BA/BY

She is a snot machine/Won't let me suck her nose clean/She's still the best darn baby/That I've ever seen/She's got chubby thighs/And blue brown eyes/Knockin' me out with supersonic cries


...that's all I've got.

YUM

I just had the best breakfast! OMG It was like finding a chicken with a big red bow on it under your Christmas tree, slathered in Vermont maple syrup and covered in chunks of sweet apples, that came with a farmer's wife who spent her whole days baking vegan blueberry waffles and churning Earth's Best Organic 100% vegan whipped buttery spread who had a hen that laid only eggs over medium and who had ever so sweetly conned the fat farm pig into giving up its life willingly so that I might have little pancetta cubes to top it all off.

And...I got to drink nearly a whole cup of coffee before someone snotted all over my black sweater and demanded being removed from her throne.

T'was loverly.

I'm An Only Child...I Don't Share.

When I first had my darling child, I would just stare at her and hold her. I never put her down. Honestly. She was never out of my sight...unless Gramma stole her from me. (Which was probably a good thing.) A few months later, I realized I wasn't actually talking to her. Just looking at her. So I started saying everything. I did watch a bit too much of the Food Network. I thought for sure her first word was going to be "BAM!" and her first whole sentence, "Hey, y'all!" Well, it's paid off, all that blabbering about. She can talk! She says 'da-da' (which I've discussed here...da-da is me; I'm da-da). She says 'this' and 'teeth' and 'thank you' and her newest 'kitty cat'. Yes. You can tell that is what she's saying. She's not one of those children who speak a language only their mother can understand. Okay...maybe she is. But other people have heard her say it and I'm sticking to it.

I also wanted her to learn to play by herself like a good only child. She'll be just like me. Hiding her favorite best toys when friends come over. Playing both players of a board game and always letting the imaginary person win. (The latter has to be some new psychologist's wet dream. They're the ones that always figure out the good stuff. I would never cheat and play crappy cards of the imaginary players hand, or switch and say, "No. These were my cards." I should've too. I never won. I mean...of course, I still won...but not in my original seat. In the empty seat across from where I was sitting when I dealt the cards. Oh...forget it.) Maybe she'll watch the same movies over and over again. And stand in front of the TV rather than sit down to enjoy a show (not that I want her watching a lot of TV, but I do believe it can teach some street smarts. For example, do not rob a bank. You will always get caught.) So, as I'm typing this she's involved in some creative play. Well, one hand is. The other hand has a death grip on a bag of cough drops that she's not forking over.

I Am Not A Nurse

My job sucks. You probably already know this. If you aren't someone I speak to everyday and regale with tales of the ridiculousness of my workplace, then you are in fact one of God's chosen people. Consider yourself lucky that you don't have to listen to me yammer on about the newest craptastic rule or unwritten rule they've instituted.

When I started in October, the uniform was black and white. Not black and white together, as in a pretty stripedy shirt or pretty polkadotty skirts. One article had to be black and one white (e.g., black pants, white shirt or white pants black shirt); you could have a little bit of a white tank or something hanging out from underneath a black shirt. That would be acceptable. A few weeks later, I came to work and the receptionist said, "Oh. Did I forget to tell you we're wearing all black now." Uh...yeah.

Lemme state for the record that matching blacks is my fashion nemesis. It is the bane of my existence. Besides, I promised myself I would never work somewhere that required me to wear all black. PSA: This does NOT make you fancy, people!! And...if you have product in your hair, as many women do at a salon, you will have flakes on your shirt! FAIL. So I had to go out and buy some black shirts, because I gave the majority of them away in protest. (Allow me to say that during this time I was wearing black shoes everyday until the first real cold day when I noticed everyone had on boots. We're allowed to wear green shoes if we want, but no black shirts with white trim. WTFH?)

Well...as of June 1, we have to wear all white. Yes, you heard me right. All. White. Pants. Shirts. All. White.

I'm too pissed to keep writing.

The Circle of Porn

When my mother was expecting, my biological father worked at the Hustler bar in Dayton, Ohio. He had been working here in Cincinnati, but they transferred him. The story goes...my father walked into Larry Flynt's office, said, "My wife is expecting and I think I should go back to the Cincinnati club to be closer to her, if I should really be working here at all." The response he got was we can take care of that for you, if you want. OHMYGAWD. Did Larry Flynt put a hit on me? (I don't know if Larry Flynt was actually there--I forgot to ask that--but it was his office.) My mom said that my father didn't stick around long enough to find out, but that a few weeks before a waitress who'd revealed her pregnancy had "fallen" down the stairs and lost the baby. Hmm. I don't mean to make light of the situation, but it does sound very Law & Order, Special Smut Unit.

