two things

First things first, we are flipping January the bird and telling it to go on and get on. It was blah. Not like life and death or anything, but three food poisonings (or viruses or whatever), the flu and bronchitis was more than we bargained for. We are excited to meet February 2011.

Second. Aren't new moms cute? I mean cute like baby bunnies and plentiful here lately. They have no idea what is in store for them. Please don't take this the wrong way. The Cuddler was cute like this too.

When the Cuddler and I came home from the hospital, she was all kind of cute until she was crazy. Not like she was singing spirituals and planning to dismember me or anything. Although her doctor did keep giving Morning Guy pamphlets on postpartum depression. If the Cuddler doesn't get eight solid hours of sleep, she is less than reasonable and no one told her how exhausted I was going to make her.

Not that it would matter if anyone had told her. If they did, it would be like when women share their excruciating birth stories with pregnant people. I mean what is the point of that? Once you are knocked up, the deed is done and that baby has to come out. If you are trying to deter birth, which is the only reason you would share those stories, it should be with the non-pregnant in the name of population control.

The Cuddler followed the cute new mother road map:

1. Get pregnant
2. Gestate baby
3. Have baby
4. Take baby home

It is at this point that things got iffy for us. See, before there was a fleet of nurses at our disposal. But once we got home it was just me, the Cuddler and Morning Guy. For a few days we had help from my Non, but then my Uncle Chris cut his fingers off with a saw and cut in on our help. (Don't worry, they were all reattached.) During this time, I was starving despite the Cuddler's best lactating effort, I cried constantly, the Cuddler cried about our nursing fail, I started formula, I projectile vomited at every feeding, the Cuddler got Epstein-Barr virus, and we all just barely survived my new born baby stage with our sanity.

Good times. She read a dozen books on newborns. Wasn't she cute?

Hug a new mom today and tell her the view is very different in a year.




Love, the Plum

do-gooder fatigue

My rants seem to be popular with other moms. So here is my latest. Do-gooder fatigue. Now, don't get me wrong. I want to be a decent person, I believe in God, I follow Jesus, I want to be a good example for the Plum, but honestly, who can live up to the unrealistic expectations that society is setting for mothers.

I mean the food (must be organic and no high fructose corn syrup), the exercise (fight childhood obesity!), the play dates (you want him to social, don't you?), the scrap booking (you want to remember every excruciating moment of junior's life, don't you?), making these babies siblings within two years (with cute shirts that announce it, no less), the educational toys and video (hell, if he isn't signing by a year, he is behind his peers), build their moral character at every opportunity (you don't want to raise a deviant, do you?), the nursery (it needs to be architectural digest quality).

I mean I don't remember my parents ever discussing my self esteem or my moral character or the fact that I was a fatty. The only thing that is grating on my nerves more than this over programmed, perfect embodiment of moral perfection is this crazy A lady and her self righteous rant.

On days like today, when I am sick and the Plum is teething and irritable and Morning Guy is doing what he can to hold his own, I'm just glad that none of us had a psychotic melt down, we are fed and bathed. We are going to say our prayers, take our drugs, get some sleep, and hope for a better day.

In closing, tiger lady, I don't think that you are so superior and you can kiss-it as far as this lazy, southern-fried mom is concerned.

Here is a pic of my ill-groomed baby who is drinking juice that is filled with sugar and licking pop tart off his lips. The breakfast of champions.



Love, the Cuddler

Sundays with the Plum

Excited Plum with cousin Travis.



Plum giving stank eye.



Sweet Plum giving smiles.



Devious Plum thinking of what to get into.



Love a multi-faceted Little Plum

Something to say

Ok, I think I've mentioned the Cuddler's obsession with orphans and adoptions. If you have an adoption blog, chances are that she is stalking you every step of your long and arduous journey.

After I was born, the Cuddler's heart ached at the thought of any child going through life without a loving parent. Someone to dote on them, caress their cheek, smell their hair, whisper sweet loving words to them in the middle of the night, you know, all the things she does to me. She hears God telling her to help these children. She thought she might be schizophrenic, but she and Mrs. Katie from As You Like It... have decided that while she may not be sane that she is not schizophrenic.

