Burning Mom

I've struggled with acne for the last decade- I admit it. I've also known and read about plenty of women who had clear skin until they became pregnant. Those hormones can make you break out like a kid in junior high. In fact, that pregnant "glow" is due to increased oil production.

Once you become a mom, extra time spent prepping in front of the mirror becomes a hassle more often than not. A few days ago, Evelyn took advantage of my cosmetic distraction by removing an old coffee filter from the garbage and scattering its contents like confetti.

So when I saw the recipe for a DIY face mask specifically for acne scars on Pinterest, I decided to give it a try. The recipe required four simple ingredients from my kitchen:

Cinnamon
Nutmeg
Honey
Lemon Juice

You only need about 1 teaspoon of each ingredient to have enough for a single application. Wash your face and apply the concoction. This might be a good time to mention that it's called "The Burning Mask." The same as it burns a cut on your finger, lemon juice has the potential to burn the sensitive skin on your face. The original directions instructions say to leave the mask on for half an hour if you can stand it, or at least 10 minutes.

When I first applied the mask, I thought, 'Psh, this doesn't hurt." Several minutes later, it hit me. Not as bad as I anticipated, but you can feel it. If you want to distract yourself from the sensation, surrender to the temptation to lick your face. It smells good; tastes awful.

When time is up, rinse your face and moisturize. Each of the mask's ingredients is supposed to have extremely beneficial properties. Immediately after rinsing, I noticed my skin was much softer and smoother. I can't say I woke up the next morning looking flawless, but I can see enough difference to encourage me to keep applying this mask once a week.

Iron Chef Mommy

I was raised by great cooks. In almost 23 years, I've never seen my mother shy away from a recipe. If she wants to make tomato basil soup from scratch for one, she'll do it. My stepmother, a vegetarian, manages to create meals that satisfy her carnivorous husband and dairy-allergic son. The last time I visited my maternal grandmother, she threw together the most delicious but simple dinners that had me passing Evelyn off to everyone else so I could keep stuffing my face.

And then there's me. For most of my life, my favorite meal was a famous blue box of noodles with unnaturally-hued, cheese-flavored powder. I tried my first egg at age 18 and still struggle to eat pretty much anything that sprouted up from the ground. Not to mention, I'm a grazer. It's a rare day that I sit down for three squares.

Enter motherhood. Now that Evie is an active toddler with a pretty regular schedule, I'm forced to prepare three meals a day for her even if I'm not hungry at all. In the process, I've learned a few things that save time and fill the baby. Win-win.

For years, I've seen my stepmom create meals with Pillsbury Crescent Roll dough that my brother devours in no time. So yesterday, I rolled slices of ham and shredded cheese into the dough and baked them into what look like teeny tiny calzones. Let's just say Evie loved them enough to toss aside her fork and start shoving fistfuls down the hatch. I suspect I could also throw some kind of shredded veggie in there too without protest.

Another way to be sneaky with vegetables and store-bought dough is to roll out individual biscuits and bake them just a little bit until they've firmed up a tad. Top with red sauce, (which you can easily enrich with pureed veggies) shredded cheese and maybe some kind of meat topping. I can't speak highly enough of turkey pepperoni. Freeze the individual pizzas and bake for your little one as needed.

One culinary staple we both love is chicken, and it's so versatile. Since we moved to our apartment, I've been buying large packages of boneless chicken breasts when they're affordable, then freezing them individually in baggies. I keep one chicken breast on hand in the fridge, and when it gets used, it's replaced by one from the freezer. One breast is typically enough to feed us both when prepared with a side dish or two. My favorite recipe:

Prepare this sauce by mixing the following ingredients:
2 tsp. minced ginger
2 tsp. minced garlic
1 tbsp. brown sugar
2 tbsp. honey
2 tbsp. hot sauce
1/4 cup (low sodium) soy sauce

Cut the raw chicken breast into bite-size pieces. Put the chicken in a pan on the stove on medium heat with a little oil. Lightly dust the chicken with salt and pepper. When it's cooked fully through and starts to brown, pour in the sauce mixture. 

At this point, I pull out enough chicken for Evie while it's only been just touched by the sauce, which is a tad on the spicy side. For grown-ups, let the sauce thicken and bubble while coating the chicken. When it's done, I recommend serving it with a side of rice and a green vegetable, like broccoli. I make the sauce in large batches, then store it in a re-purposed coffee creamer container. It's scrumptious.

These are just a couple of recipes I've come to love. Don't get me wrong. Sometimes boxed macaroni and frozen nuggets are still prepared by this mama. Luckily, Evie also enjoys some snacks that are easy to prepare ahead of time. About twice a week, I cut up an apple into bite-size pieces and toss them in a tupperware with a little lemon juice to keep them from browning. It should come as no surprise that "apple" is one of the words in my 15-month-old's lexicon.

Ultimately, I've learned that cooking, whether just for yourself or for a family, is a learned art that takes time and experimentation. Don't be discouraged by picky eaters or a small budget. Find what works and at the end of the day, bake some cookies.