Well, my father quit, I survived and have no grudge against Larry Flynt or his empire. This is evident from my trip to the Hustler store with my girlfriends the other night. We were going to pick up a certain gift (one that could kill a werewolf if it could be fired from a gun, if you get my drift) for a friend. I walked in through security with them and it went off. Probably something in my purse; cell phone, perhaps. Nevertheless, the woman looked at me and said, "I'm sorry. We can't allow babies in here. It's the county law. We don't care, but if the news saw it we'd be shut down."

Oh yeah, I took baby. But she was all wrapped up in the Ultimate Baby Wrap. She couldn't have stolen anything. Her hands were immobilized. She was in a little baby straight jacket. And she doesn't know what she's looking at. At least, I don't think so.

So I waited outside with my friend while J. bought the gift. I said, "If the news shows up I'm going to say 'It's just the SEX people! I had the SEX to have this baby! Your mother had the SEX to have you! You came out of her vagina (most likely)!" I like to throw the words vagina and mother in the same sentence when talking to people who are conservative. I like to freak people out. It's better stated...your mother's vagina. Okay. Moving on.

Yay! Baby's first porn! And first time baby ever got kicked out of a store! It was a momentous occasion. We're all so proud.

Top Five: It's Snot Funny

I'm dealing with a few things right now. For one, I have a damned bird that has taken up residence in my window sill. I may have already mentioned this. I can't really remember who I've told. I tend to tell the same five stories to the same three people over and over again. Well this bird is on my last nerve. Did I mention birds hate me? You know how cats always go to the person who is allergic or hates cats? The one person who isn't paying them any attention? Well, imagine if you walked into a room of a hundred cats and 99 of them were saying, "C'mere human! C'mon! I'm gonna get ya!" And in the corner you spot a cat who refuses to make eye contact with you and is muttering something like..."Go away. I'm allergic. I'm wearing black. Don't come over here." Wouldn't you go straight to that cat and be all like..."Dude. What hell is up with the rest of those crazies?" (I may not have said that originally. Some other brilliantly funny person may have. I can't remember.) I think I may have been a cat or dog or bigger bird in a past life. I mean, don't get me wrong. It would be a great life to go around eating whatever you wanted without having to pay for it and then pooping all over everybody's stuff without getting pummeled. Of course, some of them do get pummeled. By cars. I did witness two baby birds being pushed out of a nest three stories from a roof. That was traumatic. Another time, I laughed at a friend's statement which described her "misfortune" and two seconds later a bird pooped on my brand new shirt. Now...that's karma. This bird is not going to die in my window sill and smell up the joint. It's building a condo and moving in the whole fam damnly.

Another is my new cell phone. I love it. It's lovely. One complaint. The battery. In the reviews everyone went on and on and on about how great the battery life was. I have to object. My old phone..."Low battery." Two days later: "Gettin' low here." Two days later: "Don't mean to bother you. I can hear you're busy. Just wanted to remind you we're in need of a charg-a-roonie." A day later: "...whenever you have a free moment," and then it would hand me the charger. This phone is all like..."Low battery." Five minutes later: "I warned ya. Bye-b...." That is, except for today while I was trying to nap with baby and it kept jingling to let me know it was dying. I couldn't reach it. Figures.

Baby is snotty. And I mean the snotty as in oh my goddess how was that all up inside your tiny skull snotty. I got out her humidifier for the first time last night. Out of the box. Since I got it at my shower. Yes. Filled it up. Had to put her down wailing and snotting. Carried it to my room. Plugged it in. Glanced at the directions, really only to see if it mentioned anything about not getting it near mommy's beloved closet hence mildew would take up residence on favorite articles when I saw that you're not supposed to use tap water, but distilled water instead. Sick babies are foreign to mommies who never get sick. And I mean never as in I'm calling in sick but if you go out today to get lunch or run an errand you're probably going to see me out looking cute and happy because I lied because I never get sick I just really wanted the day off never gets sick.

I ordered new contacts and glasses a few weeks ago and the contacts haven't arrived. The woman said to come back in so she could see how they were fitting. I've been wearing contacts since I was 13. I've been getting them at the same place for about 10 years. Hello! SENDTHEMTOMEIAMBLIND. Guess I'll have to go there today.