Back to my point, helping those in need with the most basic of needs. Diapers. Cloth diapers specifically. Can you believe that some babies do not have the bare necessities?



I can't. My participation in "Covered in Hope" may seem insignificant, but maybe it will help just one baby. We had some cloth diapers because of my sensitive skin, but there were a few brands that just didn't suite the Cuddler's taste. If you have any laying around, give it some thought!

Love, the Plum

We are still here (Part II).

Plum 0; Flu 1.

I'm losing the battle, but I will not lose the war. I had my flu shot and now I have the flu. What the heck is up with that?

Between our recent stomach virus/food poisoning episode and the flu, 2011 has not been our year.

I hear the Cuddler repeat the following to herself while we do breathing treatments:

Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance;

Romans 5:3.

We will be the most persistent bunch you have ever seen. I leave you with this picture until I feel like I have more to say.



Love, a fitful and feverish Plum

in plain sight

This little gem has been in the house for a month. I had no idea that I could have been licking it this whole time.











Caring is sharing so I shared with Addy.



Izzy preferred to lick her share off of my lips.



If you are planning on leaving any comments about dogs licking babies, don't. The Cuddler doesn't care what you have to say about it and she probably loves her dogs more than she loves you.

Love, a sugary little Plum

P.S. My friend, Mary Elizabeth, is improving. She is battling round two with meningitis so please remember her.

I say a little prayer for you...

Ok, Aretha Franklin she is not but the Cuddler is always singing this song. Actually she is singing it in the style of the gay best friend from my Best Friend's Wedding. You know the scene. It's a classic. All of this is really beside the point.

The point of this post is prayer. See, I have a buddy, Mary Elizabeth. She and I share the fabulously big head but her's had to be reshaped a little bit surgically. She is having multiple complications after her surgery and I would be so greatful and humbled if any of you could find a moment to lift Mary Elizabeth and her family up in prayer. I love them and only want the best for them.

Love, faithfilled Plum and family

Float like a butterfly...

and sting like a bee.

That's what my red bin that holds all my blocks said right before it jumped up and stung me.





My first black eye.

Love, a busted little Plum

holed up

We are warm and waiting to see what is going to happen with the weather. We are all recuperating but very slowly. We have had a relaxing and restful weekend. Here are some old pictures until I have something more substantial to say.

Me and Morning Guy at the park on the slide.



Me in the leaves.



Me hiding some of my stuff in PawPaw's cabinet.



Much Love, a frosty little Plum

We are still here.

I've been at my Non's and PawPaw's for a the last five days so I couldn't blog.

We are all still alive. It was touch and go for a while, but things are looking up. We have learned several things lately:

1. I weigh 24 pounds and 4 ounces.
2. I'm 33.25 inches tall.
3. My head is still at the 95th percentile (50 cm).
4. I'm on track developmentally for a 15 month old.

And last but not least...

5. Morning Guy is a loud thrower upper. It is like he is yelling or screaming at our toilet or something.

Love, a precious little Plum who is really glad to be home

our village.

I've heard it takes a village to raise a child. Well, I have and love my village. I was lying on our bathroom floor wishing for death and called my village at midnight. It was obvious when Morning Guy was lying in the other bathroom that we were no longer able to care for the Plum.

At midnight, I did not know if we had a virus or food poisoning. It's food poisoning. Plum has it too. My sweet Moma and Daddy came at midnight and picked up the Plum. They made multiple stops on the way back to their house to clean up a vomiting Plum and a trip to Walmart to get him Pedilyte.

My parents never questioned why they were getting up in the middle of the night to drive 45 minutes to pick up my baby. All my moma said when I said that I needed her was, "I'm on my way." Other than my daddy gagging at the Zips and threatening a "crack head" at the Walmart, they have not said one negative thing about taking care of violently ill toddler.

I can honestly say that I have never felt this bad in my life and that I could not have taken care of Plum even if he had not been sick and there is no way that I could have taken care of him once he got sick too.

We are hoping that this is not a sign of things to come for 2011. Surely things will get better from here.

Blah, the Cuddler