As much of a social media gal I try to be, there is one beast that I just don't identify with.
Do I just not "get" it? What is "it?" WHO ARE ALL THESE PEOPLE?!?
And then I had an epiphany. One that only someone who spends a decent amount of time around a toddler can have. My baby Twitters.
Case in point.
"I'm sitting on the potty, Mommy."
"Let's go to the park, Mommy."
"I'm going to not listen to you, Mommy."
"What does 'ouch' mean, Mommy?"
I could SERIOUSLY go on for hours... and A-girl DOES go on for hours. In fact, all day, every day it's a constant running informative list of what she's doing/thinking/wanting/seeing/eating/excreting. Take away the "Mommy" at the end of those sentences, and it's a bona fideTwitter feed.
This is where my inability to "get it" comes from. A- I already tune out half of what she says, and she's my offspring. Why do I need to have the same info on people I barely know? And B- It feels like just another social media platform to get all excited about, and then eventually neglect. Don't really need the guilt.
It's estimated that there are over 14 million Twitter accounts, with about 3 million posts per day.
So what am I missing? Do you "tweet?" Am I lame? (Don't answer that last one :)
I'm sure many of you have been lying awake at night wondering, 'Where has A-girl been? I haven't seen her on the awesome Braunalicious blog lately.' And then you tossed and turned and got up to check your blog roll just in case, but there was no update to be found.
Now that I've finally charged my camera, here is an unabashed photo share of the A-girl.
This was originally how we were going to announce the new baby, but the other story was just too darn cute.
She calls him, "Huto." And couldn't take her eyes off his awesomeness.
Again with the love and the no being able to take her eyes off Jessie.
There you have it. A-girl is growing like a weed, and looking more like a toddler than a baby by the minute. She also talks INCESSENTLY- there's a whole post about that coming soon.
And now, as A-girl says before she heads off to bed, "Feet dreams."
It's a question I've been asking myself a lot lately.
It all comes down to what I allow myself to ingest through my eyes and ears. I'm not talking about reality TV- you probably know me better (or have at least guessed) that I am a mild reality TV junkie. Mild, as in "fan of Keeping Up With The Kardashians, but refuse to watch Jersey Shore."
We can all agree that having a child changes you, but I had no idea that it would change my TV and literary diet as drastically as it has.
Best example- I can't watch Law & Order: ANYTHING! No SVU or Criminal Intent or Stealing Your Thunder (don't you think they should make that last one?!?) Gives me nightmares. But I still miss the doink doink.
Scrolling through the guide now has become more about avoiding emotional landmines than choosing a show. Extreme Home Makeover? How about "Extreme Hour of Crying". Anything with the words "terminally ill" or "sick child" are OUT.
This extends way beyond TV- my blog reading has changed a lot as well. I used to read two different blogs of families that lost their babies, both under the age of two. Honestly, I was captivated by how these women could endure such a ridiculously gut-wrenching loss and still have the will to live, much less blog. And while I think reading them made me a more appreciative and attentive mom, it got to a point where I couldn't stop thinking about those babies, and feel selfish that I still had my baby with me.
So whether it's an Oprah I have to miss or a song that I take off my iPod, it's my futile attempt to fill my days with positive things. It's hard. My heart strings are still tugged at daily. What I'm finding is that instead of focusing on the lesson there is to be learned from the adversity, and I believe there always is one, that I'm obsessing about what happened, and how to NOT have it happen in my life. Not only missing the point, but also making myself crazy.
If you need me, I'll be watching C-SPAN. Or Dora.
Baby facing straight on. Head on the right, with eyes, nose and mouth and belly on the left.
So I'm pretty far along to be announcing this pregnancy, and now trying to write this post helped me realize why I've waited so long. Is there a good way to announce a pregnancy besides, "I'm pregnant!" or "I'm knocked up... but don't worry, it's on purpose!" Whether it's the preggo brain or my lack of inventiveness, that's about all I've got.
Come January 2011 the Braunalicious will become even more...licious. There. That's about as good as it's going to get. Thank goodness for A-girl and the following story to save this.
We've been talking to A-girl about the new baby since about June. At first, she just ignored us- kind of a "If I don't listen to them it's not really happening," attitude, which I totally subscribe to. Then we kept pestering her, and she's finally admitting that there's a baby to be talked about. When we ask her, "Where is the baby?" she says, "Under Mommy's skin." Swear we didn't teach her that.
Today was the BIG ultrasound where they measure everything and tell you the gender. We're having... A BABY! As in, we're not finding out whether it's a boy or a girl. More on that later.
Tonight, I wanted to take a picture of A-girl holding the ultrasound picture. I handed it to her, and asked her to hold it up so I could see it in the picture. And she said, "Right here over my heart, Mommy?" And I tearily said, "Yes, honey. Right over your heart."
What is it about Disneyland that makes it so wonderful?
SO wonderful that we'd brave it on Labor Day, only to be stuck in a line to park for almost 30 minutes stretching back to THE FREEWAY.
Yet, undeterred, we snaked through to the structure, unfolded the stroller, refolded the stroller, boarded the tram, unfolded the stroller again, let some random stranger poke through my stuff, and walked and walked and walked only to get somewhere and wait and wait and wait.
I cant tell if it's old age (snicker) or cynicism or protective motherhood that's making me question my love for this place that I have so long adored.
A-girl had a great day. She saw Goofy, Mickey, Woody, and Jessie and hugged and snapped photos with them all. (Of course, my camera wasn't charged so the pictures were all on a cell phone.) She rode Pirates and the Carousel. Ate a turkey hot dog. Marveled. Mesmerized.
Then again, she's only two.
I know that I love Dland. It's the place Mr. Braunalicious and I had our first real date. Shared the first REAL kiss during the darkened Fantasmic. Rode countless of rides holding hands and spent countless evenings chowing on clam chowder bread bowls and ice cream.
But something about today's trip just rubbed me the wrong way, and I need an intervention.
I'm thinking date night with Mr. Braunalicious. No strollers or Fantasyland, just fast rides and stroller dodging and ice cream without sharing. Staying past 10pm (gasp!) without disparraging looks from kid-less teens and skipping back to the car without a sleeping toddler in my aching arms.
Dland date night scheduled, and a rekindling of a flame of love for a place that I grew up adoring.
Get Carried Away with Carrie! Mom to two, I try to balance a marriage, career, a fiendish workout regimen and Paleo diet. I model life around the belief that "People will often forget what you said and what you did, but they will never forget how you made them feel." -Maya Angelou Read more about me here. Let's get-carried-away!
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