Uterine Wars

Supermom?

Hi! It's me! Um, the super-hot former-lawyer turned super-smelly mommy blogger?  The one that pees in public showers? 

Oh, yeah, that one.

During my long absence, I have traveled 1300 miles round-trip, met Jack & Diane, formally become Shug's mother, and made the most amazing copyright infringing  iron-on underwear for Moonpie that the world has ever seen.

If you can't gird your loins with superheros when you want to, then it just isn't worth putting on your pants some days.

It's not that I have nothing to write about -- it's that there is so much to write that I don't know how to even begin.  I am still trying to process how I feel about our visit with Shug's family, and how much it changed the way I look at parenting these two little girls the government has deemed my own.  Am I better for having an open adoption?  If I am, why do I still feel like such an ass?

Oh, that's right, it's because I made illegal panties for Moonpie.  I would *love* to have purchased officially licensed Spiderman and Batman underwear for Moonpie, but the sexist marketing assholes designing children's underwear only make girl underwear in (1) pink with (2) Disney Princesses or equally vapid, anti-feminist designs on them.  I have spent two years searching for any type of underwear that would be an acceptable substitute for boy briefs.  Which is what Moonpie has been wearing since she was potty-trained. 

And just so we are clear, the problem with briefs isn't that they are boy underwear, it's the elastic.  Because of Moonpie's ichthyosis, we have to use Aquaphor twice a day, which is a petroleum based lotion.  Aquaphor eats elastic.  Briefs have large bands of elastic.  After about three months, they start to sag, and after six months they are toast.  Girl underwear has a smaller band of elastic, which for some reason holds up better long-term. 

So.  I need Moonpie to wear girl underwear.  No one will make girl underwear in size 4T with superheros on them. Ergo, I was forced to steal from DC comics and iron-on the Batman logo to my daughter's panties.

Really, I don't think there is any jury in the world that would convict me.

Other than copyright infringement, I have been busy trying to fatten Moxie (the puppy) so she can't fit through the fence and harass joggers, fatten Moonpie so her pants don't fall down, fatten Pablo (the oldest cat) so he doesn't die, and keep Shug and the other cat from stealing everyone else's food.  Shug is ENORMOUS, which I say in the most loving, motherly way possible.  She is six months and 20 lbs, to Moonpe's 38 lbs.  As soon as she learns to walk she's totally gonna be able to whip Moonpie's ass.

Baby-wrestling.  Now that is a sp0rt whose time has come.  Look for us on You Tube.

So, recap:  Shug is now my daughter.  Moonpie has illegally cool underwear.  I am still an ass.

I think that about covers it...

Hot Dogs, Corn Dogs, And Vulvular Buns

Thank you all for your book suggestions.  I went to our local library, and they ... didn't have any of them.  Surprised?

Anyway, I checked out the one book the library did have, What's The Big Secret? Talking About Sex With Girls And Boys.  I took it to my room to skim over before reading it with Moonpie, who of course found it immediately and opened it to the picture of the naked boy and girl.

So much for parental guidance.

She is fascinated with drawings of the naked children, and less interested in the actual story about how a baby is made.  Sex? BORING.  Cartoon drawing of a penis? FASCINATING.

Incidentally, is anyone else kind of weirded out that the book is drawn by Marc Brown?  As in, the cartoonist for "Arthur"?  The name didn't click with me at first, until we were reading the part about going to the bathroom and I realized that Pal was sitting beside the girl on the toilet.  This has led to Moonpie naming all of the children in the book after characters from "Arthur", which ...  led to us discussing Binky's naked winky. 

"His penis looks like a hot dog! And she has a bun!" Moonpie said, pointing to the genitalia on the drawings now known as "Binky" and "Francine."  "Why don't they just call them a 'hotdog' and a 'bun'?" she asked.  "It would be easier than 'penis' and 'vergyna'." 

The kid has a point.

Eventually the book will have to go back to the library, although the questions will not, so I have ordered It's Not The Stork from my local bookstore to have and to hold from this day forward.  I am also going to steal my mother's copy of A Child Is Born, which is how I and most of my elementary school age friends learned about sex, sneaking it out of my parent's bookshelf and reading it with a flashlight during spend-the-night parties.  Apparently the updated version has discussions of fertility treatments, which might be a good resource for those of you looking to introduce the concept of IVF to kids.

Continuing our household obsession with sex, I picked up a copy of Mary Roach's latest book, Bonk, and keep having to make up cover stories of "what's so funny?" when Moonpie hears me laughing out loud.  There was a line about sex with a corn dog and ... wow.  Seriously.  Sex has never been so bizarrely funny.  Or disturbing.  I never knew that a man could actually fit a toothbrush into his urethra, or that he would do so on purpose, or that it was a big enough problem that urology journals would devote articles to it.  If you are looking for a hilarious book full of weird facts, I can't recommend this book enough.

