Archive for the ‘baby business’ Category

547 days old.

Posted 28 Apr 2011 — by Mrs. Jenna
Category Abigail, baby business, motherhood, paparazzi

(That’s 1.5 years old for those of you who weren’t math majors. Or who don’t have a calculator handy.)

Yes, ladies and germs…Abigail Rita is a year and a half old, as of yesterday.

Last week she had her 18 month check, and she her stats were 26 pounds, and 32 inches.

She is just a ball of awesome. We love her so much. She talks so much…I can’t even begin to write out the list. She IS counting to two…which is effing awesome. She walks around saying “One…TWO!” about everything. We’re working on #3 now. :)

And now, some pictures of the pretty lady.

getting friendly with ants (gross) (and cute)

enjoying the park and rock collecting

my lovely baby sweets

The Nursery – where is it now?

Posted 19 Apr 2011 — by Mrs. Jenna
Category Abigail, baby business, house stuffs, paparazzi, retail therapy

Since I posted a “Nursery” tab at the top of the this blog, I realized how much we’ve added to it since then. The biggest addition being a toddler.

Not that I had another baby, but let’s be honest – this isn’t a nursery anymore. It’s Abby’s room.

I look back at all the initial photos I posted, and they’re so organized and minimal. This is due to two reasons – one being that Abby really WAS a baby, and was not able to do anything in this room but sleep in it. The second is that – and I’ll be honest here – I was trying to impress the folks at Ohdeedoh. And it didn’t work. I still get a lot of traffic from there, but it’s mostly people checking out the paint color on the walls. (It’s Benjamin Moore’s Grey Wisp if you’re curious).

Anyway, this room has changed from my version of baby heaven to Abby’s. There’s more toys, more books, more EVERYTHING because she needs deserves everything.

view from the doorway

detail: pictures opposite dresser

changing table, glider & shelves

detail: hook under shelves

detail from top shelf: personalized crest waiting to be framed

bookshelf, crib, diaper genie (gross), mounds of toys

And a more interesting view of the same picture:

VERY interesting


So, that’s a good vision of Abby’s room today-much more lived in, more crap, still more to do, but loved so very much by a little girl and her parents.

(if you have any questions about where we got anything, just let me know and I’ll add it to the bottom of this post!)

(oh, and sorry but not really about the photo quality. the fancy camera’s batteries were dead so I was stuck with ye olde point & shoot. my bad.)

Baby Announcement Crest – Found at a gorgeous Etsy shop called Spread the Love. Melanie was awesome to work with!

The terrible 1.5’s.

Posted 12 Apr 2011 — by Mrs. Jenna
Category Abigail, baby business, motherhood, not so much

Mondays are my “Abby + Me” days, where I don’t work and she and I do whatever. I would like to say we play lots of games and do arts + crafts and it’s nothing but play dates and swing sets, but no. We usually do laundry!! and go grocery shopping!! (I add the exclamation marks because whenever I talk about doing these things with Abby, I act SUPER excited and make the oh-face (not THAT one, perv) with my eyebrows raised and gasp for joy. So now, when I mention them, SHE makes the oh-face and gasps for joy. As if they’re the greatest activities ON EARTH. She’s smart most of the time, people.)

Anyway, yesterday was no exception. We went and visited the hubs at his work so his coworkers could see that he actually DID have a child 18 months ago and those weren’t just pictures of someone else’s kid. Then we hopped back in the car and drove to the grocery store.

In the beginning it was uneventful, and quite like the normal trip to the grocery store; Abby wanting to hold everything and me attempting to keep things like bread and eggs out of her hands. I grabbed a jar of peanut butter which she immediately wanted to hold. I hand it to her – what could she possibly do? It’s plastic. She got her little hands on that jar and started pounding it on the cart, only to have it rebound up and hit her in the forehead.

Cue the red-faced silent cry that can only give way to the GIGANTIC-EXHALE-SCREAM-CRY.

I quickly calmed her and stuffed her binkie in her mouth and left that aisle as quickly as possible since everyone seemingly assumed I had just cattle-branded my daughter. (At least that’s what I would have assumed.) Little did I know that this small chain of events was enough to convert this normal trip to the grocery store to the GROCERY STORE TRIP FROM HELL. We went from zero to Damien in like, 30 seconds.

I grabbed the next item on the list, mandarin orange cups, which OF COURSE she wanted to hold. Only, I didn’t know she’d changed over into Satan spawn and as soon as I handed them to her she threw them on the floor, breaking the packaging and busting open two of the fruit cups. I whispered a quick “ABIGAIL!” under my breath and ran the leaking package back down the aisle to get a new one, when I hear the following:


(For the record, I was about 15 feet from the fruit cups. And JUST LEFT HER SIDE. And she wasn’t in the middle of the aisle. She was in the cart off to the side but far enough away so she couldn’t start tearing things off the shelf.)

I turn around and see some old bag with a cart full of rotisserie chicken and prune juice pointing at my kid and yelling in the middle of the grocery store. I grabbed a new package of mandarin oranges and walked back to my cart, glaring at the old woman. She said (loudly) “The nerve of some parents!” and then started shuffling away. So, now I have devil child giving me shit, and some random geriatric practically calling social services.

