Frankie loves to stand.

It's her new thing and she is VERY into it.

Usually when she stands, I put both arms up in the air and sing "YAY," but there are plenty of times when I find myself grabbing her and saying "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO."

You know those chairs that clip onto the side of the table? The ones babies and toddlers sit in while they're eating? Yeah...Frankie likes to stand while she's in it. Of course she is clipped in and the straps should hold her down--but they don't. She pushes her butt back, reaches forward and stands. It's very annoying. We, repeatedly, gently push her back down and tell her "NO," but she flat-out doesn't care. She just tries to stand back up again.

Frankie also tries to stand while I'm changing her diaper. What is that all about? I'll reach down for a dipe or for a wipey thing and the next thing I know, in a flash, she has gone from her back to her stomach while quickly pulling her legs in so she can stand. NO! Are you kidding me? You're on a changing table for *&^%'s sake! GET DOWN.

How about in the bathtub? That's my personal fave. I mean, is there a MORE dangerous place for Frankie to stand? Water, soap, shampoo and suds. Nope, no danger there. Here, let me help you! Unreal. I must have said "NO" about 1000 times tonight during bathtime but she just thinks it's funny. Well, it's not.

I have noticed, as of late, that even she has started shaking her head "NO."

Whatever it is, the answer is "no."

I can't imagine where she picked that up.

Could it be that she sees me doing it to her all the time?

Gee, I wonder why...

Bad Influence

I am a big fan of eminem. BIG.

You like him? Great. You loathe him? Great.

I love him.

I love him in the car and in concert. I love him on DVD and on TV. I love him in books and on posters. I love him in interviews and on magazine covers.

I love him here, I love him there, I love him pretty much anywhere!

The thing is, I really think Frankie J digs him too.

Is that bad?

Being that she is only 15 months old, and has only been exposed to English for about 4 months, I still pop in Eminem CD's when we're in the car together. I figure she still has no idea what he's talking about.

Thus, we jam.

Her legs go up and down like crazy and I swear I have seen her pump her right arm up and down to the beat. (Rapper style).

I'm telling you, my girl is down with Eminem.

What am I supposed to do? The poor kid was deprived of so much the first 11 months of her life, can I deprive her of this?

I don't think I can.

I don't think I will.

At least not yet.

I know there will come a day when I won't be able to pop in his CD's anymore or, at best, I'll have to get the ones with censored lyrics. (Blech!) That day is out there though, it's out there...just looming above me like a thunderstorm threatening a picnic. It makes me sad, yes--but I'm thinking if I don't pull him from my CD player, the alternative could be very bad later on down the line...

Teacher:

Frankie, I'm sorry, but you and your friends are going to have to keep it down.

Frankie:

B*tch, keep talkin'

Keep on poppin' off, flip them jaws because

We ain't stoppin'

We ain't gotta prove $h*t to ya'll

So all ya'll can lick the b#!!$ and keep walkin'!

OY.

That would be bad. Very bad.

I should probably just stop playing him now.

Blech!

Queen of the Crib

Ms. Thang is becoming unbearable to live with.

Soon after we got the letter about her "bandanna photo" being inducted into that "baby coffee table book," her adoption agency asked for permission to put her picture on their new brochure. It has totally gone to her head. She can't walk, but she is climbing Mount Ego. The kid can't say her own name, but she insists that I hire an agent and assistant for her as soon as possible.
Unreal.

Also, a side story and a little tip for those who keep kleenex next to the crib:

Don't.

As usual, we put Frankie down for her mid-day camp siesta around 3:00. When I went to get the princess after she awoke from her slumber, I walked into a room that had been transformed into the "White Party" --but P Diddy wasn't there.

Kleenex was everywhere!

Either before, after or during her naptime, Frankie decided to grant independence to almost each and every one of the sheets in the kleenex box. Be free! It was all over the floor in front of the crib, it was free floating on the side, and much of it was covering the crib sheet. Few soft soldiers were still being held captive by the time I got there--almost everyone had been liberated. Being that it was easy to clean and the kleenex had not been used, it was funny...and she looked so proud of herself rocking back and forth in her crib waving kleenex at me. "Look what I did!" I wanted to be proud of her but it's not like what she is did is hard or anything. I mean, how hard it is? You pull and throw. Big whoop. I certainly wasn't mad, but I also wasn't quite sure if praise was in order. We eventually settled for telling her how cute she was and cleaned everything up.

I figure we got off easy.
It could have been the "Brown Party" starring poop instead of kleenex.

That's one party I hope she never invites me to.

Time To Take A Stand

Frankie stood up this past weekend. Then she fell down. She doesn't always fall down though-- at least not right away. Sometimes she stays up for a few seconds and just looks confused like "what am I doing up here?" and then she inevitably falls down. Either way-- it's official. She is standing and I'm not the only one who has seen it. Walking can't be far behind, but no one on this end is in any big hurry. It will happen when it happens. Somehow I don't picture her crawling around her high school, so I'm fairly confident the walking thing will happen at some point.

Frankie is also standing strong as a self-proclaimed vegetarian. I thought this little phase would have passed by now, but no uh-uh. I still try to sneak the meat, chicken or turkey in, but every time I do she either nonchalantly tosses it and ignores me, or vehemently throws it and shoots me the "Hello? I told you, Madre, no food with a face!" glare--like I'm not respecting her choices or something. Jeez...take it easy--I just want to make sure you're getting enough iron.

