Sometimes I think about how much money I would spend for free time.

When we were in Maui, Laef had Thanksgiving Day completely off. Just knowing that I’d have an extra set of hands to help made me beyond excited. And then Laef agreed to watch Harper for 1 hour so I could go to the pool. ALL BY MYSELF.

Then of course something happened with work, and he got called away seconds before I was to escape. I’m not kidding, I almost went Harper on his ass. I had to fight back a serious meltdown. I could taste that one hour, and it tasted like a Pina Coloda spiked with Banana Boat SPF 4.

In the end, he didn’t have to be gone very long, and when he came back I went to the pool.

And let’s be honest, I totally missed them both after 30 minutes. But since finding an hour seems impossible in real life, I forced myself to order another Corona and tough it out. It was so hard. Times were tough.

So, anyway, we came home from Hawaii on Friday. Laef had to work all day Saturday and Sunday. When he got home Sunday evening I handed Harper to him so that I could do a few things.

Laef: “OK, well, I need to poop first.”

Me: Side eye. “OK. I guess you can poop.”

10 minutes later I realize I am still on Harper duty.

Me: “Um, this is NOT one of those poops. This is not a “read the entire Week cover to cover poops.”

Laef: “What?”

Me” “NOW. If I can’t take a shower longer that 4 minutes, you certainly can NOT poop and enjoy a magazine for 10 minutes areyoufuckingkiddingme? Do you want me to cut you?”

I think it was at that very minute that Laef finally realized how valuable time is.

He was about as excited to sit on the toilet as I was to sit by the pool.

You are going to read some things here that might make you ew. Don’t worry, it’s not about sex. Because, um, well … what is sex?

It’s about Harper’s wandering mouth.

You are not allowed to type comments about how disgusting she is, or how I am subjecting her to diseases and filth. I can only control so many things in any given day. So far she has not died, gotten sick or swallowed her hand.

So, she’s a baby. Which means she drools bucket loads. And, to be honest, I hate baby drool. Except for Harper’s. Kind of the same way I don’t love having other people’s cats crawl on me. Sanch is the only one who can put is litter-box paws and stank ass anywhere near me.

Harper has been drooling for a long time. I mean, we’ve been using the term, “Maybe she’s teething” for like 3 months.

The bitch is not teething. She drools just because. I guess that’s what babies do.

However, over the last month she has gotten ambidextrous. She can use every finger and every toe to figure out a way to put EVERY F’N thing in her mouth. Sometimes she will put her foot so far down her throat she gags. Or she will gag on her fingers. At first I was worried, like, is she going to vom all over me from putting her fingers down her throat? Is she going to become the next great supermodel?

But, days go by and she doesn’t choke herself, and she doesn’t barf so I just laugh at her. “Hey dummy, chill on the fingers.”

Every time I put her anywhere, her first thought is “Where can I put my mouth?” When we did sleep training, I checked on her because she got quiet pretty easily. Well, she had her face smashed up against her crib sucking on the wood. When we do bath time, I can not get her to focus because she insists on leaning over and sucking on the tub. Or her bath book. Or the wash cloth. Reading books is a whole other issue. Apparently books taste better than rice cereal (which is about the only thing she doesn’t like putting her mouth on). I have seen my shoe in her mouth, Sanch’s tail, the Bjorn, the remote, my cell phone, her towel, my hair, my cheek, the baby monitor … basically whatever she sees.

I have given up freaking out.

Except for when we boarded a Southwest flight the other day. I put her on the seat so that I could put my bag away. I looked down and she had her mouth on the arm rest. I promised myself I wouldn’t be that spazz traveling mommy, but EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.

I’m sure it’s all totally normal, but it cracks me up every time. Especially when I come into the living and see her licking the floor.

Licking floor > Fun toys.

To be fair, she is also starting to put some real food in her mouth.

So, right after Harper was born, I started noticing that I couldn’t hear very well out of my left ear. The problem proceeded to get worse, and after asking Laef to repeat himself 400 times over the course of the last month, he insisted I go to the doctor.

