The Wordmistress

Bootylicious

Is it wrong to be obsessed with your daughter's butt? To dare take bites out of said derriere? I'm sorry to admit it, but J Lo ain't got nothing on my baby love. She simply has the cutest little bum. Often, in the deep of the night, she can be found sleeping with it high in the air, feet tucked together crossed at the ankles.

Can you stand it?

I can't.

The Oracle

Sometimes little kids can act as barometers, yardsticks as to whether a person is good or evil. Mia is a great judge of character, she does not suffer fools lightly. Take Santa for instance. I was all geared up about taking her to visit Old St. Nick and she just wasn't having it. This is a chick who gives high fives to the homeless and pinches waitress's butts. She is a downtown girl who loves to party and I really thought she'd dig the celebratory vibe, but she was very skeptical. My mom and I took her to the Loop and treated her to a grown-up lunch at Marshall Field's Walnut Room where Mom spent her days as an ingenue modeling. We found Santa in a village-y house and Mia tentatively walked in, mentally drinking in the entire scene with awed interest.

She didn't cry, but she was not amused. Santa seemed kind enough, he possibly even had an Irish accent. I thought the elf was way cute. Mia gave out smiles to Grandma, smiles to me, smiles to the sales people and the other folks we saw in the street. Even if she hasn't had a nap and is hungry, she'll try to be friendly to the mailman, even the nurse who's giving her a shot! But Santa got no love. Big old jerk with a stupid hat. :(

Mary Poppins Ain't Got Nothing On Me

Mia's birthday party was a smashing success and boy did she rake in the goods. Our friends are very generous souls and gifted us with many lovely toys, gadgets, books and outfits. Mia was like a kid in a toy store. Literally. It was a ton o' fun. I did my best to clean up the apartment then put Baby to bed. She seemed like she had a great time. We are definitely blessed to have such wonderful friends and family.

Soon I will be off to dreamland.

Please. Do not confuse this with Neverland.

One Way or Another

I've been trying to avoid the pitfalls of Barney (yeesh) and other assorted sundry and scary commercial beasts in the raising of Miss Mia. This has included staying away from parent-in-a-box places that charge you and arm and a leg to do what you can probably do for free in your own home. Case in point: Gymboree. Gymboree is the millenium's answer to playgroup, an offshoot of a successful clothes store (or is the clothes store an offshoot of the playgroup?). At any rate, Mia and I have been happily attending good old Chicago Park District playgroup for the past 8 months and really liking it so I thought we didn't need that yuppie shit. But today, I wondered ... well, do we?

They offer free preview classes and so we signed up and attended one today. It was filled with what I feared: parents in khaki, Barneyesque songs and a dancing clown named Gymbo. But Mia was stoked. She partied like it was 2020! So a mother torn. And a mother called. Yes, I'm certainly not shelling out the bucks for this but my mom is just enough into this kind of stuff to go for it. Sure enough she thinks it might be a good idea.

I haven't decided yet, but I've got to start standing firm. Otherwise all my rules will be broken and my house will be overrun with Barbies, toy guns and Raffi.

Monkeying Around

Yesterday we went to the Farmer's Market at the Lincoln Park Zoo and while we were there we visited the monkey house. The white-cheeked gibbons were very friendly. They were true monkeys in the cartoon sense, playing, "aping", scratching under their arms. Mia had a ball. To my dismay, the lemurs were less cooperative.

I Was Told

Mia was a very easy baby. Slept twelve hours, smiled constantly, sweet as can be. When I'd tell other moms how much I was sleeping and/or how much I was enjoying myself, well-wishers would always look at me with a wizened eye and say such comforting remarks as, "just wait till she's two, three, twelve, etc." Oh yeah, I'd think. This angel? Never. Such a sweetheart, no worries for mommy.

Well pass the wrinkle cream. Don't get me wrong, she's still got the best temperament of any baby I know. She literally wakes up every morning in a Disney movie, smiling at her books, her toys, the kitty cats. I can actually hear bluebirds singing. But this walking deal has bummed me out. The kid powers into floors and walls with such velocity that she is bruising her little punim with frightening speed. Let me put it this way: David Gest ain't got nothing on her. I'm contemplating building a box or some sort of other structure to put her in. On the other hand, she's suddenly become kind of clinging and sweet. Which I must admit I sort of LOVE.

I adore being a mom. I just thought the transitions would be, I don't know, more like, transitions. Not so immediate. Glad she's growing up, but she's just a little baby!! I want so badly to protect her, but not overprotect. Jeesh, welcome to the next 20-40 years!!