Frankie decided to grow out of one of her really cute pairs of shoes on the way to dinner last night. The outfit was a bit lacking as it felt really incomplete without the cute shoes, but thankfully we all survived and managed to have a nice dinner.

Frankie has also deemed yelling to be a form of communication. "AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH" (See second photo) We don't get it, but it's funny so we do engage, harmonize...and sometimes instigate.

Frankie has made it painfully clear that it doesn't really matter what time we leave camp to make the 3 hour trip home. She will stand strong against giving into a nap and instead opt to whine for at least half the trip. It's so awesome.

Lastly, a month or so ago-- just for kicks--I entered one of Frankie's photos in the Great American Photo Contest. I don't know why I did it. I just did it. How about there was a letter in the mail today that Frankie has been selected to be featured in the 2008 edition of America's Most Beautiful Babies! No, I am not kidding--How crazy is that? We always thought she was cute and I guess we were right! In case you're curious as to which photo was selected, it can be found on the 6/13 blog: it's the one with Frankie in the white bandanna.

I would also like to mention that before Frankie went to sleep tonight, she informed me that she will no longer get out of her crib for less than 10,000 a day. She asked me to thank her "Auntie" (must say with Australian accent) Nicole for taking the chosen picture, Eminem for doing the song we used for our Family Camp skit that prompted the outfits, me for forgetting her Detroit cap and defaulting to the white bandanna and--of course, Cody, for being not only her Daddy, but also her hero.

Ode To Sippy Cup

I have never really been a jealous person by nature.

I mean, of course I have had my moments (who hasn't), but generally speaking I have never really wanted what someone else has. I have always been happy with my life and what I have.

Until now.

I see babies using sippy cups and I am jealous.

I am. I'm big enough to admit that.

I am jealous of the moms who made it happen.

Why can't I make it happen?

What am I doing wrong?

Oh, sippy...why won't Frankie love you?

It's my only "thing" with Frankie. Everything else--no problem--it will happen when it happens but I'm all about the sippy cup thing happening now. For some reason, it is both my obsession and nemesis: The Sippy Cup.

Yeah, yeah, yeah...Frankie will do it when she's ready (like everything else). I know, I know.

Doesn't help.

Why isn't she doing it NOW? She's 14 months old. Now isn't good?

It's good for me. Not good for her??

Yes, I've tried all the different brands out there.

Yes, I've tried other things besides water.

Yes, I put cranberry juice in the vodka to dilute it a bit.

I have done it all!

She hates the sippy.

I feel bad for the sippy.

This is what it contends with being around Frankie:

Oh, Sippy Cup
Oh, Sippy Cup

Be gone from my life

You're a royal pain in the butt

Mommy shoves you in my face

I push you away

She just doesn't get it...

I will never cave

I picked you up once

It was a tease

I just wanted to show

That I can do it with ease

I only like milk

And bottles are the only way

Keep comin' at me, sippy--

I will make you pay

I will throw you to the ground

You won't spill, but it will hurt

Sometimes you will hit tile

Somtimes you will hit dirt

I will never give up the bottle

You can fly me to the moon

Don't think I won't take it there

And on my freakin' honeymoon

Oh, yeah--bottles rule

Sippy cups suck

You can keep trying

I don't really give a &%#$

(Nice mouth, Frankie).

More things that I find baffling...

1. I can cut her nails in the morning and by mid-afternoon she can still scratch me in the neck.

2. She will say a word or two out loud, plain as day, and then it goes in the vault never to be heard again.

3. She likes to pull herself up on my shirt (when I'm not wearing a bra) and show everyone my boobs. The "boob grace" I gave (compliments of Frankie) at the Chinese restaurant is my personal favorite.

4. Nasty, gross, chewed up food that is all over her hands needs to go on my face.

5. When we leave for camp at night, she would rather whine than sleep in the car. How about this? YOU drive and I'LL sleep. You won't hear me whining!

6. The remote with the batteries is way more fun to play with than the designated "Frankie Remote" without batteries.

7. Her toys will randomly go off at 3 in the morning. "YELLOW! YELLOW!" That's fun to wake up to.

8. She won't eat the "Pizza Hot Pocket" she loved a few days ago, but she will happily put sand, sticks and stones in her mouth.

9. When we sit by the door and I say "open" a million times, she will look at me like I'm from Mars, but she has no trouble pushing it open it when I'm in the middle of peeing.

10. The clip or barrette I try to put in her hair makes her crazy, but the stinky load of meal memories she's totin around in her diaper isn't bothersome in the least.

Kids are weird.

Mine included.

Brainiac

So, I figured out why Goodnight Moon is such a great book for kids.

It's not just the flowing prose or colorful illustrations.
(At least not in our house)

It's because the pages aren't packed with words so I can actually get each page read before frantic page turning Frankie makes her next move.

I feel so smart right now.

Dog Daze

I admit that I have rolled in my share of $hit.
I also have been known to tip over a trash can or break into the cabins at camp looking for food.

I swim in the lake and then shake where there are people around so they get sprayed.

Still and all, I am the cutest dog ever. Just ask my Mom. Ask anyone. Everyone thinks so.

It even says so on my dog tag.