I don’t know exactly what I thought the problem was, but I certainly was not prepared for them to tell me that I have otosclerosis and will have to have surgery to replace a bone in my ear. This condition is apparently common in women late in pregnancy or during menopause.

So, yes, this is yet another thing that I will be blaming on Harper. I mean, it’s not enough that I pee while jogging, average 4 hours of sleep per night, have a beer gut (without the enjoyment of beer), and brush out giant amounts of hair each morning.

No, I also have to be practically deaf in one ear.

Now I am wondering what could be next.

All joking aside,  it doesn’t matter all that much.

We just experienced our first holiday with Harper, and I have to say that it brought out the kid in both of us. We took her trick or treating (yes, she is only 4 months old and did not know what the hell was going on) Monday night, and our excitement level was quite high. We both realized that this might be the last year we can eat all of her candy without her throwing a giant fit.

When we started walking down the street and approached the first house, we stopped and looked at each other.

“What do we do? We just knock on the door, right?”

Yeah. OK.

I mean, it has been like 25 years since I have been trick or treating (I just barfed typing that) and like 6 years since Laef has gone. We were rusty.

Most of the houses in our neighborhood had bowls with candy on the porch. I don’t know if it’s because people were out with their own kids, or if that’s how it’s done these days. That’s not how it was done back when I was a kid, which is a good thing because I didn’t exactly follow instructions, and a note that says, “TAKE ONE ONLY” wouldn’t have meant shit to me. Actually, yes, it would have meant, “TAKE AS MUCH AS YOU WANT AND RUN AWAY FAST!”

I tried really hard to only take once piece to put in Harper’s trick or treat bag, but it was not easy.

Laef: “Remember, you are trying to set an example for her.”

Me: “Bah. Fine. But we can take three pieces. One for me, one for you and one for her. That is totally legit.”

Laef: “Oooh. Get that flavored tootsie roll.”

I mean, no matter how old you are, a bowl full of candy is a hard thing to resist.

And no matter how deaf, tired or decrepit you feel, spending the holidays with your kids will make you feel like a child all over again.

While Harper passed out from her first Halloween experience, Laef and I dumped all her candy on the table and took turns picking what we wanted. It was like the fantasy draft of candy picking, and of course the last thing left was some janky candy corn.

Candy Corn > Tebow.

I took Harper to her four month appointment last week. I asked the doctor about weaning Harper from her swaddle, and if we could start letting her cry herself  to sleep. I told her that we usually rock her for at least 30 minutes before she is sound enough asleep to put her in the crib.

You should have seen the cut eye the doctor gave me.

“Stop doing that, ” she said.

Me: …

Doctor who obviously doesn’t have kids: “Put her in the crib when she is still awake. No paci, no rocking. The last thing she will remember before she falls asleep is that she didn’t have a paci and she didn’t have you rocking her.”

I walked home thinking about this, and built up my confidence to take the plunge. Of course, my fear is that the last thing she’ll remember before falling asleep is that her mommy and daddy have abandoned her, and um, WHERE THE FUCK IS MY PACI? ONE THING AT A TIME, PEOPLE.

Sidenote: EVERYONE has a different approach, thought, comment on parenting. I am not telling anyone what to do or judging what anyone else does. I’m simply relaying what we are doing, and how it is going for us. I know we could pick her up from the crib, or give her the paci, or rock her to sleep. We are trying to teach her to fall asleep on her own because we believe that in the long run it will be better for us, and for her. We have never let her sleep in our bed, and she’s been sleeping in her crib, through the night for a long time. It’s not that I don’t want to snuggle her and have her sleep next to me sometimes, it’s just that I have to be functioning at work everyday. And if she sleeps next to us in the bed, the only person sleeping is Harper.

Maybe this is selfish of us, but we also save ourselves a lot of time and headaches if we can teach her to fall asleep by herself. The first night we tried this, she cried for 20 minutes, and then fell asleep. We have spent more time in the past trying to rock/bouce/shush her to sleep. There are times when we spend almost 40 minutes trying to get her to sleep so that she can take a 30 minute nap.

Anyway, it was the absolute worst 20 minutes ever, and we had to work some serious restraint not to go in and pick her up.