Lastly, Huddy has taken to calling me 'da-da'. I've convinced myself it's just easier for her to say than 'ma-ma'. I'm thinking though this is how I'll actually meet someone of the opposite sex. She'll say 'da-da,' he'll say "Daddy's girl, eh?" I'll say, "Actually, I'm single." Conversation ensues. I'll keep you posted.

What's For Dinner, Mountain Mama? Tootsie Roll. Take Me Home.

(The title is what I thought--when I was a wee lass--the lyrics were to Country Roads by John Denver.)

Even then, I was obsessed with food. I love it! It is my goal to have Hudson love everything as well. Expect for maybe hot dogs. And McDonald's. And jellybeans.

I always like to have something crunchy with whatever I'm eating, which I why I'm usually on the All Toast Diet (This reminds me of the time in college I went to the grocery and while I was in line, I decided to check my list to see if I'd actually purchased anything I'd gone there to get. My first item on the list: Toast. I was so embarrassed. I thought what if I'd dropped this list and someone came over the loud speaker and announced "Could the dumbass who is wandering the store looking for toast please come and pick up your list at the service counter? P.S. We only carry bread. Toast you make at home." Of course, now they have Texas Toast in the freezer section, but I'm not sure what makes it all Texas-y.) Then after dinner (hell...after lunch and breakfast, too) I like to have a bit of chocolate. In college I would always walk right outside the cafeteria and buy a bag of M&Ms or a Skor bar or one of those jumbo Tootsie Rolls or a handful of Hershey Kisses or sometimes one of all the above mentioned items. I lurve me some Tootsie Rolls. My mommy keeps them in a candy jar at her work station because she is the best mommy in the whole world and now the best grammy in the universe. I can't wait for Huddy to raid that candy jar. Gramma will probably steer her away from the Tootsie Rolls and force her to love Mary Janes or Bit-O-Honeys.

When I was little, I would go to the Five & Dime across from where my parents worked (they worked across the street from each other) and stock up on Now & Laters, Sixlets, Candy Cigarettes, and malted milk balls. In elementary school, we would get Black Cows if we had perfect attendance. That had me wondering years later, how many kids broke their record after having ripped out a filling or four eating those things. They were like Sugar Daddy but chocolatey. They were bargaining tools for us city kids. We traded them and horded them in our desks.

In high school, the cheerleaders would sell candy bars as a fundraiser. Crunch bars. Caramel bars. Almond bars. My mom would see me coming from a mile away, all the while knowing she'd have to just buy the whole box and take them to work to sell them for me. The whole damned school was selling them, from the basketball team to the shop class. We'd eat what we liked and when we ran out, we'd trade with someone else. I'll give you a crunchy one for your caramel. And so it went....

In NYC, I have a friend who allowed me to help kill a few Entemann's chocolate Halloween themed cakes. We were still buying them after Halloween. I believe we ate three of them together. I particularly liked how he'd cut a small piece for each of us as if that was all we'd have for the night. Good times. Same friend liked the Bounty bars in the blue wrapper, while I prefer them in the red. (Bounty is the Mars version of our Mounds, sold internationally, but can be found at stores that know their shit.) No competition between us. That's a good friend.

I knew a girl in NYC who said her mother ate so much chocolate when she was pregnant and said girl cannot stand chocolate. I nearly cried when I thought about how much chocolate I'd been eating and how I'd probably singlehandedly ruined it for baby before she'd ever had a chance to enjoy it. Then I widdled a little voodoo doll of said girl out of Toblerone and ate her.

I have been doing a lot of food replacement since I've had to give up dairy whilst nursing. Can't have cocoa? Will have 1 lb. bag of Twizzlers. Can't have cheese? Will have whole box of Annie's Bunny Grahams. You get the picture.

I'm sitting here thinking of this tonight, because I didn't know what to eat for dinner, so while I was feeding Huddy I made some wild rice. I went searching for something crunchy to go with it and nearly opened the rice cakes. Hello!! I did something like this once before. I made chicken for dinner and corn on the cob and I thought, Hmm...I need another side. As I was plating up my dinner, I looked down and realized, I'd opened a can of Mexican corn. I had chicken with corn and corn!! I do love all things corn, but come on!