Floyd Coden: Cutest dog ever.

When my Mom and Dad left for China, I had no idea where they were going or why. I sensed things were a little loony before they left, but they're a little cuckoo anyway so one never knows with them. My brother, Dakota, went to Doggie Heaven to hit on sexy poodles and eat at the 24 hour biscuit buffet only a few months before so I just assumed that they were going to get a brother for me. I couldn't understand what was taking so long though. When they rescued me, it only took one day. Where were they? No one was telling me anything. They just kept telling me how cute I was. Hello? I know that. Not helping. I am a bit of a Mama's boy and I wanted my Mama.

After 17 days, they finally came home. They were not alone though. My Dad was holding some kid. A girl. What the hell was I supposed to do with her? She didn't look fun. What was going to happen to ME? I am Mommy's "precious poochie"--everyone knows that! Was I still going to get to go to work with Mommy? Camp? What's the bed situation? When we are home and Dad is at camp, do I still get his side or does SHE? (Just kidding, Dad--no one sleeps on your side of the bed when you're at camp...that doesn't happen, I was totally kidding about that).

It took everyone a little bit of time (like 3 weeks) to get adjusted to the time change when Frankie came to our house. I helped. When they were all getting over their jet lag, I kept the same hours so no one was alone. I even slept in Frankie's room with my Mom the first night they were home (but one night was enough).

Frankie cried a lot when she first came to our house. It was kind of annoying. She was loud about it (and a little scary) but I would go to her every single time because I'm nice and I know she was scared. Plus I felt a great deal of empathy towards her: I went through 3 or 4 foster homes before landing with the Codens. I wasn't exactly scared when I went from being "Bobbie the Rescue Dog" to "Floyd Marshall Coden," but it was an adjustment nevertheless (can you believe I know that word) and I figured I would assist the metamorphosis of Feng FuLan to Frankie Jade as much as I could.

Everyone kept telling my Mom that "things would change" with our relationship when Frankie came (that drove her nutso), but really they haven't changed that much. All of the stuff we used to do, we still do--Frankie just comes too.

There are some things that Frankie doesn't get to do that I do though:
I'm allowed on Mom's bed at night when Dad is camp (no, I'm not) and Frankie doesn't come.

I go to work with Mom and Frankie doesn't come.

I attend evening programs at camp after 8:00 and Frankie doesn't come.

I am very nice to Frankie. Sometimes she pulls on my ears or swats me on the nose and I am still nice to her. Sometimes she wakes me up (see pictures above) and I never complain. We have a good thing going, me and Frankie--she leaves all kinds of food for me on her high chair and on the floor when she's eating. I never have to give her any of my food though. Does that make up for her trying to put her finger in my eye? No, but it's OK. She's just being Frankie and and I am nice to her because that is my nature. I'm Floyd Coden: Cutest dog ever.

Camp Tanuga-A Place To Grow

Frankie, Floyd and I are up at camp right now. It's freakin' crazy here. There is a lot going on and no one wants to miss anything.

I get it.

I'm the same way.

Overnight camp is a special place where kids grow both physically and mentally in the time they are here. The days are long but the weeks are short. It's over before you know it. The kids stay busy trying new activities like the the trapeze or the high ropes course in a safe and supportive environment, they broaden and sharpen their creative and social skills, and they learn how to co-exist and compromise with others in very close quarters--all the while feeling out their own independence and new-found autonomy several miles from home.

Again... it's crazy here. It is not at all unusual for the kids to "forget" to brush their teeth or write a letter home and, in some cases, a few have been known to "not have time" to go to the bathroom.

I'm a little surprised by our newest addition, Miss Frankie Jade, though.

It seems my girl has been swept up by the madness as well.

My hope every day is that Frankie drinks around 20 oz of milk. That is usually a given, but these past few days she has just "had no time" for her bottle and she would prefer to be doing something else. No. Uh-Uh. Sor-ry. That is just not going to happen. Last I checked, one of the Camp Tanuga prerequisites is that campers don't crap their pants on a daily basis and seeing as though Miss Frankie still does, it's not looking like there is going to be space for her in a cabin anytime soon. Drink your milk, shortie.

Frankie has also taken a recent stab at standing (with help) up for her convictions. She is currently proclaiming herself as a vegetarian. Turkey? No more. Hamburger? No chance. Tuna fish? Are you kidding me? Chicken McNuggets? Paleez...it's your dime. Waste if you wish.

I'm not sure how or when this happened; Frankie definitely liked turkey a month or so ago. I have fond memories. In fact, I must still be in mourning those nostalgic turkey days because I still put it in front of her quite frequently, though my efforts consistently prove to be an exercise in futility. Sometimes I'll even throw down turkey and cheese together hoping her love for cheese will balance her dislike for turkey, but she just tosses the sad, unwanted turkey aside (or more likely, to the floor) and ignores its existence.

I am a counselor for one child this summer.

She's not even paying to come here and she is already proving to be quite the high maintenance camper-in-training. She pushes her bottles away and turns her nose up at any "food with a face," yet she always manages to leave the biggest mess behind in the mess hall. (She flirts hard with the K-Staff so they just don't have the heart to get mad at her).