After this I try buying some meat products, Abby screams because I won’t let her hold them, and then the spitting starts. (When she’s mad, she’ll purse her lips and expel a bunch of spit, which just drips down her chin and on her clothes. Again, DAMIEN.) I mutter, “You are SO going into time-out when we get home.” In hindsight, I can see how my increasing anxiety and crabbiness only made the situation worse, but I really don’t see how I could have remembered that when in reality I could have used an exorcist for my child.

I DID remember though that this kid effing LOVES balloons. So I figure I’ll go borrow one from the floral department to keep her distracted for the rest of the trip. They didn’t have your standard mylar balloons on strings, only the miniature ones on a plastic stick. FINE. They had a Belle “princess” one – SCORE. Abby couldn’t have been more elated. She started rubbing it on her head and was happy as a clam.

I make it through the rest of the store without issue for the most part. I get to the second to last aisle, only water jugs and a 12-pack of Coke to go, and the worst thing in the history of grocery trips happens.

The balloon pops.

Abby looks at me yelling “BUUUUT! Mama! Broke! BUUUT!” (buuuut is how she says balloon), while shoving the quickly deflating balloon in my face. I look at her calmly and say “It’s broken, honey. Mama can’t fix it. It’s still pretty though!” And then Damien throws it in my face and hits me. I start muttering “serenity now” over and over again, grab my final items and think to myself I just have to check out and this will be over. Ten more minutes and this will be over.

I turn the corner to get into a checkout line and see four lanes open and they’re all about six people deep.

I bite my lip to avoid my own personal meltdown and get in line. Abby starts yelling “MAMA! UP! MAMA! WALK! DOWN! MAMA!” because she ‘s sick of being in the cart and probably wants someone else for a mom at this point. To avoid putting on another performance of the Abby Show, I let her down but ask her to hold my hand, which she does for a whopping 3 seconds before she takes off. I run after her, pick her up and bring her to the cart and she bites me. This is when the tears start welling up in my eyes because now I probably have the devil venom she so clearly is the carrier of. Also my child just bit me in front of the whole grocery store.

We finally get to the front of the line where I unload my groceries on the conveyor belt and hand the clerk the deflated and now totally mangled balloon. He says “Oh dear, what happened here?” and I tell him that my child destroyed it, but I’m glad to pay him for it. He gets all kind and says that’s not necessary, to which I reply “I will gladly pay for that thing, because the 20 minutes of silence it bought me was priceless.” I hand Abby the reciept for the groceries to keep her occupied (which she promptly threw on the floor) and we left the grocery store.

Serenity now.

**Disclaimer: My daughter is more times than not totally awesome and sweet and the greatest kid on the planet. I write this more so as a demonstration that the “Terrible Two’s” is SUCH AN EFFING LIE.

**She was back to her sweet self today.



Oh, hey. Guess what?

Posted 01 Apr 2011 — by Mrs. Jenna
Category baby business, I am awesome, not so much



(just kidding. april fools!)

Just keeping it real.

Posted 02 Feb 2011 — by Mrs. Jenna
Category Abigail, baby business, motherhood, The Hubs

I’m writing this post to serve as a reminder, mostly to myself, that I typically take this motherhood gig with a grain of salt. Abby is a really, REALLY easy kid. We rarely have any major issues or crazy stories to tell. Then there’s nights like tonight, that can be described as nothing short of a comedy of errors.

The hubs was running Abby’s bath, I was in the kitchen getting ready to do dishes. Abby’s been in the tub for a little bit when I hear, “uh… Jenna? Can you come in here?” I’m expecting a funny Abby trick or to grab a washcloth.

I get in the bathroom to find Abby standing on the bath rug naked, the tub with stuff floating in it. My first instinct is that she finally pooped in the tub (something I’ve been weirdly expecting for a while), but the hubs explains differently; Abby’s new hobby is sticking her open mouth in the water and getting water in her mouth. Something I’d like her to stop doing, but you try telling a 1 year old not to do something. Tonight is no different, and she does the same, except this time she gets a mouthful of water. And chokes.

She starts choking and gagging, coughing the water up and suddenly starts barfing her lunch (not her dinner, HER LUNCH) into the tub. The hubs pulls her out of the barf bath and stands her on the rug, where she immediately commences pissing all over.

I walk in to find a tub full of half chewed hotdog pieces and a really wet bathmat. Abby is squealing “BATTTHHH! BATTHHH!” because she wants to get back in (gross) having not been impacted AT ALL by just barfing and peeing within a minute of each other…and the hubs is just standing there, half laughing and half shell-shocked at what a complete fail this bath has become.

The water drains out, I fish all the hotdog pieces out of the tub with a paper towel, rinse it and all the toys off, and we start filling it again. Except now there is no hot water. We filled the tub and the sink up at the same time 10 minutes before, and apparently have a five gallon water heater.

So, there is no hot water for another “BAATTTHHHH!!!,” or to wash the piss out of the rug.

And this, friends is what parenthood is all about. May I never forget.

For a quick sleep training update – Abby cries when she knows she’s about to be laid down to sleep, but the minute she’s in her crib she’s quiet and sleep within seconds. It’s been going really well. My parents will be in town starting tomorrow, so we’ll see if that has any affect on her nighttime routine. (They are staying at a hotel, so I don’t expect too much of an issue.)