Growing Pains

As much as I enjoy my walking, spinning, talking, squawking, laughing, learning toddler, I find myself yearning for the former days of her infanthood. Yes, breastfeeding was easier than formulating three square meals a day, but that's not my reason. I can't help but wish she could still be a helpless newborn every time she gets hurt. It breaks my heart.

Seeing Evelyn fall down, register the pain and howl in misery makes me wish I feel the pain for her. I hate knowing these are just the first few in a long line of boo-boos.

My daughter somehow manages to get hurt every single day. Whether it's a bump on the coffee table, a tumble on the ground or a pinched finger, I never go a day without clutching her in my arms and whispering, "It's okay, I've got you sweetheart. Mommy's so sorry you got hurt."

Recently, Evelyn has decided that she's invincible. She will grab my purse or a shopping bag and spin around our living room as fast as she can until she inevitably tumbles. Then she gets up and does it again. And again. Meanwhile, I stand in the background, hands clutched in front of my chest praying she doesn't get hurt.


Now that she can walk with no problem, Evie is eager to explore new places and movements. Every afternoon, she marches up to the front door and casually knocks as if to say, "Excuse me, anyone out there? Can you please take me for a walk? Pleeeease?!"

Once we hit the sidewalk, she becomes invincible yet again. She ignores the cars passing by and pauses to stare at ants, even if we're blocking a driveway. Luckily for my sanity, she's gotten pretty good at holding my hand the whole time.

Just this evening, Evelyn was strolling around the room, sleepy-eyed and dragging her blanket, when she abruptly tripped over the blanket, crashed into her play table and toppled onto a plastic toy bin. Immediately, a dark purple spot made itself known on her jaw. I held her so tight I thought my body might absorb her. We stayed that way with her new "Boo Boo Buddy" (thanks, Mom) pressed up to her face until the tears subsided.

I know toddlers are magnets for bumps, bruises and scrapes, but why can't my daughter be exempt? I can only hope that as she grows and learns from her experiences that the emotional pain won't be so taxing on me. I'm waiting for the day when I can see a wound on my child and think nothing other than, 'Where did I leave the neosporin?' 

Can you find the baby?

 

"P" is for "Project"

Almost one month ago, Evelyn and I moved to our new apartment. Each day since then has been a lesson in how to make our home to look and feel the way we like while managing other responsibilities simultaneously.

I realized the best way to tackle our tiny space is to take it one room/area at a time. So far, the greatest challenge has been balancing a fun, comfortable space that reflects my taste with the efficiency demanded of a single parent home.

I'm working from the front of the apartment to the back. The entryway has quickly become my favorite space. It has to serve as our dining area, and it has quickly become my "office." I've included photos of this area and some others from the "Girl Cave."

It's never really this tidy, but picture taking demanded that I temporarily shift the clutter to the coffee table. The hanging "candle chandeliers" are held up with fishing wire so they appear to be floating. My mom bought them for my bedroom when I was 13, and I've always loved them. When the candles are lit, they reflect beautiful patterns on the walls.

These "New Yorker" cover prints are from a street vendor in NYC.

The flowers are a Hobby Lobby selection. I saw a blend of reds, hot pinks and a touch of light blue in a magazine and loved the combination. It compliments our red couch well.

Our pet fish, "Bonbon." He has a place close to the front door, making him our guard betta.

Evelyn's library is quite pleasant to look at, though the books are usually scattered all over the floor.

Evie's "play zone" in the living room. It spans an entire wall but adds a whimsical feel to the room. Since we share a bedroom, her toys have to be right out front. I have plans to paint the little wood table a robin's egg blue.

Flowers even shroud the TV. This is an all-girl apartment, after all (minus the fish).



These shelves in the kitchen were a torturous endeavor. I got innumerable lessons in nail sizes and functions. Lining them up on perfectly on the wall brought forth a whole new level of neuroses for me.

I actually like our stove area. I painted the blue glass canister and hung the little white shelf. The espresso percolator is a rescue from a family friend's Goodwill pile. A little baking soda and vinegar made it an ecclectic (and usable!) piece.

Few things could make me as happy as my coffee counter first thing in the morning. I store coffee in an apothecary jar and use a repurposed formula scoop to measure it out.

Evelyn's hiding spot. Whenever it feel "too quiet," I can lean over to see her tucked between the couch and the bookshelf admiring the covers of her books.

I had to include a gratuitous shot of my current sweet indulgence. Nestle Break n' Bake mini cookies with Reese's Pieces smooshed in before they hit the oven. Yum!

I'm hoping to show off more of our apartment soon. I have big plans for making the bedroom a perfect balance between adult function and child fantasy. The living room may be a lost cause as far as decor, but it sees a lot of wear throughout the day. One step at a time!

Sweet Treat

I can't resist typing out a little post on a much-loved snack I recently discovered. They're called "Bunchkins"- tiny grapes that Evelyn loves. I can only give her about ten at a time because she shoves them all in her mouth before bothering to swallow.

A box of grapes cost $2.99 at Meijer. They're sweet, not at all tart. Just rinse and pluck them off the stem. The most tedious aspect of eating them is making sure you don't feed a teeny tiny stem to your baby. 

To give you an idea of their size, you can see that an entire bunch fits in the palm of my hand. I'm glad we decided to try these.