After she fell asleep we went into her room to look at her to see if it was real. Then we stood over the crib watching her sleep, like totally proud of ourselves.

“Holy Shit! She feel asleep! By herself. She’s such a big girl.”

High 5!

Woop.

And while we were standing there gloating over this magnificent site, Sanch cruised in to her bedroom meowing his face off trying to see what was going on. So, OF COURSE, she opened her eyes. As if on cue, Laef and I both dropped to the ground, below crib height. We didn’t want her to see us. So, we sat on the floor of her room, inches from her crib, on all fours. We looked back and forth at each other, like, shit. What do we do??

Finally, I gave the hand signal that I was crawling out.

Then Laef crawled out.

I mean, REALLY?

It was like we were trying to avoid a major explosion. We took cover, and crouched in fear.

Of a baby.

What the fuck?

P.S. It might have been us high-fiving and celebrating while standing over her that woke her up. But, it’s way easier to blame everything on the cat.

Yesterday Harper went to her first-ever birthday party for a friend. The party was in Irvine, about an hour from our house. This is the farthest Harper has ever been. Another milestone completed.

This was also the longest she has had to be in her car seat. She does not like being in the car seat. Not for car rides or stroller rides. She can’t see everything, and that just makes her super pissed.

So we timed the trip around her nap so that she would sleep the whole way there and the whole way back.

She did.

But then she was a grouchy bitch the rest of the day.

Since that is out of the norm for her, thus began our quest to figure out what was wrong with her since she is not Harvard-bound, and isn’t able to talk or sign yet.

1. It’s poop-related. She hasn’t pooped all day. It must be her tummy. Let’s google it.

Me: “Oh! It says you can stick a lubed-up q-tip in her butt to get the muscles going!”

Laef: …

Me: “Maybe she’s teething.”

2. She has pretty much stopped accepting her pacifier unless she is dead tired. She drools buckets. She’s fussy. But, truthfully, we have no idea if that is what it is so we don’t take any action with her gums.

3. Maybe she hates us.

4. She hates the car, and is mad she just spent 2 hours in her car seat.

5. The birthday party wasn’t for her, so she’s jealous.

6. She rode two hours in the car and couldn’t even eat cake.

7. Too much stimulation at the birthday party.

8. She is tired.

9. She is off her routine.

10. She hates Sanchez.

11. The Cardinals lost.

12. She hates her dress.

13. Her diaper is too tight?

14. She’s cold.

15. She’s hot?

16. She’s hungry?

17. A growth spurt?

18. Mickey Mouse Clubhouse was a rerun.

19. She hates her skullet.

20. Um, maybe she’s human and she’s just having a bad day.We’re going to go with that because we HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT COULD BE. Why can’t babies talk? Things would be way easier.

We closed the night with our daily walk to CVS and her mood seemed to pick up. So, of course we couldn’t resist helping her pick out her Halloween costume for this year. She is going to be a Toddler without a Tiara.

The other day I was rushing around to find a new purse for work because the one I normally use had an entire cup of coffee spilled inside of it. These are the kinds of things that happen when you have to carry 512 things to the car in the morning now that you have a baby. I swear, the amount of shit I am constantly lugging around is ridiculous.

Half of the time, I forget what I have, and as I’m walking to the car, I quickly hope that I have the most important things: milk, phone, keys, baby. OK, I guess not in that order, but those are the things that I would have to go back for. I usually drink my coffee while getting ready, but on this particular day shit was haywire for some reason or another and I put my travel mug inside my purse (save your comments, I am aware of how stupid that is, but the plan was to have my purse upright. That was until I forgot I brought coffee with me and proceeded to just throw my purse into the car).

When I got home, I immediately threw away my purse. It was a little devastating, but made me realize that I’m actually glad I never got that Coach purse I always wanted. That would have been on the list of “shit my kids ruined” because this definitely linked back to Harper in some way.

Later that night, Laef pulled the purse out of the trash and said that it was salvageable. Um, OK, whatever. I’m too fucking tired to salvage a $50 purse so I will just watch how you do it. He hung it in the shower to dry out.