My girl seems to be following the lead of the campers that surround her. Her little body is bypassing the shorts she has worn only once and her head is overflowing with new thoughts of determination every day. Do I wish she'd slow down and drink her milk and eat some meat? Sure, but she's not starving and I know she'll get to it eventually.

With each day that passes we see less and less of the sad, little, abandoned FuLan we picked up from the orphanage and more and more of the happy, sassy, secure Frankie Jade we are raising. I can already tell she will one day be running around this place as busy and preoccupied as the next kid...I just hope she takes a minute to say "Hi" to her Mommy every now and then.

The Good, The Bad and The $hitty...

Yesterday Little Miss Asian Sensation woke up at 5:46 in the morning. BAD. She fell back asleep and woke up again at 7:07. GOOD.

She started crying a bit when we pulled into daycare. BAD. She let out a real good cry when when I gave her up to the daycare owner. ALSO BAD. I know she stops about 5 seconds after I leave but it still hurts my heart for a minute. I'm thinking that she cries when I let her go because she is just really digging me right now. GOOD. That will surely change as she grows older. I'm sure it will be more like "Ugh, JUST GO!!!" But for now, she cries-- and as bad as it is...it's also kind of nice.

The economy sucks and work is really slow right now. BAD. It does give me more time with my girl though so that is GOOD. I decided, since there was really nothing going on at work, to pick Frankie up early from daycare. We went home, had a snack and played the "Thank You Game." What's the "Thank You Game?" When Frankie has something in her hand, I put my hand out and say "Can I have that?" She ponders it for a brief moment, and then (sometimes reluctantly) places it in my hand. I exclaim "THANK YOU!!!!" with such enthusiasm that one would think she just gave me a Dior Saddle Bag circa 1971. I surely sound like an idiot, but she seems to like it and it usually promps her to say "Thank you," which actually sounds a lot more like "Dant Doo."

At 3:00, we did the bottle and book thing before I put her down for her nap. The nap, however, was not on her calendar. That girl wanted no part of a nap. It was not happening. BAD. BAD. BAD. After about 30 minutes of in-out kisses kisses, in-out kisses kisses...I threw in the towel. Sometimes it's just not worth it. Plus, it was beautiful out so we went outside and I pushed her on the swing. GOOD. GOOD. GOOD. She loves the swing. My dad showed up and he joined in.

Where's Floyd? Oh, I'll tell you where Floyd was: He was rolling around in $hit he managed to find in the woodsy part of our backyard. BAD. VERY, VERY BAD. I don't know whose $hit it was, but I can tell you that it wasn't mine. My dad took FJ while I did an abridged doggie bath in the laundry room. So gross and really--just WRONG. Why do dogs do that? I don't get that.

As I left the house for my last birthday celebration with my friends, I smiled because I knew my dad would keep his eye on Floyd and my girl was in very capable hands with her Grampa.

My friends and I had a blast at dinner. It is good (GOOD) to get out sometimes. We ate, we laughed, we stuffed our faces--I got caught up, got presents and got dessert (SO, SO, SO GOOD). When I tried to pay for my share, they wouldn't let me and our waitress chimed in that no one had to pay. It seems my husband called the restaurant and paid for the whole dinner for all of us!!! Oh...we love Cody, he is SO GOOD.

We all went back to my house so they could kiss FJ before I swept her off for bottle, book and bed. Yes, I skipped the bath (BAD, I know--but it's rare, so it's not THAT bad).

As everyone was all over FJ (she was loving it), my one girlfriend who we will refer to as "The Diva" got down and started petting Floyd and rubbing him around the facial area. GOOD for Floydie. She looked up at me and said: "Rob, why is Floyd so wet?"
Ooopsie.
I looked down and said: "Oh, he rolled in $hit earlier--but I cleaned him."

GOOD, BAD? I guess it's neither but for some reason it was at that precise moment--as I was standing there with FJ on my hip clad in her loaded diaper, looking down at my girlfriend on the floor with my stinky, but precious pooch, that I fully realized that I'm a mom...and with that title comes days inundated with some good, some bad and some $hit... and for some reason it was just really, really FUNNY.

Frankie's Laws

When Frankie, Floyd and I got to camp last week, I was very excited to show Cody all the cute pictures I had taken during our few days downstate. Of course, a half-full bottle of water decided to spill in my bag thus trashing all its contents-- including the camera. SWEET. Pictures are gonzo and I have to buy a new camera.

AWESOME.

What is that?? It surely can't be my fault that the bottle leaked. Is it bad luck? Faulty water bottle? Murphy's Law? I don't know, but I can tell you that my life seems to be governed by lots of laws lately, and as far as I know--they're not filed with the State of Michigan.

They all come from Princess Frankie and they go a little something like this:

Wherever you go, if you bring two diapers with you, I will crap myself three times.

When we go out, no matter what you bring me to eat, I will decide I don't like it anymore and it shall go on the floor. Oh, Floyd is not in the restaurant to eat my scraps? Not my problem.

If you forget to place a new diaper below my tushie when you are changing me out of the old one, I WILL PEE while you're changing me, it will travel under my butt and up my back, and it will thoroughly soak both the changing pad and the back of the new clothes you probably paid too much for just to have me pee all over them.

I will no longer give you any trouble when you put me down for my nap or at night, but I'm gonna get up at 6:00 am every morning. Deal with it.