The Birthday Season

Last Thursday, July 5, was Evelyn's first birthday. I had mentally prepared myself for the tornado of cake, party planning and presents that would engulf my entire life. Over a week later, I feel as if we've finally recovered.

My present to Evie was this circus tent from Ikea. She loves it, and even though it's larger than I anticipated, that just means we'll get more use out of it! It also folds up to a manageable size.

On the Fourth of July, we attended a big family party at Evelyn's paternal grandparents' house in Lawrenceburg, Ky. Though I don't think I could ever bring myself to live in such a tiny town, I love visiting the tranquil, slower-paced atmosphere. "Lburg" is much quiter and easier to navigate than our hometown of "Lville." I felt I was right at home, however, when twenty-something people began filtering through the door on that sweltering afternoon.

After Evie "opened" her presents and pooped in the middle of that process, we enjoyed the feast. Naturally, the child would only eat watermelon. On a normal day, I would have kept her in the high chair until she ate something a little more substantial, but birthday week was proving to bend the rules.

The next day, her actual birthday, we returned home for a quiet night of spaghetti and beer cake with my dad, stepmom and siblings. Evie seemed happy to return to the more mellow pace that is home. I don't know if I've ever seen her so happy as she was just playing with toys in the cold, silent basement we live in affectionately dubbed the "Girl-Cave."

                                                      Evie, happily relaxing while she reads a new book.

Friday brought with it a trip to my mom's house where we ate way too much and laughed hysterically as Evelyn submerged herself in a tiny cake and then danced around the room wearing her pajamas, a tutu, a birthday hat and a flower lei as the sugar high overcame her.

Finally, we treked to Lexington on Saturday to prepare for a party with my and Roy's friends on Sunday. From this experiene I learned that if you're just having friends over, don't worry about decorations or keeping to a schedule. Just make sure the food is delicious.

Part of me can't believe I have a 1-year-old. I know this is cliche, but it seems like just yesterday I had a helpless newborn swaddled up in my arms. Now she's talking, attempting to walk and asserting her rebellious side every time I tell her not to do something by obnoxiously snapping back at me in defiance.

Now that we've survived the week-long birthday festival, I'm pouring myself into our next big project: MOVING. On the 20th, Evie and I will be relocating to our new apartment in Lexington. I couldn't be more excited to indulge my creative side in my very own space. True, the apartment is about the size of a shoebox, but that will just make the process even more interesting.

Absence and Indulgence

After yet another too-long hiatus from what was once my nearest and dearest project, I've decided to take another swing at not abandoning my blog alltogether. The writer in me needs a personal outlet for my thoughts and the mother in me needs a spot to post cute pictures of my baby. That being said, I think it's time to approach this from a different angle.

The reality of my life is that it doesn't revolve around baby talk. During my pregnancy, I remember my mom telling me that even though it then felt as if nothing besides my child would ever matter again, the world does keep turning, and there are plenty of reasons to be a part of it. As my daughter now approaches one year old, we seem to have reached a still-evolving balance. Because I have so much to say about motherhood and other subjects, I think it's time for this blog to become a forum for the many pieces that form my happy life as a young mom.

I will, of course, continue to write about the many anecdotes of my sweet baby, but I also hope to write about my favorite recipes, crafts and pasttimes. To start things off on an entertaining foot, I'm going to make this post about Evelyn's favorite foods.

While this may not immediately sound entertaining, I assure you that although she has not yet reached one year of age, Evelyn has established her impressive culinary palette already.

She ate honey baked ham at Easter and fettucine alfredo from the Cheesecake Factory. She likes Spanish rice and marinated chicken. Evie is willing to try anything you put in front of her, but like any true foodie in the making, she has her favorites.

1. Honey wheat pretzel sticks
A couple months ago, I let Evie gnaw on a pretzel stick just to see what she did with it. She devoured it. Ever since then, I keep a supply of this lightly-salted snack in my purse at all times. She loves the taste and I love that it keeps her busy for a few minutes and doesn't leave more than a couple of crumbs for me to clean up. Bonus: you can find a store brand of honey wheat pretzel sticks almost anywhere, and they're dang cheap.

2. Oscar Meyer Turkey Bacon
On another whim, I gave Baby a tiny piece of bacon a while back just to see how she reacted. As she does with most foods, she made it disappear. Opting for a healthier alternative, we have since been purchasing turkey bacon from the grocery and eating it almost every morning. Unlike pork bacon, turkey bacon isn't loaded with fat and you can cook it with just a few minutes in the microwave. I break up the more tender strips into little pieces for Evie and save the crispier parts for myself. Win-win!

3. Animal crackers
This classic snack has been a recent endeavor. Just yesterday, I bought a large, teddy bear-shaped plastic container stuffed to the brim with animal crackers, and Evie approves. Since they're not super sugary, I don't feel bad letting her have a few after dinner.

4. Gerber Graduates for Toddlers Pasta Pick-Ups
Though I rarely purchase the over-priced mini entrees sold for toddlers, I will buy these little packages of ravioli. Evie really seems to enjoy the spinach and cheese. Turkey and vegetable- not so much. They cook quickly in the microwave and travel well since they aren't refrigerated. Since she can't quite eat the whole portion yet, we save the leftovers and they reheat nicely.