And now I have to go change a poopy diaper.  And read some more of Bonk. 

The Birds and the ... Lupron?

In times like these, where your attention span is waning and I realize I'm losing my audience, I really only have two options: (1) talk about my boobs, or (2) talk about sex.  Because apparently my boobs are fascinating, and sex is, well, sex.

Moonpie has recently discovered both.  Well, discovered is the incorrect word, it's not like she's a tiny Columbus sailing the uncharted waters of sexuality for her preschool class.  It's just that she recently had an epiphany that daddies are more than just the fun guy who plays tennis on the Wii and clogs the bathroom drain with hair.  She understands that men play some kind of role in creating a baby, which she previously thought just sort of happened to a woman when she grew up.

No wonder the kid wants to be a boy.

I know that I am going to have to elaborate on the male role soon.  I'm prepared to discuss in precise, clinical terms the magical creation of offspring:

"First the mommy goes to see her RE, and he gives her medicine to stimulate ovulation, then the daddy goes down the hall to the happy men's place where he deposits sperm in a cup, and the doctor takes the eggs from the mommy during a horrible procedure involving metal tools stuffed up her vagina...."

Yeah.  I'm afraid I'll give her too much information and not only end up warping her gender identity, I'll push her towards celibacy and Scientology.

So.  Any recommendations of books to introduce sex to a four-year old?  Other than the Joy of Sex?

Fast and Dirty*

If you are going to Kazapalooza next weekend and hoping to see me, I owe you a tremendous apology.  We got word that Shug's court date to finalize her adoption was going to be in June, which meant we had to bow out of the trip due to D's call schedule.  I really do want to meet other Kazakh adoptive families, and am bummed that we won't be getting over there this trip.  Maybe next year...

Oh, that reminds me, has anyone else paid attention to the insanity brewing in Kazakhstan lately?

Speaking of Shug's adoption, we are in need of suggestions of fun indoor things we can do with Moonpie in the scorching Texas summer heat.  Any family/kid friendly places you can recommend where we can sit with Jack and Diane while Moonpie plays? 

* The post. Not me.  Took a bath this week, thank you very much.  Although I probably have to concede the fast part....

Dear Internets:

Shug is napping, Moonpie is at school, I have not yet showered, and I have to be at the dentist in fifty-three minutes.  So, of course, I've decided to sit down and write for you, because you are that special to me.  And, frankly, hygiene is overrated.

I was in the kitchen cooking two days ago and suddenly heard Shug laughing hysterically from her baby swing.  I peeked around the corner (yes, American Academy of Pediatrics, I not only let the child sit in her swing for more than thirty minutes a day, I leave her unattended in it while I take care of the rest of the family. SUCK IT.) and saw ... Moonpie in police garb, threatening Shug with a billy club, while Shug giggled in HANDCUFFS.

So I grabbed my cellphone and tried to get a quick video clip to send to Diane.  Dinner was beginning to burn, so I hit send on the clip and dashed back to the kitchen.  The next morning I went to watch the clip, and it consisted of a five second view of Shug while Moonpie yelled "YOU SUCK" in the background.

Open adoption FAIL.

Actually, I am really loving the whole open adoption thing.  A friend asked me recently if it isn't hard emotionally, and you know what? It isn't.  Jack and Diane aren't my friends, they are family. They are Shug's family, and by extension they are mine.  It's a different dynamic than it would be if we were just friends -- I can't just toss them aside if we develop different musical tastes, or disagree on politics.  We are joined by her birth, and that makes it a deeper bond than I expected.  Before we had kids, it was all about how I felt and my insecurities and my desire to have kids.  And now it is all about the kids, not me.

Oh my God, I think I grew up.

Seriously, I smell, I'm going to have to go get a bath before Shug wakes up.  Thank you to everyone who has ordered things off Etsy for my fund raiser.  I currently have an order for THREE aprons (hurray!) and as soon as I finish them I'll make aprons available again.  I didn't know they would be so popular!  I'll have to go buy more fabric...  I do have some more photos to offer, I just haven't gotten a free minute to do so.  Several people have generously offered their photographs or handmade items to help with the fund raising, so there will be some cool things coming soon. 

-- Soper, who is really quite smelly and must dash now.

My Heart Is Too Small To Contain It All

This is going to have to be quick and dirty, as Shug is asleep and I don't know how much longer I have before she wakes up and insists I strap her to my body and lug all sixteen pounds of her around the house as I pick up behind Moonpie and wipe lotion off the furniture.

How is it that a four year old who knows exactly what happened on every single episode of Curious George and can reenact, with costumes and staging, the fight scene between Obi Wan and Darth Vadar in the first Star Wars cannot remember to flush the toilet and put her dirty clothes in the laundry basket, not beside it?

