriends...I can't even finish the thought. I would rather be alone for the rest of my life than that.
I know this is all a matter of relying on God, submitting my life to His will and not trying to take control again. But my heart does worry. And quakes. And if I sit still in the dark after everyone else is in bed and think about it too long I will break. If I try to talk to someone about this, if I try to open up, I'll break. All over everything.And I don't want to break, I'm not ready for it, I don't have time to break.

I've gotta keep it together for this little girl. 

<3

In order to become a zombie you have to eat brains, right? Isn't there a clause?

I'm not too familiar with Zombie lore, but I feel like you have to get bitten/eaten by one, you can't just not sleep for days on end, right? Because kids, I ain't gettin much. The LO is passed out in her car seat from our late-night trip to Wal-Mart but I can't wind down enough. Mostly I'm afraid that if I fall asleep she'll wake up 2 minutes later and I cannot describe to you the level of disoriented and unbalanced that leaves me. It's unreal. So I will share (what I find to be) a funny list from Groupon. Didn't know the site was about humor but I won't question.

The Groupon Guide to: Resting in Peace

The human body doesn't run on steam like it used to. Make sure it gets the rest it needs by following these tips:

• Before pulling over at a rest stop, remove all road signs indicating the existence of said area so that no one else can show up to disturb your 16-hour road nap.
• If necessary, use a sleeping mask and ear plugs to block out light and sound, and a whole apple to block out the thousands of spiders that would love nothing more than to crawl inside your sleeping mouth. [A genuine fear, thank you]
• Get the important REM cycles you need by crying yourself to sleep to the sound of "Everybody Hurts," then scaring yourself awake to "It's the End of the World as We Know It."
• Napping in a hammock is a great choice for those living in a temperate climate or a cartoon. Do not sleep in a hammock around dogs, as they will undoubtedly mistake you for a hanging sausage and then wait patiently for you to give them permission to eat you.
• As soon as you get a chance, find out what your sleep number is. This is very important, as it is also the number of months you have left to live.[I don't know why this makes me laugh out loud every time I re-read it, but it does. Maybe it's the lack of sleep.]

Random note: my latest non-essential worry is that by the time I am able to return to college I will have forgotten how to write a quality English paper and the mechanics of MLA formatting will be totally lost to me. When I transfer to OU (speak it to make it true!) I will be an upperclassman, there will be no tolerance for introduction to writing classes. When this panic surges (because I don't have enough things to legitimately concern myself with. This is sarcasm.) I rush to the Internet and re-read the OWL at Purdue's Guide to MLA formatting and refresh my knowledge.

That's right, I'm an adult.

The Owls and the Jackals Got It...

This blog is about me getting my ducks in a row, growing into the woman I know I can be and tracking my journey as it comes. Or as it doesn't come and I whine impatiently for it (because I am well aware those days are coming). I'm trying to do new things, go new places, become a new woman so I can be the best mommy in my abilities. One thing I've done to set up a structure for facilitating this is joining Bible Study Fellowship (here's the link to BSF, it's actually very refreshing). It's a no-nonsense, no hostility, no denomination Bible study. No delving into the depths of my heart, etc etc etc.

But on my first week (this week) as I'm doing my Bible study, what verse should I be studying but this?

Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past
See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?

I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.

The wild animals honor me, the jackals and the owls

because I provide water in the desert

and streams in the wasteland,

to give drink to my people, my chosen,

the people I formed for myself

that they may proclaim my praise.

(Isaiah 43:18-21)

What's a girl to do but perceive?

When you're pregnant you're just sure you'll have time.

So when I was pregnant I had my heart SET on doing a scrapbook for Lily's baby book. I mean set. I looked at baby books in every bookstore I could and I hated them all. The questions were dumb, the designs were garish, they didn't cover the topics I thought were important. I wanted to do it. I was adament, no matter what anyone tried to tell me I knew that I was going to make my daughter the best damn baby/scrapbook of all time. My mom bought me a starter kit and I made about ten very adorable pages. About before the baby. And right after the baby was born. After about the second week or so of her life the scrapbook sort of pans out. Or, to be more accurate, cuts off abruptly.

Since she was born she's done a number of things: eat cereal, laugh, roll over, sing, none of which have made it into the scrapbook. I have a word document with all of that recorded but I am so far behind on the scrapbook/baby book front it's ridiculous. And considering all the things I need to do that take priority over scrapbooking it ain't gonna happen. 

Today I bought a baby book. This baby book, to be exact.

Isn't it just precious? Now I just have to fill it in...

No daughter of mine will be defined in 5 letters.