5. Pineapple bits
Like many babies, my daughter is a big fan of fruit. Always a fan of apples and peaches, she sampled a slightly more acidic fruit when her tummy could handle it. Now, I buy fresh peaches and cans of crushed pineapple for her. I dice the peaches, divide them evenly into a few containers, then add the pineapple with the juice. The juice keeps it all fresh and yummy, and these mini fruit cocktails keep in the fridge for a couple weeks. We also throw watermelon into the mix on occasion.

This short list doesn't even come close to summing up the many foods that Evie enjoys. At this rate, she's on her way to becoming a true lover of all cuisine. Since I've been a lifelong picky eater, I'm hoping some of her willingness will rub off on me. I can't wait to see what she does with a birthday cake...

Rub-a-Dub Love

When I first brought Evelyn home from the hospital, I was terrified to give her a bath. Heaven forbid I got soap in her precious blue eyes or made the water too hot. Not to mention the constant concern I held for her umbilical raisin.

The first time she pooped in the tub and the world didn't end, (she was one week old) I knew we would survive bath time.

Eight months later, I have a little aqua-baby on my hands. Evie loves to splash and giggle in the tub, and afterward, we play a rousing game of stare into the blow dryer.

As a single mom, I don't always have someone to assume responsibility for the baby while I take a shower. Most days, she sits happily in her Exersaucer while I lather up, but sometimes she just won't let me go or she needs a good scrubbing just as much as I do.

On those days, I put Evie's baby tub in the shower and turn the water on like normal. While I bathe, she plays and waits for her turn. Is it a little awkward to be confined to one square foot of space in the shower? Yes. Do I care? No. Parents opt for co-bedding with their babies all the time. Why not co-shower?

If you intend to try this method of double bathing, let me offer you one sound warning: Do not pick the baby up out of their tub while you're both still showering. A wet baby is slick enough. Add to that a watered-down mommy, and you might as well be trying to pick up an eel. (No. I've never dropped her.)

While we're on the subject of bath time, I'd like to share a Must-Have!

Johnson's Head to Toe Foaming Baby Wash

We all know and love the classic Johnson's Baby Wash. I will swear by this stuff. I love the smell and the reliable gentleness. The foaming bottle, however, adds an element of convenience that any mother would adore. It can be pumped with one hand while you hold baby still with the other, and it lathers much faster and smoother than the traditional kind.

Added bonus: Once you run out, just add the classic baby wash to the bottle with some water to dilute it. It will foam up just the same. I'm a huge fan of this idea because roughly four industrial size bottles of soap were gifted to me pre-delivery. At this rate, she'll still be using baby wash in middle school.

So there you have it. Bath time may be a practical necessity, but it's also a great opportunity for mother-baby bonding and awesome soap. Without further adieu, the pictures:

Evelyn gets so excited to get in her little pink tub. She splashes like it's her job, so I usually get somewhat drenched as well.













When it's time to dry off, Evie re-familiarizes herself with her feet. She always resists when I start to put a clean diaper on her. She would rather be naked.












Finally, we switch on the blow dryer to take the edge off. She enjoys the warmth and I'm obsessed with how fluffy it makes her hair. Low power and low heat with the cord out of reach, of course.

Mommy Must Have- Practical Magic

Ever since Evelyn really became interested in toys, I've become increasingly convinced that less is more.

The toy shelves at Target are stocked with countless rows of contraptions sporting lights, screens, sounds and hardware rivaling my cell phone. Don't get me wrong- she loves those too, but they can be a little difficult to transport, operate and wash.

Cue our favorite toy ever: Fisher-Price Stack and Roll Cups.

Last year when I was going stark-raving mad on my baby registry, this simple toy caught my eye. (Probably because I'm a sucker for anything and everything arranged in rainbow order.) They have since proven to be worth their weight in gold.

Evie never seems to get sick of playing with these. She can often be found carefully selecting two cups to bang together, and we recently started playing "hide the binky" underneath a cup and letting her find it. They also came with a yellow, rattly ball, as you can see in the picture. We lost it a long time ago, but I have a feeling that if I looked hard enough under my bed, I would see that little smiley face staring back at me.

On the practical side of the spectrum, these toys are easy throw in the diaper bag to take with us. We've even broken out a few at a restaurant dinner table before. Maybe it's the bright colors or the multitude of sizes, but my daughter loves these rainbow plastic cups.

Much to my delight, I've been able to run them through the dishwasher whenever necessary, which is usually about once a week since they see so much use. They haven't lost any color, cracked or melted. All in all, I give them a very positive rating.

A Separate Peace

From Day 1, Evelyn and I have been a team.

Not long after I discovered my pregnancy back in late 2010, "I" became "we." WE want Apple Jacks for dinner. WE are too tired to walk that far. WE are about to pee in our pants. You get the idea.

Since she was born, Evie and I have been nearly inseparable. Unless I am at work, on my way to work or coming from work, she's right there with me. Part of that just comes with being a single mom. I get things like laundry and dishes accomplished while Evie is sleeping or feeding herself a bottle, and my arms have become surprisingly buff from carrying her around so much.