So I didn't have anything crunchy to eat tonight, hence the rice went pretty much untouched. And no chocolate in the house. : ( And I forgot that I poured a cup of hot tea to make myself feel better and now I have wasted a bag of Twining's Naturally Decaffeinated Earl Grey. So sad. I really just want a Snicker but thereisdairyinitDAMMIT.

Hand-me-downs for Adults

On Sunday, I'm having my Annual Clothing Exchange. I didn't have one last year, though, because I was pregnant. And last thing I wanted was to see a bunch of great clothes I couldn't have. Just like when Target had their Go line and Proenza Schouler designed for them. Figures! I love their designs, but I wasn't going to buy anything while I was pregnant. Who knew what size I'd be after I had my little bundle of joy? Well, now I'm ready...though a couple of friends are now expecting. I found one maternity shirt I hadn't gotten rid of. I wore it to a friend's wedding in NYC. I have a picture from that night on my refrigerator. I was five months pregnant. You can't tell in the photo. But you can see my bra through it. Lovely.

Anyway...in the past, we've had so much stuff here it's been ridiculous. I got the most fantastic wallet. I've asked everyone who brought it and no one ever claimed it. At first I thought, meh...it's alright. Maybe I'll use it. Well, I used it so much it was starting to fall apart, so I retired it. I cannot find another one like it anywhere, and of course there's no brand name on it, which is partly why I love it so. Another girl got a Coach bag. There have been clothes from JCrew, Anthropologie, and of course Gap Outlet lines (Banana Republic, ON, Gap) considering we all rip that place to shreds. We line the hallway with shoes and handbags and pile the clothes on the coffee table and then go crazy like we're at a Barney's sale. I used to have a clothing rack to hang very special things. One blazer I got a couple of years ago was a vintage donation from my friend's mother. I love it! I couldn't believe no one else wanted it, that was until I had it on. Which, ironically, is how I feel when I see someone wearing something I gave away. "Hey! That's cute! Didn't look like that on me." Or did it?

Can't wait to see what I'll get this year.

So Happy

I received my free Senseo in the mail yesterday! I filled-out a survey on ShareSenseo.com and after sending in $15 for shipping (which is fine with me considering the Senseo costs $60) it was delivered to my door in under a week. I used to have a Senseo but someone, whose name will go forevermore unmentioned, took possession of it after the big d-i-v-o-r-c-e. It was a very rough period in my life. God, how I missed that coffeemaker. Well, no more! I am the proud owner of what I consider one of the best coffeemakers in all the coffeedom. And this is a big statement coming from me, I feel. I was a coffee bitch for many years at a wonderful little bakery/restaurant that is no longer with us. *moment of silence* When I started there, I had no freaking idea what a latte was. My boss had to write down on a guest check what all the drinks were, for example: Latte = espresso with hot milk or Cappuccino = espresso with 1/4 cup hot milk and the rest foam, etc. Every time I bent down to get the milk out of the fridge I would frantically scan the list hoping I looked like I knew what I was doing. I was appalled by the first person who ordered an Americano. Yuck! Two shots of espresso and hot water?? That's it??? That's is totally...oh...it's um...coffee. I love coffee. Hmm.... Interesting. I came to love lattes and cappuccinos in no time. I have had many a cup of coffee in my day. I started drinking coffee at around 11 years old. That's when I would get up in the morning for school and plug in the coffee for my parents. I still have my little mug I used to drink out of. But honestly, my mom still makes the best cup of coffee I'll ever have. She would come into my room in the mornings and let me have a sip of her coffee. Then she would say, "Oh here. You can have this one." Then she'd set it all the way across the room so I'd have to get up to get it. What trickery. It worked every time.

The Senseo makes such a lovely cup of coffee. A little frothy and the taste is quite nice. And very freaking hot. I just burned the crap out of my tongue. I'm sitting here waiting for the little bumps to pop up. The coffeemaker I have currently is a Black & Decker with a thermal carafe. With just the mention of B&D you'd think it must be the Terminator of coffeemakers. You'd be wrong. It turns off after brewing and doesn't keep the coffee hot enough for a second cup. Of course, I'm a huge nerd and I emailed the company to complain. They said, "Fill the carafe with hot water first and let it warm up." Oh, hi...thank you so much...I was just hatched yesterday and never would've thought of this...it still doesn't make a difference...your product sucks soggy coffee filters! Though I don't use those, I have a reusable one. Alas, that filter has been retired. You can even use your own coffee with the Senseo.