Me: “Ummm…is that your plan?”

Laef: “It still works.”

Me: “It fucking reaks and I’m not carrying around a coffee purse.”

Laef: “That might be just what you need.”

ANYWAY, back to the main point of looking for a back up purse. I found one. And when I went to transfer all my stuff in it, I noticed two diapers. And I got really excited. WHEN THE FUCK DID THIS HAPPEN? Why aren’t there lost MAC lip glosses and crinkled $5 bills? Why am I excited about diapers?

Oh yeah. Because diapers = $$$.

I don’t even know why we’re bothering with diapers at this point. The other day we went to a bbq and Harper was passed around all day acting like a little angel. Smiling and cooing and being everyone’s best friend. But the minute we put her in her carseat, she apparently took a giant shit. Only we didn’t know that, and so when Laef took her out of the car, he was holding her, talking to her, and making her laugh. Then he felt something wet all over his brand new Banana Republic shirt.

I am not going to lie. I was laughing my ass off. Her legs were covered in poop and Laef was just trying to keep it together, but the look on his face said, “WHAT THE FUCK, I NEVER SPEND $40 ON T-SHIRTS AND NOW THAT I HAVE, THERE IS POOP ON IT. FORGET ABOUT THE BABY, WHERE IS THE STAIN REMOVER? WAAAAAAAAAAA.”

I spent the next 20 minutes cleaning the car seat and hoping that my car won’t spell like an outhouse.

The very next day we decided to have a nice leisurely Sunday morning in bed with our sweet baby. Laef brought his coffee in bed. Yes, you already know where this is going. Except, washing sheets and doing general chores require an insane amount of energy these days. I was so happy and proud that we had clean sheets on the bed. Then Harper threw up and Laef spilled his coffee trying to avoid puke.

I spent the rest of the day ignoring the sheets thinking that it wouldn’t be that bad. Then I laid down for a nap. Needless to say, the sheets were washed 10 minutes later. I mean, the coffee was on Laef’s side, and I contemplated telling him that if I needed a coffee purse, then he needed coffee sheets. But, the puke was on my side, so I didn’t think this was the time for jokes.

This baby shit is testing my endurance in a way I did not think was possible.

Back to the “why do we even bother with diapers” issue.

After dealing with the sheets, Harper decided that she would play ANOTHER funny joke on mommy. While she was sitting on my lap, she let out a few farts. I mean, I thought they were farts. So I sat with her for a while longer, and then I felt something. I picked her up and there on my lap was a puddle of poop. I mean a puddle. All over me and her and her freshly clean blanket.

My first thought was not to barf.

My second thought was: FINE. I SURRENDER. THE BABY WINS AND WE WILL HAVE STAINS EVERYWHERE.

But, I’m not buying a mini van. Ever.

P.S. It’s a good thing she is cute.

Because I work at a school, I figured the title was appropriate. Plus, I totally picked out my outfit last night, woke up before my alarm went off out of pure excitement, and I totally carry a back pack to work now.

It is so hard to describe all the feelings I have today. Harper has been in day care since Tuesday, but I stayed home her first two days so that no one would see my cry. Also, so I could go to the pool, get a manicure, clean the house, do laundry, and go grocery shopping.

On one hand, I am super excited to see people. Real live people who are taller than 21-inches. People who I can talk to about important things like what in the hell happened to Ali Lohan’s face. Not that I don’t love my conversations with Harper, but one can only assess poop and talk about how the penguin’s wings don’t help him fly because he plays in the water, not the sky.

Honestly, it came down to this: Me getting extremely excited that Harper could start mimicking my fart noises.

It is time to go back to work.

It is time to talk about other things. I often wondered if having a baby is what it feels like to be famous. Laef and I would get stopped a lot when we’d be out on walks with her. People want to ask all kinds of questions or tell you the stories of their baby. Or ask how much sleep you’re getting. Or what is her name. It’s hard to get from point A to point B without lots of baby talk. Which, is fine, until the woman at Bloomingdales told us that Harper was too young to be out in public, and that in her culture they don’t take babies out until they are 3 months old because they don’t want the spirits to get them.