I can recall in great detail the episodes of separation we've had throughout her lifetime. About a week after she left the womb, my mom scooped Evie out of my arms and told me to go somewhere- anywhere- by myself for a little while. Her father dragged me to the workout room at mom's apartment complex and I walked very slowly on the treadmill for 20 minutes before power walking back to my baby.

Five months later... New Year's Eve, 2011: Evelyn's first night away from Mommy. Since I had to work late anyway, Evie stayed overnight with her father. From 5-11:30, I was chin-deep in serving people a constant flow of martinis. The closer it got to midnight, however, the closer I got to a breakdown. I missed Evie terribly, but a couple gin and tonics dulled the pain while I watched the ball drop from a nearly-vacant bar at a nearby pizza place.

All of this said, now that Evie is almost 8 months old, it stands to reason that she suffers bouts of separation anxiety. More and more often, she has begun fussing because she wants Mommy to hold her.

I understand that this may sound a bit like I'm stroking my own ego, but as much as it thrills me to know that my daughter finds great comfort in my presence, I also want her to be happy independently. I think a lot of moms have that vision of dropping their children off for that first day of daycare or preschool- the one where their chubby, Oshkosh-clad toddler clings to their leg with every last shred of fortitude while tears of misery drip from big, glossy eyes staring up at them in desperation.

Though this scenario may play out in our minds, the truth is that we all hope our children will find the balance between independence and reliance, an unspoken love for their mothers that makes us indispensable above all others.

All of these musings beg the question: how do I squelch my baby's separation anxiety while still maintaining the close and essential bond we share? Is it possible to walk that tightrope at such a young age?

For now, I'm trying to let Evie play on her own more often while I'm not in a mad rush to get a bunch of things done. She sits and fiddles with toys in her playpen while I sip coffee and read in the next room. I've found that if I only force solitude on her while I'm busy, she senses that I'm only putting her down because I have to.

Though I'm picking up on more frequent comments that my baby may be a little too attached to me, I wouldn't trade what we share for anything. I've watched the last seven months go by in the blink of an eye, so yes, I'm going to hold my baby as much as I can and let her snooze in my lap while I blog.

My Little Valentine

Not wanting to miss a moment of her first Valentine's Day, my little girl woke up at exactly 4:56 this morning. After cursing under my breath at not wanting to get out of bed, I scooped Evelyn out of her crib and we played and snuggled for three hours until she went back to sleep.

I only lost my cool once when she made a game of pinching the backs of my arms.

I've enjoyed many fleeting moments today during which I find myself undeniably happy at the face of my valentine this year. Sometimes, while I'm at work, I see a couple holding hands at the dinner table and staring contentedly into one another's eyes while they wait on their entrees. I can't help but envy them for a brief minute.

But if there's one thing that both my life and my job have taught me, it's how to appreciate reality for what it is. When I tear my eyes away from those (few and far between) happy couples, I often wonder how much of their movie-quality affection is merely a manifestation of their need to feel like a night out together must be special. Am I sounding cynical yet?

I remember very well my favorite couple to wait on. They were easily in their 70s, but wily as ever. When the woman expressed difficulty in speaking to me due to a bout with laryngitis, I took her dinner order and suggested a cup of soup to make her feel better. "No thanks, but I will take a Maker's on the rocks, please."

Without her noticing, the gentleman across from her smiled at her and ordered a Woodford Reserve for himself. For almost two hours, they sipped bourbon and took nibbles of food off the other's plate. Seeing their level of comfort with one another as if they knew no other way to live made me enjoy being their server, and not just because they left a generous tip.

I feel that comfort with my daughter. And that's why she's my valentine. Memories from before she arrived are now hazy and incomplete. The times when I find myself frustrated by her are quickly eclipsed when she coos or brushes my face with her tiny cherub hand.

This very moment, Evie is deeply immersed in baby dreamland while she sleeps in my lap. My valentine gift to her was a tiny pot of Forget-Me-Nots that I'm hoping to grow in the window. I don't have to ask her to "Be Mine." She already is, and I am hers.

Back in the Saddle

In the last two months, I have mentally noted, "Today, I will blog" so many times that if I added up the time spent making that promise to myself, I could have written at least three posts. So after a two-month break/hiatus/manifestation of my procrastination, I'm happy to say that I'm back to blogging with more fervency than ever. As you may have noticed, I revamped the template this morning, (still not happy with it). I'm going to have to get my tech-savvy 12-year-old brother to help me get the background I really want...

I'm finding it rather disgraceful that my daughter is roughly 40% older than the last time I wrote. Now that my guilt is laid bare, I'm happy to report that she is amazing me more and more every day. She can now:

• Eat baby food! (I have lots to say about that.)
• Pull herself up from a sitting position.
• Not quite crawl, but rather scoot backwards and rotate herself.
• Sit on her own.
• Babble emphatically, much the same as I do.