Tomorrow, the day before Mother's Day,  is Birth Mother's Day.  It was started by a group of Seattle birthmothers in 1990, and is now celebrated throughout the country. 

I'm not sure how I feel about that.

I get that birth mothers/first mothers feel marginalized, and that Mother's Day is hard for them.  Hell, Mother's Day is hard for me, too, even here on the other side of adoption.  When you suffer with infertility, Mother's Day is a huge, gaping reminder on the calendar that your body is failing you. 

When you miscarry, you are already a mother in your heart, but no one sends you a card on Mother's Day.  Ditto when you place a child for adoption.  The loss is very, very real, the suffering silent.

So why don't we just recognize all mothers on the same day?  Or, for that matter, just get rid of the damn holiday...

What do you think?

Yes, I *Am* An Ass

Yesterday I helped host a wedding shower for a family friend.  During the shower, I stood to the side catching up with a lady I haven't seen in a while.  We somehow got into a fairly graphic discussion about the size of our butts...

until we realized that we were standing right next to the video camera.

Now the blushing bride can hear all about my posterior for posterity. 

I've reduced the price of the photographs on Etsy to $10 each.  I would rather sell 60 prints at $10 each than no prints at $20, so please, order one!  Help the children!  Help my blender!  We are totally dependent on you and your decision to give!

Do you feel guilty yet?  Just wait 'til I upload the pictures of collodion babies and kids who are so severely affected that they look burned.  PLEASE.  Ten dollars.  Three minutes of your time.  You can make a huge difference in the lives of my kid and her friends. 

Up next:  Drawing a distinction between "Mother's Day" and "Birthmother's Day"

************************

EDIT:  Ok, ok, I'll ship internationally! In order to maximize the amount going to F.I.R.S.T., I am now shipping by USPS First Class Mail.  This may mean it takes a looooong time for you to get your order, but it's the only way to keep the funds from being eaten up by fees.  If you want to maximize the amount you are donating, please give directly to F.I.R.S.T. here, email me, and tell me what item you want. I'll be happy to do a custom order for you!

FUNDRAISING TIME!!!

Thanks to my darling husband who took off work after surgery today so I could get things done, I finally have my Etsy shop set up and running! 

For those of you who are new, or who have early onset dementia and just can't remember what is going on, Moonpie was born with a rare skin disorder called "Non-Bullous Congenital Ichthyosiform Erythroderma" (say that ten times fast!).  It is a form of Ichthyosis, a family of skin conditions that are characterized by dry, flaking, itchy skin. 

Because Ichthyosis is rare, we are dependent on grassroots fund raising to seek new treatments (and, hopefully, one day an effective gene therapy).  Last year my blog readers reached out and donated $725!  Internationally, the grassroots fund raisers raised over $30,000 last year. 

This year, I decided to give you something in return for your donation.  A self-admitted Etsy addict, I have finally succumbed and created my own store.  I am going to rotate some of my photographs and custom-order kid/infant items through the coming months, so check in often!   I have tons of fun projects planned, like soft texture books, kid aprons, and super absorbent baby bibs. 

So please, CLICK HERE to shop my store!

For now I am only shipping to U.S. residents, because I am not sure how much shipping internationally would eat into the funds being raised.  If you would like to make a tax deductible contribution directly to the Ichthyosis Foundation, you can CLICK HERE.  If you decide to donate directly to the Foundation, please email me or mark your donation in honor of "Soper's Moonpie."  That helps me keep track of how much I am raising.

As always, I thank you, Moonpie thanks you, and my blender thanks you.

 

Because I Don't Have Time To Explain It All

Stupidest move of the past week (you choose):

• Setting up credit card to auto pay, forgetting, logging in to pay manually and paying twice.
• Falling down the stairs (again) STONE COLD SOBER.
• Letting Moonpie "help" in the yard on an 80+ degree day and not noticing she is wearing velvet pants

Created on Apr 27, 2009

View Results

poll by twiigs.com

Laundry Fail

MOONPIE:  Mommy, where is my blue shirt with the pockets and the bubbles that Libby got me?

SOPER: It's in the wash. You've worn it every day for a week.  Yesterday you built a swamp, played in the mud, and rolled in the grass in it.

MOONPIE:  Mommy! I have to tell you something.

SOPER:  (walks into Moonpie's room, sees her wearing the stained, gross shirt)

MOONPIE:  (grinning) Did you know that you can wear something even though it's dirty?!

SOPER:  (gives stern mom stare)

MOONPIE: (holding hands out innocently)  I just want to be gross like daddy! I like to wear the same thing every day,  just like him!

(Seriously busy over here.  Just a quick vignette so you won't think I am dead. Or kidnapped by aliens. Or peeing in the gym shower. Again.)