The Senseo has adorable little coffee pods. Maybe not great for the environmentally conscious, but whatever. Recycling is stressful. Which is why I needz my coffeez. My only complaint with the Senseo is, their idea of a two cup serving is the equivalent of a crappy bar's idea of a glass of wine. "You call this a whole glass of wine? You're on crack! I'm never coming here again!" *downs wine, leaves good tip anyway, goes back in a week when a different bartender's working* So, I push the button for the 8 oz. serving and then push the 4 oz. serving button to make the perfect cup of delicious caffeinated foamyness. I love it. I want to marry it. We'll honeymoon in Paris, because evidently it smells like French vanilla and who doesn't like that with a tablespoon of soy creamer and raw turbinado sugar? Crazy people, that's who.

QUIET. I NEED QUIET! I CAN'T STAND NOISE.

I would like to hunt down whoever designed baby's crib and nurse them no...that's creepy...rock them to sleep and smooch their little head and gently lay them down in bed, cover them up with a really soft blankie and then SLAM!!!!!! making the loudest noise possible right in their ear and when they wake up freaking out thinking the world is ending I'd like to make them stay awake for two hours while I nurse my daughter back to sleep because that noise woke her up as well, and it came from your damned loud crib gate. Jerky crib manufacturing people. You suck. The end.

18 kids??? OMGWTFBBQ

There is a couple in Arkansas, The Duggars. They have found it necessary to have 17 children with one on the way. They announced they were expecting #18 on the Today Show Friday.

Holy Lord. Some of those kids looked shocked. Probably because she has the older siblings raise the younger ones. Which got me thinking...where can I find an older kid to keep around the house?

I could adopt. but that costs money and I've got my eye on a new handbag.

I could foster, but then the state will just end up taking them away at some point and that ain't gonna get the laundry done.

I could meet a man who has a child. Eve Ensler (writer of The Vagina Monologues) met and married a man with a son. She ended up adopting the boy. Said boy was Dylan McDermott. Yeah...um...I don't think I could adopt that. I think I could do other things with that. Of course, if he was of the age to be adopted then I'd end up in prison and like my friend, Kara, I fear prison. And being jumped. And orange jumpsuits.

So, I guess I'll just have to hire a babysitter sometime. And since it's impossible to get pregnant and birth a teenager, I guess I'll just have to make do. And like they always say.... Happy Mother's Day.

Ahhhhhhmen.

My friend told me she's starting "this yoga class". I said, "Is it religious?" She said, "Well, sort of. How'd you know?" She lives in western Kentucky and is in a mommy group that is sort of affiliated with a church even though she doesn't consider herself a religious person. I'm proud of her for going. I should really do something like that. Not the religious part, but the getting together with mommies part. I bet baby would be walking already if she had been around more kids more often. Not that my walking wouldn't inspire her to want to walk. Or anyone else's walking, for that matter. She does see dogs walking a lot. And they're more her height, so maybe she wouldn't have been walking already. I was walking at 7 months, so I guess I'm lucky she's not running. Of course, I believe that's where the last ten pounds go. And I've already taken to wearing flats (in case she starts walking without warning where the sporting of heels could result in a few broken somethings) which has caused many a conversation to start with, "Holy crap, Jennifer. How short are you?" Good times.

But I digress.

Said friend read about a sunrise tai chi class being held in a park and she was thinking about going. She has a stay-at-home dad friend (how hottt is that??) who is way into tai chi. She was going to tell him about it until she read that he is the person teaching the class. I said, "Is it religious? Are you going to be saying Ahhhhhhmen instead of Ohhhhhhhm?" She said no, none of the above. She met this guy at the coffee shop where she goes to hang out with other parents who like to enjoy the occasional cup of coffee where it's hot or mostly warm the entire time they're drinking it, which means kids are usually not present. I told her, "You could take a chai tea to your tai chi!"

This made me think of other places where food is not appropriate. For example, do not bring McDonald's McGriddles to church to eat during the sermon. Not for you or your children. You will wait for the Christ Chex and wine like the rest of us.

Also, do not go to a spa twenty minutes after your scheduled appointment time and then go to the bathroom and then pour yourself a coffee and then ask your massage therapist if you can take it into the room with you. Sure. You can take it in, but you're not going to be allowed to drink it. How the hell is this supposed to happen? I'm certainly not going to hold your mug for you while you're face down on the table. Nor am I going to let you sit up while I'm massaging your parts to let you make loud slurping noises while you're supposed to be relaxing which reminds me turnoffyourdamnedcellphone! Ahem....