As I type, Evelyn is perched on my lap watching my fingers swiftly peck the keyboard. Every 30 seconds or so, she throws her pacifier on the floor only to stare up at me with a look that says, "You gonna get that?" If I decline her unspoken request, she resorts to tugging at my shirt sleeve and stuffing as much of it as possible into her tiny trap.

Such is my life as a mother to a 7-month-old.

Back in December, I wrote a post about what happens to your hair post-pregnancy. (If you don't remember, it falls out!) You may find it entertaining to know that where I underwent a massive shedding episode last year, my hair has begun to regrow. Now I find myself with about 85% shoulder-length locks and 15% mousy-brown, inch-long peach fuzz that resembles Evie's hairstyle a little too much.

Though we're already halfway through February, I would like to make a new year's resolution here and now to get back to basics with this blog, aka actually writing on it. I started this collection of thoughts and experiences so that down the road, I would have a detailed account of my daughter's early life to share with her.

I'm not about to give up on that.

Blah Blah Blah

Lately, I've been more reassured than ever that my daughter is going to be like me. Why, you may ask? Because she loves to talk.

For weeks now, Evie has become increasingly vocal while she discovers new sounds and volumes.

Her journey into the exciting world of babbling began with raspberries- short, slobbery bursts of air between her lips. Over and over and over.

Next we moved up to yelling. No, not upset yelling, just yelling. It seemed as though she just wanted to see how loud her voice could possibly get. And so, for a couple weeks, out of nowhere she would say, "Aaaaaaaauuuuuuugggghhhhhh!!!" Obviously this time period involved a lot of me sprinting from room to room to make sure she wasn't hurt or unhappy only to find her calmly staring up at me with an air of deviousness in her face.

Once she discovered volume control, or lack thereof, Evelyn moved on to screeching. When Thanksgiving rolled around, my poor grandfather had to turn down his hearing aid a bit so my daughter wouldn't shatter his ear drums.

Finally, Evie started gargling. From a reclining position, she gathers enough spit in her mouth to gargle it. It may sound gross, but trust me when I say it's hilarious. If you've had children before, you understand how many extra loads of laundry I'm doing just because everything gets covered in baby spit. If you haven't had children yet, brace yourself and your washing machine.

Currently, Evelyn enjoys making a combination of all these sounds- raspberries, yells, screeches and gurgles. But just yesterday, we reached a monumental milestone: The First Tooth. And yes, I write it with caps because it's just that important to me. So now, my Peanut is constantly searching for things to stuff in her mouth to gnaw on.

This includes, but is not limited to toys, stuffed animals, blankets, pillows, any article of clothing but especially socks (clean, obviously), mommy's shoulder, mommy's shirt, mommy's fingers, mommy's jacket, mommy's hair, the straps on mommy's purse, the plastic part of her pacifiers, towels, bibs and her own fingers.

The only thing Evie doesn't seem to want to teethe on is her teether! Every time I give it to her, she scowls and only tries to suck on it.

As you can plainly tell, I spend a lot of time focused on my daughter's little gob. Given the extra loads of laundry and toys necessary to appease her oral fixation, in Evelyn's case, talk is not cheap.

Hairy Situation

For months, I blogged about the symptoms and side effects of pregnancy, but anyone who has given birth before knows that the changes to the maternal body continue long after baby has left the building.

One of my favorite hormonal indulgences of pregnancy was the full head of luscious locks. Since I was a little girl, I've had a fine, stringy mop of blonde hair. Pregnancy, however, brought with a sense of fullness not only to my figure, but also to my mane.

You can imagine my annoyance, then, when I found myself with fistfuls of my own hair wrapped around my fingers every time I took a shower. Slowly but surely, that extra fullness was disappearing.

Here's how it works: At any given time, approximately 90% of your hair is in a growing phase while the remaining 10% enters a resting phase before eventually falling out. During pregnancy, hormone levels cause a greater percentage of hairs to enter the resting phase without falling out. When hormone levels return to normal post-partum, those rested hairs bid adieu to the scalp, causing what appears to be excessive shedding.

So really, it's just those damn hormones messing with me some more. You would think Mother Nature would be a bit kinder to someone who shoved a bowling ball through their birth canal. But no.

Shampooing has become a tedious exercise since I'm trying not to go bald. Mousse has become a must. It doesn't help that Evelyn enjoys pulling at chunks of my hair when she can get her chubby fingers on it.

If you're anything like me and find yourself plagued by lost hairs that cling to your clothes, drain and baby, here are my tips:

• Common sense: Be gentle with your hair. Wash and rinse gingerly without getting your fingers all caught up in it. When it's time to brush, don't use a fine tooth comb unless you want to pick the hairs out of it later.


• DO NOT sleep with your hair in a ponytail. At night, let your poor follicles rest without elastic tugging at them.


• Keep taking your prenatal vitamins.


• Buy some mousse to add fullness and body.


• Get a trim. I cut off about eight inches of my hair when Evie was about six weeks old so my hair wouldn't look stringy.

At the end of the day, there's not much you can do about those crazy hormones except be grateful that they helped you create a sweet little baby. I'm just praying that Evelyn and I won't be sporting matching hairstyles of nothing more than peach fuzz any time soon.

