1 post from July 2009

Dear Kylie,

You weren't supposed to be born until today but made your entrance a month+ early because you're a punkass kid. Your dad is constantly saying "... but she wasn't even supposed to be born yet!" to excuse your punkass behavior and I'll be glad when the day is over and he won't be able to use that line anymore. You have him wrapped around your stinky little pinky and it's disgusting(ly cute).

You sleep all day and you're awake all night. Because of you, your dad and I don't get any sleep and I'm constantly walking around grouchy, exhausted, and with barf on my clothes. All of this was bearable until a week ago, when you decided that not only were you going to stay awake all night, but you were going to stay awake and cry if you weren't being held the entire time. Seriously, you need to go to sleep, or at least learn to lay in bed next to us and NOT CRY. Your Uncle Brian, aka D-Nub, suggested we rub some strong cough medicine/bourbon on your gums to "help" you sleep. D-Nub is a doctor, so I trust that his advice is sound and safe. Every night, between 2:30-4:30am, I think about pouring a shot or two down your throat to shush you up but I don't because I already clean up enough of your spit up and I don't want to have to pat your back while you heave over the toilet or buy you menudo in the morning to help with your hangover. Then I think about having a shot or two myself but your daddy talks me out of it. Apparently, some lady was arrested last week for breastfeeding while drunk. Big deal, I say, but I'm not the type of girl to enjoy a night in the slammer so eh, whatevs.

Yesterday, your face exploded with baby acne and it's pretty gross. You aren't the cute little chubbyface baby I knew and loved two days ago; you now look like an angry pre-teen in bad need of some ProActive and a chemical peel. It's taking every ounce of my willpower not to scrub your face with some clearasil. Twice, I called you Pepperoniface today and didn't even feel guilty.

You should know something about your dad- he is patient when I am not, he will stay up with you and try his best to keep you entertained and quiet when I am frustrated and want to sleep or cry alone, he is the best thing to happen to you and me. Before you, your dad had never changed a diaper, had never held a crying baby, had never wanted to seem soft in public or in front of his friends. You've changed all of that and he really is the best dad you could have hoped for. Although you're only a month old, your manly man dad has been worrying for the past week about your wedding day and whether or not he'll cry when he has to give you away. You and I are so incredibly lucky to have him, you especially because he has talked me out of dropping you off at the firestation across the street from our house more than once in the past month during one of your crying spells.

There are moments during the day, and throughout the night, where I think I can not do this, this thing where I am responsible for your every need and for helping shape the person you're supposed to become. Being your mom has been the hardest job I've ever had. I'm in over my head and I'm constantly hoping and praying that I'm not fucking you up. Please forgive me if I am; I'm trying my best. Next month I will be a better mom- I have a full month of experience now.

i love you,
your mom