Elly do it

Last night wasn't a great night for me and Elly.  I picked her up from daycare, give her a hug and a kiss and she proceeds to pick up her jacket.  I go to help her put it on and she says yells "ELLY DO IT!!!!" 

Zipping her own coat

Ok fine.  So I let her put on her coat. But I was in a hurry and she was taking forever since, you know, she's two and hasn't quite master figuring out which hole to put her arm through.  So I try to help a tiny, little bit and get her going in the right direction. 

"ELLY DO IT!!!!!!!!!"

Ok. FINE!

Finally we're dressed and ready to leave. But before we can walk out the door, she has to press the button to open the door.  She has to walk out to the car on her own.  She has to climb into the car on her own and she has to get into her car seat on her own.  Because after all...

"ELLY DO IT!!!!"

We get home and she's trying to help open the door.  It's really more of a pain in my ass for her to do this, but she's screaming again.

"ELLY DO IT!!"

Time to make dinner, "ELLY DO IT!!!" (It took 15 minutes to convince her that she needed to play in her sensory bucket and not try and help me cook the taco meat.)

Time to clean up the house, "ELLY DO IT!!!" (This took an additional 25 minutes to clean up after her, but not let her know I was doing it, since “Elly do it.”)

Walk up the stairs to bath time, get the bubbles in the bath, take off clothes and try on the potty, climb into the tub...

"ELLY DO IT!!!!!"

Except she can't do it all yet.  The kid takes for FOR.FUCKING.EVER. to get things done.  Probably because she really has no actual life experience doing half these things yet.  I mean, she's only two, but she thinks she can do it all and won't accept any help. 

So here we are, in a conundrum. I'm the experienced 30-year-old know-it-all mother.  She's the stubborn and independently-minded child who won't accept help. I want things done quickly and efficiently.  I have limited time to get everything done and don't have 15 minutes while she figures out pulling her arm out of her sleeve and sticking it through the head-hole of her shirt will not equal a successful attempt at undressing herself.

Yet, here she is, all needing to do everything on her own. And I know she has to learn all of these important life skills.  I have to encourage her to learn or else I'm going to be stuck still wiping her ass when she's 30 because she still won't have figured that out. (She'll probably blame me because I never cut her hair.)

I have to take a moment and realize that her stubbornness and desire to do things on her own, learn new skills and take charge are all qualities I love about her and that I've given her. (The apple doesn’t exactly fall far from the tree.) It's this desire to learn and take on new challenges that will make her successful in life. 

I should be grateful that she is excited to help me put the soap in the dishwasher and start it.  I should be thrilled she wants to help me put the clothes in and out of the dryer. I should be happy she wants to venture on her own and learn how things work. After all, this means in a few more years I'll be able to put her to work around the house, right?

After a deep breath, a mental regroup and a few bedtime stories, I asked her to help turn out the lights for the night. I picked her up so she could reach the light switch and said, "Elly do it."

She looked at me with big eyes and said, "Momma do it." 

You're killing me kid.

I'll be on TV!

So I feel like every time I try to sit down and write something I get distracted by something shiny.  This week it's been hearing from the producers of the Nate Berkus show.  Who's Nate Berkus?  (Check the link to the left for full details) He's an interior designer who got hooked up with Oprah and ended up getting his own daytime TV show.  And I'm going to be on his show next week (well, the show tapes next week, I have no clue when the actual show will air) to get a makeover!

How in the hell did I get called for a makeover?  Well I won them over with my charm of course!

It all started with my mom being on semi-permanent vacation and not having enough to do but watch daytime TV.  She liked him on Oprah so she checked out his new show that kicked off in September with all the other new fall shows.  She then promptly texted me to tell me to apply for a makeover.

If you have read this blog, you'll know that I got out of the Navy back in November (about 6 weeks ago actually).  And I've realized since getting out (and leading up to getting out), that I suck at being a girl.  I am so used to wearing my hair pulled back all the time, not worrying about what clothes I need to wear for the day because it's the same thing every day (thank you uniform), or even having earrings to wear when I'm not in uniform.  Needless to say, I REALLY NEED A MAKEOVER!!!

So I did what my mother told me to do, and I applied.  It's a really good thing I listened to her, because last week I got a couple calls and emails from one of the show producers!  They wanted to know more about me!

Well after finding out that I'm not only fashion challenged after being militarily reformed for seven years, but that I'm also pretty darn funny they decided to move forward... to the next interview.

And the next interview was actually with Stoofy!!!!  They asked him a ton of questions about me and then they realized that he's a vet too.  And they started asking us both questions about BOTH OF US.