Sock It To Me

I found myself contemplating what to write about for this week's Mommy Must-Have yesterday while I was getting Evie dressed. As I looked at her bare feet and instinctively reached for my favorite accoutrement to cover her little tootsies, it hit me.

I have been in love with these socks from trumpettetoo (yes, it's lowercased) ever since I got them as a gift. When I first saw them in the box, I fell in love with their obvious cuteness, but now I realize how practical they are!

At first glance, most people don't realize that Evie is not, in fact, wearing real shoes. Once they do catch on, I almost always hear, "Those are precious!"

Yes, yes. They're adorable. But allow me to tell you why I really love them...

For a long time now, Evelyn has enjoyed standing with help from someone propping her up. Shoes confuse her. They make her clumsier and less balanced than she already is. Socks, however, keep her warm without making her feel like she's got straight jackets on her feet.

Though babies are typically exempt from the "No shirt, no shoes, no service" rule, there are occasions that demand a sense of dressiness. These socks are the best of both worlds. Look good; feel good. I've layered them over tights and paired them with jeans. They're perfect for church or a dinner outing.

Because I received these socks as a gift, I didn't know where they even came from until I Googled them. Not surprising, they come from Target. A pack of three costs $8, and they also have plenty of styles for both boys and girls. I would recommend them for the classic Practical Mom/Stylish Baby duo.

The Cold War

Needless to say, Evelyn and I have a lot of close contact. If she drools, it ends up on my shirt. If she poops, I wipe her butt. So it only makes sense that if Evie sneezes, there's a good chance she did so all over my face.

This is how I caught a cold.

Four days ago, Evie woke up with a stuffy nose. I gingerly wiped it for her and went on with the day occasionally wiping a boogie or two from her sweet face. But that night, I felt the telltale tickle in my throat that said, "Congratulations, Mama. You and baby are sharing a cold!"

For the last few days, Evie and I have been sneezing, coughing and groaning through the Thanksgiving holiday. Don't get me wrong, we had a great time with family and food, but it wasn't without a zillion tissues and regular forehead checks for fevers.

Thankfully, I was worse off between the two of us. We both, however, shared matching diminished appetites and bright red noses.

As with everything else, the world did not stop turning until baby and I recovered. With tissues in my pockets and Sudafed in my bloodstream, I trudged forth to shift after shift at work while Evie continued with her taxing life of eating, pooping and sleeping.

The worst thing about taking care of an under-the-weather baby? The treatment. Since Evie can't share Dayquil with me, the most I could do for her was to suck out her snot with a suction bulb and wipe her face. If you've ever had a baby, you know they don't enjoy this.

As of this moment, the Peanut and I are almost fully recovered. While I ponder what ailments await us in the future, I can't help but giggle every time I hear a boogery snort from Evie's crib while she sleeps.

Mommy Must-Haves!

Young mothers- any mothers, really- form an intricate network of communication. It doesn't matter if you've never met someone in your entire life; if you have the same stroller, it's a basis for conversation.

That being said, the most frequented topic of chit-chat is consumerism. And why wouldn't it be? One study found that new mothers spend approximately $7,000 by the time their child reaches his or her first birthday. Which brings me to my point...

A lot of people ask me which baby products are Must-Haves and why. Because I often repeat the same speeches over and over, I thought I would turn it into a new blog segment, especially since I'm trying to get back in the habit of writing more.

With that, I present to you my first Mommy Must-Have:

This charming rainbow of plastic is called the "Ring O Links," made by Sassy. When I first created my baby registry, I made sure to put plenty of lower-priced items on the list. But when I pulled these out of a bag at my baby shower, they might as well have been a baby flat-screen TV. Call it a sixth sense, but I knew they would make an awesome toy.

Evelyn loves these little rings. Every time she sees them, she reacts as if they are brand new. I have a feelings she loves the spectrum of colors, and unlike some of her other toys, these are small enough to fit perfectly in her tiny grip.

The ring comes with eight links total, and they have different textures: smooth, bumps and ridges. Evie gets to feel the different sensations every time she picks them up. Additionally, the black stripes on the main ring are rubbery, making it easier to hold if baby wants to grab the whole thing and wave it around. (She does.)

Mommy loves these because they are, in a word, easy. I can throw them in my purse or the diaper bag. I can link each ring together to make a chain and hang it from just about anywhere, (great for car rides). If they get dropped or dirty, no problem. Just throw them in the dishwasher. The best thing of all is the price tag, only $2.99. We take these everywhere because if they get lost, it's no big deal to replace them.

When it comes to baby toys, I subscribe to the theory of keeping it cheap and simple. If she's anything like me, Evie will only want to play with boxes and pots by the time she can walk. In the meantime, I think I've found the missing link! ;)

Becoming "Mom"

Today is November 15, 2011. One year ago today was the first full day I spent with the understanding that my life was no longer a solo act.

Shortly after dinner time on November 14, 2010, I found myself squating over a stick in a less-than-clean bathroom. I remember saying out loud, "Please. Please." I can't be sure what I was praying for as the results slowly flooded over the pregnancy test. I know I wasn't necessarily wishing for any particular outcome, but rather that everything would be ok- that I would be ok.

