Names and Faces

As soon as she could voice an opinion, Gumball did.

Immediately, she renamed herself. At Disney, she was "Gator Gumball." Ride attendants and staff would call her "Princess," and my dear Gumball would scowl and say, "I'm NOT Princess. I'm Gator Gumbo!" In the absolute most offended, indignant way possible.

Now she is "Tractor Dump Truck." She recently told me that her name is actually Tractor Garbage Truck Dump Truck." Sometimes she corrects me when I call her by her given name.

Funny enough, or not, that's also what she wants to be for Halloween. A garbage truck. How do I make a garbage truck costume that my opinionated daughter will wear?

My little baby Gumball started pre-preschool this fall. She has bravely spent 12 hours a week with 9 other kids. She is the youngest in the class, and so shy and quiet. My heart breaks leaving her each day, but the time apart has been good for the both of us. I've enjoyed learning how to can, and then canning every goddamn thing in sight. Grocery shopping alone is wonderful and uplifting. On Fridays, I've even started horseback riding lessons. Riding a horse makes me feel fully alive. I love it so much.

I broke up with the nicest man ever. He cried three times in eleven dates. I couldn't take it. I felt like I had to be strong all the time, and the pressure was too much for me. I don't want a knight on a white horse. I'm not waiting to be rescued. I cannot take on that sort of responsibility. But he was awfully sweet.

The sweetest smelling man/boy ever has gone away. His absence hurts my heart. It really fucked me up when he told me that he loved me. I give my love freely, but never lightly. For him, "love" means something more like, "I think you're a cool person. Sort of. And I like you, a little bit, for the moment." I miss his smell, his backrubs, the way I felt in his arms, and the freeness I felt in his presence. But his selfish, immature ways, his childish cruelty, and his need to be with every woman he meets is just too much for me. He is toxic for me, but I miss him daily.  

Just Another Effing Growth Experience

A long time ago, in a land far, far away (no, really- I'm talking about Bolivia), a good friend of mine told me that hard times in life are "just another fucking growth experience." I'm still waiting for the effing growth to stop. Both literally and figuratively. My pre-pregnancy jeans don't fit the same way anymore, and I'm waiting for this hellacious period of personal growth to subside. The growing pains have been quite intense.

Nevertheless, here I am, starting a blog. I've never had less to say, or more.

So, let's establish a few ground rules.  I promise to not write exclusively about the baby. I will write mostly about the baby, but not entirely. I will keep this up-to-date. Mostly. As much as a single mom can. I won't complain too much, but I will be truthful.

In case you haven't tuned in lately, there have been some major changes in my life. I got married, I got pregnant (yes, in that order,) I discovered that the person I thought was my soul mate wasn't, I became a single mom, I survived. I continue to survive. I don't always feel like it, but I keep on keeping on, for the little 18 pound lady who rules my life with an iron fist, and who gives me a reason to keep on trying. Maybe someday I will get it right.

I'm going to take a cue from a friend who blogs, and not mention the sweet baby's real name. She has 100's of nicknames, from: chicken legs, rat baby, gumball and goober. I figure she can start her own blog when she wants to, but I will try to preserve some of her privacy. She is the best thing in the world. At 8 months, she has such an intense personality, it amazes me. I had no idea babies were like little adults. She adores the cat, Pumpkin. She cries when people laugh loudly. She practices new skills relentlessly. Now it's clapping. I say "good job!" and she claps and smiles. She studies her toys and either pats them or shakes them. Little ratbaby is totally into percussion. 

Being a mom has been a crazy trip so far.

Not to elicit any "Baby Boom" comparisons (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0092605/) but another reason I wanted to write this journal is to share the recipes for the amazing baby food I've been creating. Making baby food isn't something I had thought about doing, but as it turns out, I really enjoy it. Gumball has different ideas about the food I make, but tough. Mama knows best.