This is a true story.

As is the story of the woman we met at Big 5 in Santa Monica who told us that if we have a boy next time we should seriously consider NOT having him circumsised. “My husband feels like he was amputated. It’s a form of amputation.”

Run. Away.

We also met a woman who stopped us to tell us how much she wanted a baby, but she is 40 and single, and her dog is her baby. She then showed us the “barrette that is for actual little girls” in the dogs hair, and told us that the dog has its own bedroom complete with children’s furniture. We were trying to abort the mission when she told us that she is a psychic and to stand there quiet (on the corner of San Vicente and Montana in Brentwood) so she could “see” if we were going to have a boy with our next baby.

So, there we stood looking at woman with her eyes closed in the middle of a busy intersection trying to tell us the fate of our next baby. We thought about running away and claiming we were just playing hide-n-seek if we got caught, but we figured we didn’t have much else to do so we’d see what she said. “I’m not seeing a boy.”

We met lots and lots of baby people with all kinds of stories. I was able to enjoy an entire summer with Harper. I was able to find out if the moms I see pushing strollers in the morning on my way to work had the life I wanted. I learned that those walks are often out of necessity, and sometimes not by choice. Tammy Taylor walked 5 miles in the blazing Texas heat on an episode of Friday Night Lights and people thought she was crazy. “Gotta keep the baby moving,” she said.

And, it’s true.

We spent so many days and nights walking Harper around just to keep her happy.

She is 12 weeks old today.

And she is a happy, happy baby.

Which makes  me proud and happy.

Now it’s time to work so that we can pay for her daycare, which might as well be called college because it costs almost as much.

There is one thing people who have been through the baby-raising stage of life will always tell you: It gets better.

I totally wanted to make a youtube video like this one, except with people like Angelina Jolie, Jennifer Garner, Pink, and Gwen Stefani telling me “It Gets Better”. But those bitches have a lot of money, so they probably have nannies. I would totally have a nanny if we could afford it. Like someone who is on nighttime duty.

But, anyway, I do believe it gets better. Then I saw a 2-year-old in Ralphs this morning LOSE HIS FUCKING MIND over gum. (Dude. That was totally me when I was little. And, by little I mean 9, and acting like a 2 -year-old STILL because we couldn’t get Capri Sun). To be fair to this kid, gum is like a really, really big deal when you are little. I don’t think there was anything I wanted more in life than a pack of gum when I was between the ages of 3-37.

While our lives have gotten easier in many ways, and we have managed to get on a routine, I am wondering if we will get better as parents.

Because we do some shit sometimes that I am thankful no one saw. For example, about 2 weeks ago, Laef was giving Harper her bath. He was getting ready to rinse her hair and I told him that I was starting to put some water on her face so that she would begin to get used to it for when we start going to the pool. What I meant was that I let some water slowly drip down her face. What Laef heard was, “Oh, you’re throwing water in her face as though she was being dunked in the pool.” So he threw a glass of water on her face. To his credit, he blew in her face first so she’d take a breath, and not drown.

Well, it didn’t work. She did not likey the water in the face. Mommy had a panic attack, daddy felt like shit, Sanch was like, “Whatever. I’ve been dealing with these two for years. This is just the beginning.”

OK, so she didn’t die, and nothing bad came of it, but Laef and I were like, “God Damn, I can’t believe people let us be in charge of a baby.”

A few days later, I put Harper in the Bjorn and we walked up to some friends house. When we got there, Laef casually pointed out that Harper’s leg was blue. This is because her leg was pinched a little in the Bjorn. But she never cried or anything so I didn’t know. Of course, when you see your baby’s leg blue and devoid of blood, your heart immediately drops to your stomach. We took her out, daddy did whatever you do to get the blood flowing. And we went on our day.

But, seriously. What are we doing???

Then two nights ago we forgot to turn on the monitor after putting Harper to bed. She is a saint when it comes bed time, and is down for the count by 7:45 p.m. We don’t usually hear from her until 6:30 a.m. But on the night we forgot to turn on the monitor, Laef had Tosh.0 on at a 43 volume and I was in the kitchen making dinner. And all of a sudden we heard Harper screaming. We go in and get her, and it seems as though she’s been crying for a bit because her face is very red and she has lots of tears.