There will be no water intake. Water sucks--Sippy cups suck. No stupid song you sing or "bop, bop, bop" on my nose with said sippy cup is going to get me to drink water. Stop trying.





No Shoes, No Service? I think not. I'm not going to wear shoes and I will get service.





Sometimes, just to keep you on your toes, I will fall asleep in your arms and when you put me in my crib I will "fake sleep" until you go to leave and then I will cry- HARD.





Right after you wipe my face and nose, I will sneeze and even MORE boogers and drool will come out.





If I feel the need for you to hold me, that will be precisely the same time that Floyd is ready to come in and he needs his paws wiped. You can't put me down though... Good luck with that.




I might give you hell when you put me down for a nap, but I'll fall asleep in the car in 2 seconds flat when we're on our way to dinner.




If I am ready to "High 5" you, you will accomodate my hand in the air, even if I'm looking to do it 50 times in a row. My "High 5's" will NOT be ignored. EVER. One must never ignore the "High 5."





By law I only poop in restaurants that don't have changing tables. That's just how it is. Your only options are to change me in a stall or let me stink up the restaurant. You will consider letting me hang out in my own poop while finishing dinner because your thoughts are hazy and your head will be is spinning from my Southern region stench. You will ultimately conclude that changing me in a cramped stall can't be nearly as bad as some of the places you were forced to change me in China, so you will go for the stall. The toilet will be equipped with an electronic flusher. You will put me down as gingerly as possible and bend over on the dirty, nasty floor (back will be killing you) --and you will sweat your ass off trying to change the explosion in my dipe, (all the while trying not to let my head touch the ground). Sweat beads will continue to build on your brow and in between your ta-tas. The flusher will go off incessantly because it is confused by all the movement and some of the toilet water will spray your back. As you try to pull apart baby wipes with one hand, you will curse your stall vs. stench decision, curse the restaurant for being too cheap to install a changing table, and curse all poop everywhere as the people hanging in the bathroom will glance at each other and ask themselves just what the HELL is going on behind our door...





I will only stay up coughing all night when we're home, and it's just you, and you have a meeting with a prospective new client the next day. I will never do that when we're at camp and Daddy is there to deal with it.




Just when you think you're done cleaning the kitchen, you will remember that you forgot to clean that "stupid high chair."




Squash that goes in will look exactly the same when it comes back out. (That is not a Frankie law--it's just a law).




You will leave a big tips at all restaurants to make up for me leaving tons of food around the floor of my high chair. As you apologize to everyone in the restaurant, they will tell you how cute I am and I will continue to throw whatever food, napkins or silverware I can reach that may still be left on the table.




I now make you laugh way more than I make you cry so you will herein abide by all the above laws until I decide to change them...and that will probably be tomorrow.

Does one size really fit all...?

Michael Stars would have you believe that it does, but I can't say that I agree.

I started this blog before we left to get Frankie Jade because I thought it would be a good way to stay connected with our friends and family while we were in China. I stayed with it because, for Mother's Day, Cody had all the blogs made into a beautiful hardcover book that Frankie will have forever and I thought it would be cool for her to watch FuLan turn into Frankie along with the rest of us. Plus, she will have something to remember her Mom by one day when I'm gone. For me and my family, it has become a preservation piece that serves many different purposes.

I certainly don't expect the blog to serve the same purpose for everyone.
If you're into it, I love that, and I'm totally and completely happy to have you as a reader and friend.

This blog, however, is not for everyone. I never expected it to be. I didn't start writing it for that purpose. I'm not writing it for anyone but my kid. Hey, we all have good days and bad days; the blog has been a good outlet for me to reflect on both. I have come to realize that my tone reflects my personality and if you don't like me, (or know me) you might not be into it. I'm fine with that. One size does not fit all.

I don't expect to get comments on the blog, though they are certainly welcome and appreciated IF they are not fueled by negativity or bad energy. There was a comment made on the last post that prompted other readers to email me a common denominator question that I, quite frankly, was curious about as well:

WHO ARE YOU?
Your comment was so completely bizarro that even I was a bit taken aback. Clearly, you are not someone who knows me at all, or you wouldn't have said some of the things you said:

1. "Get some perspective, honey... Suck it up and be a mommy...a grateful mommy." Oh no you di-in't! You did NOT just say that to me! How in the world does a "venting" post that I am completely entitled to make me an ungrateful mommy? That is the craziest thing I have ever heard. WHO ARE YOU??? You don't know anything about me, my family or the lifestyle that we lead having Daddy gone for several months out of the year. I'm certainly not saying I have it harder than any other Mom out there--I'm not stupid, I know that is not true, but last time I checked, this is my blog and I'll cry if I want to. (And I wasn't even crying, most of it was said in jest.)

2. You understand that I am lonely? Hardly. I have Frankie, Floyd and tons of friends and family around who rock the house, but that doesn't mean that the adoption, the adjustment, the constant back and forth travel and the lifestyle haven't been hard on my marriage.

3. Louis Vuitton Bag? Um...No. Not my style (except for the sassy, red one that Cody got me several years ago when he told me he loved me for the first time).

I don't proclaim to be a professional writer or parent. I'm navigating new territory and making my way as best I can along with every other new parent out there. I think I'm pretty safe in saying that what we're all looking for is some support and understanding during this time.

