Beanie Weenie. She went to the bars with us last night.

Not really. Actually, we had book club at the Bonnlair and I took Beanie because she was with me. I had 2 sprites. Which is horrible, because they are loaded with sugar. But it was either sprite or diet coke, because they didn't have nonalky beers and I felt like a freak for wanting to order tap water.

I miss beer. But I cannot fathom the potential wreckage of my baby's liver if I were to say, drink a beer, nurse her, and then give her baby tylenol for her teething. It's too much for a little tyke. And I can't afford to fix her if she breaks, so I will keep away from the booze. But I can't say that I like the fact that I plan on doing that. Once she's weaned, I'm on the beer again. Sure, I drink it at night after she's asleep, because she won't wake up again to breastfeed for awhile. But I can't do the boob and booze and feel good about myself. I'd feel like a child abuser. And I guess I kind of would be.

I have been thinking a lot about parenting. I'm a good mommy. I know this. I'm probably better at the mommy thing than most people would be and/or are. I don't think I was born that way, but I definitely have the empathy for baby down. It's probably why I was so good working with nonverbal disabled adults. Anyone who can't speak english aloud and wears diapers, I can take great care of. It's me that is failing me.

I don't bathe that often anymore. And when I do, it's quick and to the point. I don't luxuriate in the tub. I don't have nice shower soap. Rarely do I find myself spritzed with perfume or rubbed with deodorant. I don't paint my nails. I don't floss as often as I used to. I don't even use laundry softener anymore. I scrub everything, rinse, and dry. Nothing much else happens. No plucking, no shaving, no primping at all. My hair is either dirty or clean, and no matter what, it's pulled back into two short pigtails. This is, by the way, my vision of asthetic hell.

I did force myself to buy some decent day cream with SPF 15, but only because I am getting liver spots on my face, and how icky is that? What is wrong with me...? I cannot seem to get it together to want to be "pretty" anymore. I hate that I feel that way.

This could just be because I'm a new mom who still only has the vestiges of her shit together. Or it could be (and this is terrifying to me) the way I live now. And forever.

Which means...

Hold on here...

That I'm turning into my MOM.

Jeebus strike me dead now, but that is worthy of suicide if true.

At least I have the beanie and she doesn't care how I look, but she does like her nunus clean and sanitized.

~Beanie Momma