Fashion Plate

It's strange when an 11-month-old who can't really talk yet starts expressing aesthetic preferences in a real way, particularly ones at odds with her mother. But this happened today when we were coat shopping. You see Mia's winter coat is simply too bulky and binding and so I was determined to find her something new. We went into Old Navy and I tried this coat on her. Now, here's something you need to know about me. (Yeah, that's right. Need to) Much to the dismay of my mother, my tastes tend to stray closer to the unisex. I dislike patterns and flowers and fur and fine feathers as Stanley Kowalski would say. This coat was simply too girly looking. But Miss Mia, on the other hand, adored the fur collar. She stroked it and smiled. She sucked her thumb. She moved about with ease. I tried on some other coats and she started in with what I call the M-cry, her almost mama cry. (Actually, this weekend, she has started saying mama but only when she is peeved). She wanted the girly coat.

And so my daughter in her fine feathered coat, sporting her pleased-as-punch, Queen Elizabeth look today. And me in my sweat jacket. Aesthetic odds. Not unlike my mother and I. But this young? Amazing.

One - Step - Beyond

So Mia is totally walking. Yesterday she just got up and pretty much said enough with this crawling stage. And she is tooling all over the place. It's very strange. I mean she's been taking steps and all for a couple of weeks, but now she is totally committed to the walk. It's completely freaked out the cats who thought that all things considered, they were equals. Now Mia has exhibited a feat on her feet and the cats are, well, depressed. Sorry Irving, sorry Nellie. Told you Mia was different. But I want to be the baby, Peewee! And the little lady proves again that she is one helluva cool chick. Now if only I could keep up.

Do You Know How It Feels?

Do you know how it feels when you wake up in your favorite country, on vacation, at the beginning?

Do you know how it feels when you meet that special someone, and they think your special too?

Do you know how it feels when you've just finished your favorite vice (sex, chocolate, coffee, all three) and someone offers it to you again and again?

Do you know how it feels to watch your child take her first few steps into the world?

Trust me, I've experienced everything on the list and the fourth thing is the best. Hands down.

The Devil Made Me Do It

So it was dress up day at play group. And I forgot. Luckily Kristin watched Mia play while I ran home and got Mia's costume. And so she wore her little devil costume and I must admit, chest a-burstin', she was very cute. Couldn't get a decent photo and pretty much ruined any fun she could have by calling her name constantly trying to get her to look at the camera, but, hey, that's what being a mother is all about isn't it?

And speaking of my stellar mothering skills, I've been so consumed with babyproofing and getting the house ready for walking baby, I haven't been really spending any time with the, er, walking baby. And she is not pleased. I know it's a weird thing for a single mother who does not have day care to say, but I just haven't been spending much time with her at all. We play for a short while, but we run a lot of errands, and when she naps, I work or nap, and when she eats, I must admit that these days I usually work around her, when she plays again, lately I try to get at least some housework done. Then she naps and I work. Up again, eat, work, play, work, and sleep. She's incredibly good natured and always has a smile for mommy but I'd love to spend more time with her. It's just been very very busy. No complaints mind you. Just busy. Which is good.

On another note, there's been an awful lot of discussion in blogville about this guy who lost his job at Microsoft for taking pictures of Macintoshes and posting them on his blog. I'm surprised that it has raised such a fuss for several reasons. One, he worked for MICROSOFT. Now don't get me wrong. I own many, many of Bill's products, but they are a mega-corporation and if you write about your company they are going to be pissed. No matter what you say. I'm guessing he was a young 'un. It's never fair when you get fired, but hello!! He's been out of work like two minutes. I've been out of work two and a half years. Perspective people. It's like those savekaryns and oddtodds. I thought about that kind of thing too, but then decided I didn't want to bug people with my problems in that way. I know that's not what this guy is doing, his situation is just taking off but people are sort of treating him like a martyr. Thing is there's a lot of us in this kind of situation for one reason or another and in one way or another, we'll get out of it. Maybe I'm just jealous because strangers seem to care so much about those people's situations. But I've always believed it was best never to make a big deal about your own situation. Oh well. Perhaps I'm the one who needs perspective. Ah yes, the blogger becomes the blogged.

So I will end on a posting I found on a blog called Loriloo, courtesy of Mightygirl. It cracked me up, hopefully it will you too. It reminded me of my experiences with fortune tellers. And San Francisco. And men ...