If you feel like making a comment on the blog, I love to get them and Frankie will love them too one day, but please keep in mind why I'm writing this and who I'm doing it for. Anonymous comments telling me to "suck it up" really just don't jive with the rest of the blog setting and tone.

Frankie would definitely not give out one of her famous "High 5's" for that one.

Gimme some props...

Hi Cody,

You are a good husband and I love you.

You are a good Daddy Warbucks and Frankie loves you.

We also love that you own an overnight camp for kids because camp is the bomb. You're not around at all from May until mid-September, but being Up North is great and we love being around all the counselors and kids. We love the pace, the food, the schedule and all the drama and gossip (especially because none of it is ever about us...) Camp is a large part of our lifestyle and the people there are our family.

That being said, there is a part of me that thinks that you owning an overnight camp for kids sucks donkeys.

It's a hard life for me.

Everytime I get back downstate for the few days I'm there--I work, do laundry, deal with um...EVERYTHING having to do with Frankie and Floyd, and before I know it, it is time to pack the car and get back up to camp. Plus, I can't come and go as I please anymore, I have to work around Frankie's schedule and even when she is finally ready, there is always something I have forgotten, a diaper that needs to be changed and a kitchen that needs to be cleaned (for the 50th time).

Also, Floyd smells. He's stinking up my car and house-- and trust me--the stuff he's rolling in ain't from the backyard at our house downstate. Uh Uh, brother--he's bringing that stench home from camp. Classy. He seems to dig it, but Mama don't.

Listen, I'm not complaining but...wait--oh!!

Yes, I am.

Hey, you know I love it. In fact, I defy you to find someone else to marry who loves camp more than me--and what's truly ironic is for how much I love it, it's so NOT me. I always thought I belonged in a place like NYC but instead I got dropped off in an alternative universe called Camp Tanuga where no one cares about fashion or make-up. I don't even get it. WHAT IS THAT??? (I hope Frankie doesn't drink that bug juice).

Bottom Line: It's a hard life for me while you're gone now that we've got a kid. It's all me and I want some props for being master single parent, juggler, organizer, packer and chauffer.

I'd also like a present.

I know that I just got Mother's Day presents and birthday presents but I don't care.

I want more.

Buy me something.

Love,

Your Baby's Mama

My job description needs to be revised:

Frankie took a dump in the bathtub last night.

I mean, (sigh) come on. That is just wrong.

Who does that?

Here's the kicker--she did it again tonight.

Oh, COME ON, Frankie. The bathtub ain't your personal outhouse. Really...you can't save that stuff for when we're at camp and Daddy can handle it? Better yet...here's a thought...oh, I don't know...how about maybe slinging that mud so it lands in your dipe? Remember those days? Good times.

Let's (YOU) really think about revisiting the old crap-in-the-diaper days, because your current method of disposal really isn't thrilling me. OK?

You're cute and all but you're really pushing it, sister.

Near Death by Chocolate

My birthday was this past Thursday.
You know how people say "I'm 37, but I feel 16!"
Yeah, well, I'm not one of those people.

Cody made sure I had a nice day filled with great presents and way too much cake.
Frankie tried to give me her own little gift of love, but it was soaked.
Floyd tried to commit suicide.

I know--I need to start from the beginning.
Ok, rewind:

For the last 6 years, I have gotten into a routine of coming up to camp on Thursdays and leaving on Sundays (my husband is part owner of a traditional overnight camp in Northern Michigan). My plans this week were to do the same. On Wednesday evening, around 5:00, I changed my mind.

Floyd and Frankie were all over me. I told them repeatedly that they were bugging me, but neither one seemed to care. I had one whining and pulling at my pant leg while the other was one was panting at my pant leg. Ugh. So annoying. Both of them. Frick and Frack. BEAT IT.

It was then I decided that it was time for Daddy to take over. After 10 days on my own, I realized I was D-O-N-E. Floyd, Frankie and I did a quick dinner and I got everyone ready to go. We were out the door in a little over an hour. Daddy-bound, yo. (Side note: Though it seems to take FOREVER to get out of the house these days, I have found that I gain some valuable crunch time by putting FJ in her car seat with the radio on while I pack the car, go to the bathroom, or do whatever. Frankie is safe and happy while I have about 5 minutes of "arm freedom.")

As I slipped into the driver's seat, I heard Frankie whining about who-knows-what. She had been fussy and irritable since I picked her up from daycare earlier in the day, and even in the car it took awhile for her to settle. Floyd was (as usual) in circles in the "way back" DYING to bark out of excitement, but opting for that muted dog whimper that makes me want to send him to "Shuttytown."

Now, normally I might care about all these annoyances afer a long day--but not tonight!
NO...no...no...
I was going to be at camp in 3 hours in 15 minutes and then, as far as I was concerned, I was going to be CLOSED FOR BUSINESS. We were on our way, baby. We're a-comin' for you, Daddy. It's all good in the hood. That song on the radio...Turn it up!!

Frankie was kind of restless on the way up. I thought for sure she'd crash after a long day of hard core playing at daycare, but she didn't. I didn't care. In fact, I was still in my "I don't care" mode when we got to camp. Frankie didn't go down until 11:00 at night, but I didn't care. I didn't even care when she woke up at 6:00 A.M. because after I got to her, I remembered that I was CLOSED, and you know what I did? I handed her to Daddy and I went back to sleep until 7:30. Oh yeah-- I did that. Cody had everything under control and besides, it was my birthday!