Coffee does to one thing to people and you can imagine what this is if you've ever been to a Cracker Barrel. It sends people running to the bathroom. So certainly it is not a good idea to drink coffee before or during a massage. I will say (because massage therapists are not actual therapists and therefore I don't have to be so confidential with my sessions, though I won't name names) three people have "passed gas" during their massage. That's not a lot in seven years. More did that in the year I took Pilates Reformer classes. But no one ever even flinched during their massage. Oh mah gawd. If I had done that during a massage I would've died and said, "Oh mah gawd. I want to die. I'm so embarrassed." Then I realized...oh mah gawd. What if they didn't realize that they had just "passed gas" and for some reason thought it was ME!!??? I can't just let them think it was me, but I can't say, "Oh. Excuse you, stinky ass." Maybe when they come out of the room and I hand them their water I could say, "Here's some water for you. Be sure to drink plenty today. And be sure to head straight to that bathroom over there since I guess you have to go pretty badly. Have you ever tried Beeno?" Maybe the next time it happens and the client doesn't apologize I'll just say, "Oh...it's okay. It happens all the time when people are relaxed. It's a good sign." Of course, I would be lying...which is a sign I should skip all the fun mommy times and go to church. I'm taking snacks.

I WANT MY TWO DOLLARS!

Payday was last Friday. I went to work with baby and friend in tow. Ran in through the pouring rain, grabbed my check and left. We aren't allowed to get our pay checks until 4 p.m. Total crock of crap. So after work, I have to drive back to work to get my check, because if I don't get it on Friday afternoon and drive all the way back to Covington (because that's where my bank is...down the street) I won't be able to deposit it until Monday because I work on Saturdays and the bank will be closed before I get off. HELLO! GAS IS LIKE $5!! Whew. Anyhoo...

I got out to the car and opened my check. There's always that sense of excitement, like hearing lottery numbers that are so close to the ones you have on your ticket, but are always one number off. I looked at my pay stub and my heart sank. This is wrong. This cannot be all I made.

The next day I went into work and told a girl there that my check was off by quite a bit. She said, "Oh yeah, girl. [The owners] were out of town so we only got paid for the first week. You have to wait until the next pay period for the rest of it." What. The. Effing. H.

I went out to the desk and asked before my first massage because I didn't want to transport negative I will kill someone if I have to energy through my fingertips into my client. I said, "I have a question about my paycheck." The receptionist said, "We paid you for a week. You can have the rest next pay period." She must've noticed from the look on her face that I was about to go postal. Or, I guess that would be spatal. "Or, they can cut you a check on Tuesday."

Thank you.

Live to Eat

Inspired by one of my favorite blogs.

Get out of your breakfast rut!

xoxo

What time is it?

omg Where do the days go? Since this earthquake, my child has lost her ever lovin' mind. She has been waking up at 6.30 a.m. and let me tell you...mommy no likey. I am not a morning person. I take that back. I am a morning person if there is someone around me who is NOT a morning person. Then I turn into a vaudeville act *jazz hands* ya da da dada da da da da!!!! But if someone else is the morning person all chatty and happy and ready to greet the sunshine with smiles and bright eyes, I want to pelt them with heavy objects I can reach from my bed. But since we're talking about my baby here, I just beg her to please go back to sleep. She says 'no' or something more like 'ehhhhhhhhhhhh' and then just bangs her head into my chest with the force of a thousand hammers. I think that means she is hungry. Her new trick is to pull my shirt out as far as she can so she exposes me to the world and then she laughs...down my shirt. Oh yeah. Good times. This is punishment because I saw a friend's son do this about 9 years ago, when he was just learning to walk, and was horrified for her. I was also shocked to see the same friend eat a piece of banana that had fallen out of that same son's mouth. Yep. I was grossed out, yet I did the exact same thing this morning.

And today, for the first time, Huddy crawled forward! I couldn't believe it! For the past couple of months, she's been rolling wherever she's wanted to go and most recently has been sitting up, going forward and spinning on her knees over and over until she gets whatever it is she's spotted. She has backwards crawled herself under end tables, daybeds, swings and desks. She stands all by herself, holding on to ottomans and my leg and chairs. I usually am nearby in a panic hoping she doesn't crack her head open.