Reinvention.

I am here. We are here. It's just been an exhausting week in Punkyville as the Lovely Miss Punk has been undergoing a self-imposed period of reinvention. Anyone else's kids do this? I mean, this isn't like my eighth grade year when I decided that because clearly nobody understood me, I would buy out the entire clearance section of Hot Topic to convey my pariah-ness through my wardrobe. No, this was a complete overhaul of our previously agreed-upon schedule -- the one that had made living with an infant adorably tolerable.

I don't know if it's the teething that caused it or what, but things that had once been entirely normal became enraging. She did NOT want a bottle (which your exhausted Heroine had provided Punky with after Punky decided that with her new teeth, Mom's nipples made awesome chew toys), when for the last five months she had no problem chugging like a frat boy on pledge night. The car seat was now the most offensive place I could possibly seat her -- despite the fact that she's loved car rides more than my dog. And she WOULD. NOT. TAKE. A. NAP. No naps. She went three days in a row with no nap all day, and would offer a hearty FUCK YOU for insinuating she might need one.

The end result was an extremely pissed off baby by about 5 p.m. But the kid would NOT sleep. I even tried pulling the "I'm Mommy and I said so" card by declaring mandatory naptime, and still nothing. She laid in her crib and screamed for an hour, then somehow in that time writhed herself into a chenille blanket noose. After that, I was too consumed with the overwhelming feelings of, "Shit, I'm a horrible parent" to attempt to force her into napping submission.

And then, as quickly as it came upon us, The Plague of the Napless, Bottle-less Baby lifted and she's back to schedule. I really don't get it. I don't know if some gypsy put a curse on our house, or what, but there were five days there that I really, truly considered taking her back to the hospital, or the pound, or hell, just spreading eagle and putting her back to cook a little longer until she decided to be civil.

In other news, I lack a green thumb. It's more of a brown and dried out and dead thumb. I've officially failed as plant mother to hanging plants. HANGING PLANTS, I screwed THIS up. I hung five plants -- impatiens and something else -- on our porch. I watered them like crazy, especially with the July heat, and all the plants seemed to be doing well enough until two bailed on me in the last week. So now I have a hanging plant still hanging, which is clearly dead, brown, dried-up, ceased to exist, it is no more -- it DIED!!!! -- and I still have it hanging there.

As a warning, just in case the other plants start thinking about getting out of line.