The day started off very nicely. We just acquired a nanny for Frankie for the days I'm at camp (so I can actually get some work done while I'm there) and I love her. She is from Australia and she's adorable. (See top picture). I'm thinking that Frankie Jade will be quite unique as a Jewish child of Chinese descent who speaks with an Australian accent. Is there even a "box" for that?

During lunch, I uncovered what I believe to be an "unintentional birthday present" from Frankie. When she was done alternating between eating her food and throwing it, I let her drink out of my water bottle. (Anything to get her to drink a little water). She seemed to be having a good time giggling and soaking her pants, so I let her do it until her pants were completely soaked with all the water that didn't make it into her mouth (most of it). A little while after lunch, I took a swig of water from that same bottle and felt something gross in my mouth. I spit it out into my hand and um...EW. My kid had decided to leave some bites of watermelon in my water bottle. How gross is that? Small, soaked, nasty chunks of watermelon. Yeah, I know. It was IN my mouth. Hello? Gross.

After I got over that traumatic experience, I spent the next few hours gathering presents, candy and "Happy Birthdays" from anyone I could. I stuffed my face full of cake and opened all my presents from Cody. It was a good day. Birthdays are good.

Floyd is not.

Cody waited until very late that night to tell me, (he didn't want to ruin my big day), but it seems my beloved stubby-tail rescue Golden Retriever thought it would be a good idea to celebrate my birthday as a "party for one" in the dry storage area in back of the mess hall. Cody just happened to be walking by only to find Floyd with his head in a huge bag of chocolate cake mix. He said that Floyd had already consumed quite a bit and when he turned to look at Cody, he had tons of chocolate dripping down both sides of his mouth. Cody freaked. Floydie is a big dog, but he had likely eaten enough to die. Thankfully, Cody and his partner worked fast. They called a vet and, as instructed, gave Floyd hydrogen peroxide with a syringe. Cody claims Floyd was throwing up the chocolate for quite awhile--and towards the end, for the finale, tossed up two corn cobs as well.

Today, Floyd is feeling much better, Frankie used a sippy cup at lunch for the 2 sips of water she took, and I was happily walking around camp proudly displaying one of my most fave bday gifts: my new necklace that says "CODY. FRANKIE. FLOYD."

They are my family. We are, undoubtedly, a spirited motley crue with no actual blood between us, but we are a very special, happy family...and for my 37th birthday, I can't ask for more than that.

But--make no mistake, I still feel every bit of 37. Every single bit of it.

Baby Steps

Today was supposed to be Frankie's first full day of daycare.

I love Frankie's daycare. It's a home daycare and the woman that owns it is FAB-OO.

I have taken Frankie over there a few times (I stayed too) so she can get used to the environment and the vibe. She loves it. Not for one second did I worry that she wasn't going to love it. It's flippin' daycare: You play inside, you play outside, you nap, you eat, you snack. What's not to love? Sign me up!

The plan was to drop FJ off from 8:00 A.M. to 3:00 P.M. today. I solidified the plan with the owner, I sent her an outline of Frankie's schedule, I got a bag of Frankie's "stuff" all ready--I was set.

Until last night.

I got to thinking..."Is she really ready to eat breakfast, take a nap, and then eat lunch with people she doesn't know that well yet?" Yes, we've been there 3 or 4 times, but only for snippets of time. Is that enough? Frankie may be the happiest kid this side of the The Mississippi, but the truth of the matter is she was just adopted from a different country and she's been through a lot in the last three months. It has taken us awhile to get her little Frankie-ism's down, are other people ready for that?

Will they know that if she acts like she's not in the mood for oatmeal, all you have to do is put a cheerio on top of the spoonful, do the secret meal-time song, and that usually works? Will she be OK at nap time even though she won't be in her own crib? Will they know the little maneuvers you have to do with the sippy cup to get her to even THINK about taking a sip of water? --and even then she still only takes one to three sips!

Yes, I put this all in a note, but will they REALLY know these things?

Are they ready for Frankie?
Is Frankie ready?

HELLO???? AM I READY?

I decided late last night that I would take Frankie over after lunch instead of at 8:00 A.M. That way she could eat breakfast with me, nap at home and eat lunch with me before going. It was the right move. I felt very good about my decision. I think all day would have been too much. I think she needs to do daycare as she has done everything else--slowly.

I never thought I would be the Mom who wanted to spend the whole day with my kid, but as we were eating lunch today, it dawned on me just how much I was going to miss her. I was shocked. I mean really, what do we have in common? We don't like the same shows and she's not into fashion mags, we don't have much to talk about since she doesn't speak any language that I've ever heard of, and I'm constantly wiping her ass and her nose. What's the lure?

In a million years, I never thought I would have a hard time letting go. I was wrong. It was heartwrenching. I don't mind divulging that I cried all the way to work after dropping her off. (Thankfully I am not wearing eye make-up right now because I have some weird eye infection--probably from something Frankie gave me).

I know daycare is the best thing for Frankie because it will not only strengthen her social skills, but she will undoubtedly thrive in the positive, fun and supportive environment the caretakers have created. I also know in the end it will be the best thing for me because I will be able to work a fair amount of hours, and then I will then be able to give my full attention to Frankie. (Plus I'll have the cash to continue leaving big tips for all the food she throws around at restaurants).