And then, it appeared: A tiny blue plus sign in the window. For the briefest moment, the world stopped spinning while my life palpably changed forever. I stared at that plus sign as if it might start speaking to me any second before I quietly tiptoed out of the bathroom as if silence might help.

One year ago today, I woke up at 6 a.m. and waited for the University of Kentucky's Student Health Services to open so I could make an appointment, even though their phone lines weren't active until 9. They say the darkest part of the night is just before dawn, and I laid there in that darkness while crushing amounts of terror and excitement washed over me all at once. I remember those passing hours as if they were only this morning.

Finally, I made my way to Student Health only to pee in a cup and have someone walk up and say, "You're definitely pregnant." A kind, but stern middle-aged woman then sat me down in her office and handed me paper after paper on my different options before she pulled out a plastic model of the female reproductive system and explained exactly how an abortion works. Only a moment later, she explained to me what I need to look for in a prenatal vitamin and it hit me- This woman probably sees panicked, young, pregnant students all the time. It's her job to present every option and show no bias whatsoever.

I walked back out into that crisp, Fall day with my tiny hands clutching a fistful of papers and a new outlook on the world.

Though the fear was overwhelming, it was also the least alone I have ever felt in my life. There I was, still the same feisty, outgoing little fireball on the outside, no different from the day before. But on the inside, I held the most precious little secret I could ever have imagined. Every day from then on was a team effort within my body. I housed and nourished that little peanut, and in return she offered me the most sincere form of comfort.

One year ago today, when I was just over one month pregnant, I discovered that I would be a mother. At that time, my daughter was a tiny ball of cells, tissue and an inaudible heartbeat. Now, she's sleeping in her crib across the room from me. I can't even fathom where I'll be in another year...

All the Single Ladies

Allow me to provide you with a piece of little-known knowledge: Single parenthood is tough.

As I'm sure you're well aware, daylight savings time recently gave us an extra hour. By "us," I mean anyone who doesn't have an infant.

Evelyn gets tired at the same time every night these days. She's almost always fast asleep in her crib by 10:30. I, being the night owl that I am, force myself to put away the laptop around 1 or 2 a.m. Evie then wakes up at 6:30 to eat, and if I'm lucky, she goes back to sleep for a couple hours.

And then daylight savings happened. Evie now dozes off around 9 and wakes up around 5:30, but I'm still retiring between 1 and 2. So every morning for the last week, I've been squinting my eyes open and searching the room for even a glimmer of sunlight while my daughter howls for breakfast.

Without fail, I always look around me to see if someone- anyone- will grant my truest wish and take care of Evie's pre-dawn demands for me. And without fail, no one magically appears.

Such is the plight of a single parent. Sure, there are plenty of people who want to help me with Evie, but you can never go through the day assuming that anyone will help you. You start and stop the waking hour under the pretense that it's all on you.

Luckily for me, I have an amazing, helpful family who has given me more than I could ask for. I wonder, then, if it's the mere characteristic of being a single parent that feels so overwhelming?

I will say this in praise of singledom: Every day is a girls day. Our room glows with shades of purple. We don't have to share the closet. Every morning, I savor the peaceful moments of solitude with my daughter. Every night, we say her prayers and lay her down to sleep before I go watch my guilty pleasures on television.

So here I am, at 12:17 a.m. I've got at least another hour in me, but as I write this I can hear Evie turning her dream-filled head from side to side as if to remind me that not only is she in the room, but breakfast is in five short hours.

Birthday Girls

Today was my 22nd birthday. Woo hoo.

One year ago today, I was housing a tiny sprout of a baby in my belly and had no idea. In fact, I still had three and a half weeks before I would even suspect a thing. I can't even begin to describe how drastically my life has changed in one year.

This time last year, I was tossing back Irish car bombs and shots of vodka. Today I enjoyed homemade pasta sauce with spinach ravioli, (and maybe a couple of peach mango martinis).

This time last year I put on four-inch heels to go out on the town. Today I wore a long-sleeved raglan that got covered in drool and some brand new fuzzy socks, courtesy of my grandmother.

This time last year, I celebrated my birthday with friends who wanted nothing more than to watch me pour liquor down my throat. Today I took care of my daughter, the same as I have for the last three and a half months.

When I woke up this morning and looked over at Evie, her face didn't say, "Happy Birthday, Mom!" Instead, she whined and squirmed until I shoved a boob in her mouth. She cried in the car while we ran errands. She pooped in her diaper while I was eating cake. She even slobbered on my face when I held her up above my head. In short, Evelyn did not care that today was my birthday.

Unlike other days, however, she stayed quiet while I ate my dinner, happily glaring at a muted episode of Spongebob on TV. Trust me, this is a wonderful birthday gift. Normally I have to choke down a bowl of cereal for dinner while Evie threatens to fuss any second.

Believe me when I say that I am happy to be a whole year away from my former life. Evie has made my life so much better, so much more rewarding, and no number of vodka shots could numb me into the bliss I feel every time she smiles her big gummy grin.

You could say that Evie was a birthday surprise from last year. Today I held her and knew with all certainty that she was the greatest gift I could ever receive, even if she does slobber on my face.