I wish this video were bigger, but thank you to Renee & Anna for inadvertently showing me this, I cry at the end every time.

When I was a kid my mom told me she'd give me something to cry about.

It's been years since I came home from work (chili's) every night on the verge of tears, sore, my butt sorely kicked and my feet aching. Probably 2 solid years. In the grand scheme of life, not that long. In the narrow view of my life, ages ago. I had totally forgotten what that girl was like, two years ago. What work was like, what life was like.

I had 14 tables last night, had 534.34 in sales and walked with about $80. Not the worst night, not the best. There was a time when the thought of 14 tables could make me cry. Anyone remember the old sections before team service? Anyone remember zone 5? I try not to. Two four top tables, one two top booth, one four top booth and a twelve top booth. Those were the nights I would come home to an empty dark house because I was there 1/2 the night cleaning. Everything near me smelled like Chili's, stale burgers and sweat. I'd peel off the black tee-shirt like a snake sheds it's skin, trying to get away from the dead weight. And I'd shower. Late at night, quiet as a mouse, I'd shower with mint body wash and cry in the shower about being tired. I was 18, and had no idea...

I had forgotten all of that until last night. The serving shift ran smoothly, it went pretty well. But when I came home and my baby was in bed asleep I realized that I'm more tired now than I ever was then. It has sunk into my bones and lingers there as I go about my day, as I have alone time in the car, as I sleep at night. Last night, for the first time in a very long time I took a late night shower. Quiet as a mouse, with baby scented body wash. And I cried in the shower. It felt good. It felt liberating. It wasn't a deep sob, it wasn't a contemplative churning of my soul, cathartic come to Jesus cry. It was an 21 year old girl crying because she's tired.

It felt nice. Only crying because I was tired. There are much greater, more important things to cry over. The situation in Egypt, starving babies in Romania, the hurts and pains of people in my life. There are much smaller things to cry about, that my room is a giant mess, that Jess took away my purse, that it's so bleeping cold. I've had a hard time justifying crying about my life, about me, in the last year. I made choices and I'm living with them. I deserve no self-pity, I've earned no right to whine. But for ten minutes in the shower I cried for me.

When I got out of the shower and peeked in on Lily sprawled out in the middle of her bed (which she loves to do in mine) my heart overflowed. I felt like a tiny little tea cup with pink roses sitting on a matching saucer, with someone pouring thick, tangible cream over the top, spilling out the sides, running all over the doilies on the table, forever staining the hardwood with this rich, enduring love. The little cracks that were starting to turn into serious stress fractures were filled in, making me strong enough to make it through another day.

That little girl is the most amazing thing I've ever done in my life and the only thing more awesome and incredible than her is the God who made her and gave her to me. And that is certainly something worth crying happy tears about.

There's a font called "Crushed" and that's the one I'd like to use.

Tonight is night two of "sleep training". This is round two of "sleep training". I do not care for this. Not one bit. My little girl was asleep in her pack-n-play, in my room, when I got home from work. Victory! I sat down with a plate of food, ready to pump, watch Parenthood and enjoy some dinner. Four bites into my delicious dinner and she's crying and ready to nurse. I get out the exercise ball as per Jess's recommendation, prepared to rock her back to sleep.

An hour later my core aches, my thighs burn, my stomach rumbles and my baby is not asleep. She's drifted off a time or two, she's yawned 6 times (I counted) but she's not asleep.

Everything I've read in the last month or so suggests starting the "sleep training" at 3-4 months, it's easiest this way. For her. Supposedly for me too, but I'm not so sure. I've got the TV on, I'm blogging, anything to distract me from my baby who is crying in our room, demanding my return. Because she is not sad, she is not hungry, she is tired and mad. She wants to be in my bed with me nursing til she falls asleep, with the option to nurse again at any time that she so desires. She's very opinionated. And strong willed. And stubborn. I adore her. She will be a holy terror if I do not somehow steel myself and learn how to be a mommy. If I cave to her every whim now, what will I do when she is 3? 7? 13? Or God forbid, 16? No, no, I must be resolute. Besides, everything I've read assures me that she'll be sleeping on her own, happily, in a week.

So I must lay her down, walk away and let her put herself to sleep. I don't want her to cry, I don't want her to "cry it out" and I don't want her to hate me again tomorrow morning. This morning, after we went through this last night, she wouldn't look at me, LITERALLY looking away every time I would turn her to face me, for an hour. She forgot, but I haven't. I'm crushed that even for that brief amount of time she was mad at me.

Deep breaths, mommy, this is marathon, not a sprint.