I know all of these things to be true.
But just as it will take some time for Frankie to ease into it, it seems that I'm going to need some time too.

Here are 3 things...

...that I find baffling:

1. Frankie has a runny nose and a cough. I have no idea how she got it but the only one it doesn't seem to bother is her. Why anyone LIKES having boogers running out of their nose is beyond me. She freaks when I go to wipe them off--like they're her friends or something. It's gross. I don't get it.

2. How can she LOVE to eat something one day, and two days later, it's the worst thing she's ever eaten and she's appalled that I would even try to feed it to her? Like all of the sudden she's a "foodie."

3. She consistently pushes the sippy cup of water away but loves to drink out of my water bottle. Most of it ends up on her shirt and by the time we're done, she looks like she's ready to enter a "Spring Break Wet T-Shirt Contest." HOT.

Dear Frankie

Dear Frankie,

Why are you trying to send Mommy to the Cuckoo's Nest? Why? Mommy loves you. Mommy does everything for you. How can it be that you are the happiest kid EVER until it is naptime or bedtime? Yes, I know I am totally awesome and you don't want me to leave your room, but YOU have to sleep so I can sleep. That way I can continue my awesomeness. (I don't care if that's not a real word--I'm tired).

Really, honey--there is no reason for all this crying and drama. When they say "Save the drama for your Mama," understand this--they don't mean me.

You're tired. You need to sleep. (Can you try to sleep past 6:00 am while you're at it? That is just wrong to get up that early...why did you trade in 7:00 for 6:00? 7:00 was really way better).

I promise, you're not going to miss anything while you sleep. All I'm going to do is clean up all the messes you have made and get some work done because your expensive taste is putting Mommy in the poor house.

Thanks for the freebie last Sunday when we got home from Camp and you slept all night. Your four legged brother, however, decided that would be a fine night to wake me several times by throwing up all the food he consumed by way of his dumpster diving antics. If I never see corn again, it will be too soon. I was seeing it from both sides of you two for three days. THANKS.

Here is a bedtime lullaby for you:

It's time for bed, sleepy head

Daddy's not here, so please be a dear

And go to sleep, don't make a peep

There's no need to cry, I promise that I

Will check on you, at least one or two

Times in the night, so please don't fight

The sleep in your eyes, try and try

To save the crying and the screaming for when we get to camp and Daddy is there to deal with it!!!

Love, Mommy

Some Memorial Day Memories...

I remembered to bring the camera to camp this past weekend (Memorial Day Weekend) so Cody could download all the new, fun pictures, but I forgot the battery. SMART. Of course, the camera was dead. I will bring it when I go back on Thursday.

In the meantime, Frankie, when you read this blog later, I'd like you to know of a few other "gems," from this past weekend--all involving you:

1. You used to hate fruit but now that's all you will eat. Everything else, as far as you're concerned, should be banished to the floor.

2. You know we don't like it when you throw food on the floor, because you blink real fast about 50 times in a row when we tell you "NO," but yet, you do it anyway...and not only that, but you do it while looking at us with this odd look on your face that says: "I know this is wrong, but really, what are YOU gonna do about it?"

3. You tricked me. You gave me two full nights of sleeping all the way through when we were at home, but made up for it when we got to camp. (Thankfully, two of the nights were on Daddy's watch). The last night when it was time for bed, you were a mess. You were screaming and crying (why, I have NO idea) and you couldn't be consoled. I think you had a night terror, I'm not sure. You were scary. It wasn't fun. You got me out of bed 4 times. I don't get it. You had a great day: You played, you stuffed your face, you went on a shopping trip to Traverse City with me and Fancy Nancy, everyone at camp made a big fuss over you, you took a nice stroll around camp in your sweet baby jogger--you had a stellar day, sister. What is the dealio?

3-1/2. Frankie's response to #3: "I'll get you out of bed 14 times if I want and you know you'll come when I call. Learn that and live that, Mamacita!" ...and of course...she is right.

4. You have recently decided that it's really fun to squirm around A LOT when you're getting your diaper changed. Stop it. It's annoying. You made me get some poop on me. Mommy is not into that.

5. Stop trying to fake us out when we're practicing with water in the sippy cup. We know when you're faking. Get this now, Frankie J: In order to get the very special "Coden Song and Dance" from Mommy and Daddy, we need to see a few REAL BUBBLES when you're trying to drink from the sippy cup. Contrary to what you may think--putting the cup in your mouth, taking it out, throwing your hand in the air while giving us a big smile will NO LONGER get you the "Coden Song and Dance." We fell for that one too many times. We're on to you.

You feel me?

HALLELUJAH!!!

Frankie slept the WHOLE night last night!

She didn't wake up once--not even when I went in there at 2:00 A.M. and 4:00 A.M. to make sure she was still breathing.

How about this one though? Once, when I went in, I touched her leg to see if she was OK (I'm such a newbie) and she kind of kicked me away like I was bugging her. Oh--I'm so sorry, Ms. Frankie. So sorry to bother YOU while YOU'RE sleeping.

Fingers crossed that we have another good night tonight.

You know we won't.

You know she'll get up 4 times in order to make up for last night.

She is so like that. I don't know where she gets it.