As it turns out, Stoofy and I are a pretty funny couple (when we're not screaming obscenities at each other.)  So it wasn't too big of a surprise this morning when I got the official call that the show is booking our travel arrangements!

So Stoofy, Elly and I are headed to NYC next week for the very first time ever to get a makeover!  (Even Stoofy is getting a makeover!  No more Carhart pants!)  I don't know whether to pluck my eyebrow (yes, eyebrow as in singular as there is only one, I just disguise it by plucking halfway between my eyes) or remove the chipped nail polish from my gnarly toes or just leave it all for them to deal with.

I have absolutely no idea what's going to happen either!  I know we're both getting makeovers, but I don't know what that entails.  I don't know if I'm getting 1-2 outfits, or if I'm coming home with a suitcase full of new things. 

All I know is I'm boarding a plane in a week with my husband and daughter looking ho-hum, and I'll be returning as a superstar!!!  (and hopefully with some makeup and clothing tips so I can recreate this when I get home!)

Wish me luck, and I'll let you know when to watch.  You never know!  My mom could be right, and this could be the next big step for Betty!!!

Elly's New Friend

So Elly has a new friend.  Actually a couple new friends.  You may be wondering how the hell does a 9 month old have so many friends?  Well, don't worry.

One is Mickey Mouse.  And not the one you and I grew up on.  This one is a digital CG animated one who sings "Hot dog, hot dog, hot diggity dog!" (The tune is actually pretty catchy.  So much so I googled the words so I could sing it right because there's nothing more annoying than making a fool out of yourself singing a children's song wrong.)

And I mean "Oh boy!" (please read that in your high-pitched Mickey Mouse voice) is the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse one of her favorite shows.  For being so young I'm worried about her watching any kind of TV, yet she seems to really enjoy MMCH so much that I find I give in to it.  That and it's sucked me in.  Disney bastards. (please read that with a gruff, annoyed mom voice.)

Her other new friend is my savior! She's Ms. B and she's Elly's care giver when Stoofy and I are at work.  I knew she was the one when Elly slobbered all over her face upon meeting her.  Not to mention that Ms. B didn't seem to mind one bit! 

Ms. B is a God send for me!  She makes my days easier since I don't have to worry about Elly every single second I'm away from her.  (And let's be honest, of course I'm going to, but the level and brain power that I use to worry is much less because of Ms. B.)

She helps me keep track of what Elly's been eating.  How much she's been sleeping (or rather, not sleeping), and just entertaining me with videos of my daughter having laughing fits at the dog! 

Ms. B even made christmas ornaments with Elly for us!  I couldn't be more pleased! 

And what's crazy about the whole situation, is that originally Elly was going to be watched by another friend of mine.  But after she found new employment (2 weeks before I started my new job), we were back to square one.  I had a minor panic attack (not that I fault my friend, but the timing was pretty fucking scary!  I'm pretty much anti-major change), but Ms. B was there to step up to the plate I like to call Ms. Bakedgood's Wild Ride!

So now she's got a total of nine friends: Mumma, Dadda, Mema, Aunt Abby, Charlie, Moxie, TT, and Mickey and now Ms. B.  I can't wait to meet her 10 month friend!

World of Wild Crafters

You know World of Warcraft? (Yeah, I don’t either. I've heard about it, but I really have no idea what it is...) Well, if you don't know about WoW, I'm almost sure you probably don't know about the WoWC!

WoWC is the World of Wild Crafters.  I know, you're thinking, how crazy could crafters be?  Other than the occasional hot glue gun accident or needle incident, there can't be too much to it, right?  WRONG!!!  The crafting world is filled with enough characters to write a spinoff of Harry Potter or Melrose Place (the original one). 

You've got your scrappbookers (they're a bunch of cutters), your cake and candy makers (they're usually my favorite because I never turn down food), floral arrangement ladies (I'm pretty sure they're all born in the spring and named April), wood workers (their slogan is "We do it against the grain"), painters and photographers (that's like a Hatfield and McCoy feud.  And the framers are stuck in the middle). 

There's the jewelry makers (who are easily distracted by all their shiny things) and the needle point girls (don't piss them off  unless you want a needle to the eye).  And don't forget the quilters out there.  (They are usually found in gangs they like to call guilds and they're like the Masons of Crafting.  Once you've made a rambling rose quilt with appliqué you reach the 33rd Degree and get a special ring.)

And then you have the knitters and crotcheter.  They're a tough crowd.  And you're usually one or the other.  No bi-craftials allowed!  (I don't consider myself bi-craftial.  Instead, I consider myself an ambassador between the two sides since I do both.) I know, I know.  You're thinking "Betty, I think you've finally cracked."  But honestly, this is serious business! 