Ugh. Nothing will kick you in the stomach harder than that.

So, yeah. We are still figuring this whole parenting thing out. And she has her ways of getting back at us: Sneezing with her diaper off, which leads to a rocket of poop flying all over the bedroom. Or pissing on me the minute I take her diaper off for bath time. Or throwing up on me right when I put on a fresh shirt.

I guess we’re all getting better at one-upping each other.

Today I took you to daycare for a trial run before you start full time next week.

I would be lying to you if I didn’t say that last week I was counting the days until today. Don’t get me wrong, we’ve had a great summer, but I was looking forward to having one day all by myself.

Then I woke up this morning with a pit in my stomach. Everything we’ve done for the past 2 months (including your epic meltdowns over … well, I’m not even sure sometimes what you’re crying about to be honest) whether hard or fun, we’ve done together. Some days you are in a better mood than other days, but just having you there while I’m cooking dinner or taking a nap or sneaking onto Facebook before you realize I have turned my attention away, has become a part of my life.

I’ve learned to live my life with you in it. I’ve learned how to do almost everything one-handed. I’ve learned to eat cereal and drink coffee in under 2 minutes. I’ve learned every street around Brentwood as you really, really like taking walks. I’ve learned that you prefer to take walks in the Bjorn so you can be close to someone and see everything there is to see. I have learned that we’ve got exactly 50 minutes in the stroller before you get really pissed. I’ve learned that sometimes when you cry really hard it’s because mommy forgot to burp you and you need to let out a man-sized belch. I’ve learned that you will nap for exactly 30 minutes 4 times a day, and not a minute longer. Therefore I know exactly what I can get done in 30 minutes or less, and Rachel Ray should watch her back because I am thinking of pitching a show about how many things a person can accomplish in 30 minutes or less. And it doesn’t involve EVOO for fucks sake (EAR MUFFS, sweetie).

I’ve learned that no matter how frustrated I get at times, one smile from you can make everything easier. You have the ability to take away all my worries and guilt that I might be doing something wrong.

When I dropped you off today, you started to cry a little and then Noushin (Nou-Nou as the other kids call her) took you and you just gazed at her with big eyes. She has that baby-whisperer thing, I think. Because I’ve never seen you have that look except with me or daddy (and that’s only on a good day). I think you are in good hands.

But I am counting the minutes until you come home and we do bath time and you scream your face off when I take you out of the water to dress you. I never thought I’d look forward to that part of my day.

I miss you, buddy.

XO

Mommy

Well, after 10 weeks, it’s now official: Harper has been hazed.

For years, Sanch has tolerated us. I was too lazy to look through all the blogs, but there are way more stories. Like the time Laef took Sanch in the shower with him. Or the time we put a onesie on him.

He still gets his fair share.

I used to feel guilty that maybe Sanch was feeling neglected. Now I’m starting to think he’s actually happier. There’s just not enough time for us to torture him. He is also quite aware that we are preoccupied and knows that he can sneak on the counter or in the bedroom, and enjoy both for an extended period of time before we realize he is M.I.A.

Anyway, yesterday I decided to take Harper to the pool. She turned 10 weeks old so I figured double digit weeks qualified her for such an activity. And, also, I am running out of things to do with her. Well, things that are free. How many fucking walks around Brentwood can a person make in a 10 week period? I will tell you: TOO MANY.

Little babies shouldn’t be in the sun too much, but the pool we went to had lots of shade, and we used the kind of suncreen our pediatrician said was OK so don’t yell at me.

Before we could go, however, we had to make a quick trip to CVS for some Little Swimmer diapers. Turns out they only carry size medium, which is for babies that are 24 lbs. Harper is almost 12 pounds. I bought them anyway.

Laef is not the only MacGyver around here.

Athletic tape is this family’s duct tape. It will fix anything.

She’s a fashionista in training because once she had her suit on, you couldn’t see anything wrong.