You see, being a military spouse means you move around a lot just like your servicemember.  It's usually really hard to keep bouncing from job to job.  Not to mention the cost of day care is pretty much absurd.  So many wives find ways to keep themselves busy, and market their hobby as a means of extra income.  Shit, I'd do the same damn thing if I could.  I totally want to make money off of what I love to do, and was going to do anyway! (Isn't there a saying about if you're doing what you love then it's not really called work?)

Well, in the WoWC on a military base, you end up having many people that do very similar things.  It's inevitable.  It's not like there's one knitter or only one baker in the world.  I mean, we do live in America.  In case you didn't get the news flash, we support capitalism here (unless you're busy occupying Wall Street).

Turns out, when there's a little competition, some just can't handle it.  It's gotten so serious lately, people are starting to de-friend others!  I mean wow!  This is EXTREME!!!!  Whoever said crafters are a bunch of boring old ladies has no idea what they're talking about.  This shit is the makings of the next hit reality show!

And apparently the wives are involving the husbands as well.  When I told Stoofy about this, he scoffed. 

S: "You women find the most ridiculous things to bitch about.  You wanna know what those guys are saying? 'Dude, did your wife bitch at you when you got home? Yeah.  Me too.  Over crocheting? Yeah! FUCKING IDIOTS!'" 

When I explained this is serious business and there's now competition, he replied:

S: "Everybody's got somebody else!  McDonald's has Burger King.  PF Changs has Panda Express.  Everyone has competition.  Get over it!" (This is where I realized we’re both fat kids because we’re using food chains as an analogy.)

Me? Well everyone's got a blog in this world.  I just have to figure out what my gimmick is to keep hooking readers.  (Hahaha!  I said hooking! I'm now a pimp! You’re all my bitches!) Maybe if I can't hack it as a blogger I'll keep working on the script for my new pilot show Crochet Drama: Secrets of the WoWC.  Maybe Snooki would be available for the lead role?

Nightmares of the Working Mom

I feel like I'm living a nightmare right now.  It's weird, because so many things are positively falling into place as I get out of the Navy and transition into the real world.  Everything except one: daycare for Elly.  Now that we're all moved out of base housing and temporarily settled with Abby, the next hurdle in my life is finding full time daycare.

First of all, watching a marathon of Law and Order: SVU is really not helping my daily panic attacks when it comes to for Elly’s childcare.  (Kids getting murdered and neglected all the time.  Who the hell let me have the remote?)

And it obviously can't be just any daycare.  I have a laundry list of requirements, but when tasked with typing them all out in an ad on Sittercity. I drew a complete blank.  I think I'm actually paralyzed with fear just thinking about leaving her with a stranger.

I'm a psycho new mom.  Like I take crazy to a new level when it comes to Elly.  So I constantly picture wherever I drop her off, the lady will smile and wave, and then as soon as I'm down the street, Elly's left to crawl through glass and cigarette butts, eat the dog food, play with everything dangerous, left in her own filth and the lady that said she spoke English can't actually read any of the instructions I left.  I show up and my daughter is completely traumatized and I collapse in a heap of working-mom guilt.

Just typing this is making me cry. 

Because there isn't going to be anyone in this world that can do what I do.  Not even my own mom, but she's the next best thing! She at least keeps my daughter on a schedule.  I on the other hand have let it all go to shit.  Ok, so maybe there is at least one person in this world that can do what I do... probably because she's already raised my daughter once when she raised me.

But still....

I keep envisioning child neglect and abuse and just plain old craziness in every daycare.  And yet, I'm stuck.  We're a two income family.  It's what works for us.  (Especially in the most expensive place to live in America according to the latest census information.  I also live in the #1 wealthiest county in America.  The median income is around $89,000.  I won't be making that.)  So I have no choice but to find daycare.

I'm also a coupon clipper and deal shopper.  But this isn't exactly one of those things you become a full-on penny pincher.  Because who skimps on their child care?  If there's anything in this world that the saying "you get what you paid for" more closely describes, I'd be shocked.  Honestly.  If you're going to be paying pennies to some secret evil witch, you can't be surprised when you show up at the end of the day to pick up your kid and she's in the oven.  But on the other hand, we can't exactly afford an au pair!  Geez! We're not one of the Real Housewives of DC couples!   

Now, I know I'm making this so much worse in my head than it actually is.  I get that. 

I know I will eventually find the perfect place for Elly and it will become a second home for her.  And maybe that's what scares me just as much (if not more).  What if I find a place that's just so perfect, that she likes the babysitter more than me?  What happens if she loves her more than me because she spends all day with her and not with me?  And now I've come full circle in the working-mom guilt. 

This is why I'm living a nightmare right now.