Hey, you know what's ridiculously cute? When your daughter wakes up fussy, but smiles the minute she sees you, and greets you with unsolicited kisses as soon as you pick her up.
You know what's not so cute? When this is all happening at 2am. And it's the third time she's been up since she went down at 7:30pm, and it's the second time you've been up since you went to bed at 11:30. And you know she's exhausted by the way she keeps yawning and rubbing her eyes, but she refuses to sleep unless you're holding her and rocking her and walking her around the room. This was my night last night. It was like we were all transported back to the newborn era, but with a 20+ pound hoss to haul around instead of a 7 pound lump.
So, yeah, I'm tired today.
I know I've been ridiculously lucky. Brigid has basically been a fantastic sleeper so far, with very little input or effort from us, and she's generally a happy baby. It's all gone so well, in fact, that I'm always afraid to talk about it, because I know how karma reacts if you get too comfortable with things. Karma hates it. And apparently, karma now hates me. Damn you, karma.
(I don't mean it, karma...please give me my happy baby back! I'll go back to freaking out about every little thing, I promise! Just please, please let her be happy again!)
And since I haven't had to deal with excessively fussy baby before, I have no idea how to handle this. And, I have no idea what is wrong with her, either. We're not sure if it's teething, or if what I thought was allergies earlier this week was actually a cold which I've since passed on to Brigid. If it's door number one, then I'd better go home to about six teeth, because I don't think I'm going to make it through this phase if we go one by one. If it's door number two, then I suck, and I guess I deserve to be awake in the middle of the night.
This should be a good time for us all.
**It's looking like the bad mommy/cold sharing scenario is the winner. Apparently I have a very stuffed up little girl who hasn't napped because she can't really breathe through her nose while sucking her thumb (her falling asleep method of choice) waiting for me when I get home. Poor baby.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Almost there...
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No, we're not to the whole crawling thing.
Yet.
But we're still finding ways to get in trouble without it.
Send help.
I'm going to need it.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Baby's second swim - the downsized edition
Last week, I documented the monumental failure we faced trying to get Brigid in the pool for the first time. Apparently, when there’s water everywhere, and it’s a little colder than you’re used to, and you can’t just sit on your butt and splash around at will, the whole concept of a pool sucks. But, when there’s a baby pool on your back porch filled with about four inches of water that has been sitting in the sun for two hours, then it’s awesome! It’s like taking a bath! Outside! In a bathtub the dogs are trying to drink out of!
Clearly, this child is in the hands of terrible, unfeeling parents when the only water toy we have in the entire house is a rubber ducky. I should probably work on that...
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Can I just say what a pain it is to spend 20 minutes switching diapers and changing clothes and adding sunscreen all for 15 minutes in the water? What are the odds I even get to see the ocean when I go to Florida in June?
Wait, don't answer that...
Clearly, this child is in the hands of terrible, unfeeling parents when the only water toy we have in the entire house is a rubber ducky. I should probably work on that...
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Can I just say what a pain it is to spend 20 minutes switching diapers and changing clothes and adding sunscreen all for 15 minutes in the water? What are the odds I even get to see the ocean when I go to Florida in June?
Wait, don't answer that...
Monday, May 24, 2010
She's ready for her close-up...
We took Brigid to get pictures taken on Saturday, heading in for another visit with the photographer that took her newborn pictures at three weeks. And once again, it was an experience.
When we did the newborn pictures, we knew what we were getting into. We knew it wouldn't be too hard to pose Brigid however we wanted to, because at three weeks, she wasn't really going too far on her own. We knew Steve and I were going to be in the pictures, holding the baby. And we knew there was going to be a lot of nekkid baby, which meant we, holding said baby, were probably going to get hit with whatever a nekkid baby produces when she's not wearing a diaper. And oh boy, did we ever get hit. We got hit about four times in the first 30 minutes we were there, as a matter of fact. So that was a good time. Or not. Whatever.
But I wasn't really as sure what to expect at seven months. I knew there would be clothes involved this time. Steve and I weren't going to be part of the pictures again. And Brigid actually smiles now, if she's in the mood, so I figured we'd be working hard to get some good shots.
Unfortunately, it turns out it was a little more like the first trip than I'd expected. We did several pictures in cute dresses, which I'm ridiculously excited to see. We did a round in her ND onesie. There were chandeliers and buckets and cute headbands all over the place. But we also did more of the pictures sans diaper, which ended up having the same result it had last time. Shocking. My kid? She is TROUBLE!! All day, she held it in just fine. We take off the diaper for pictures? She promptly peed everywhere. Ok, I get that. That happens. But when she was done with that? As I was picking her up to clean the pee off of her? Oh yeah, she let a little something extra drop. It was like the gingerbread man in Shrek...gum drops just falling out behind her as she moved. Luckily, I was holding her out away from me at the time, because, you know, there was pee. So everything else she shared with the group landed harmlessly on the floor. The photographer thought it was hilarious. Turns out, it doesn't happen to her all that often. Between the poop on the floor, the fact that Brigid tried to shred and eat every blanket the photographer was using for the pictures, and her seeming intent to pull the flowers off of the headbands the photographer provided, we may not be invited back for the next round.
And honestly? Between the constant readiness to catch her if she fell over, the nonstop attempts by her to roll herself into the opposite of whatever pose we wanted a picture of, and the nonstop singing and dancing and noises needed to get her to smile, I don't know if I want to be invited back again. This whole process was exhausting!
I just hope these pictures turn out to be worth it!
Oh, who am I kidding? Of course they're going to be worth it...
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When we did the newborn pictures, we knew what we were getting into. We knew it wouldn't be too hard to pose Brigid however we wanted to, because at three weeks, she wasn't really going too far on her own. We knew Steve and I were going to be in the pictures, holding the baby. And we knew there was going to be a lot of nekkid baby, which meant we, holding said baby, were probably going to get hit with whatever a nekkid baby produces when she's not wearing a diaper. And oh boy, did we ever get hit. We got hit about four times in the first 30 minutes we were there, as a matter of fact. So that was a good time. Or not. Whatever.
But I wasn't really as sure what to expect at seven months. I knew there would be clothes involved this time. Steve and I weren't going to be part of the pictures again. And Brigid actually smiles now, if she's in the mood, so I figured we'd be working hard to get some good shots.
Unfortunately, it turns out it was a little more like the first trip than I'd expected. We did several pictures in cute dresses, which I'm ridiculously excited to see. We did a round in her ND onesie. There were chandeliers and buckets and cute headbands all over the place. But we also did more of the pictures sans diaper, which ended up having the same result it had last time. Shocking. My kid? She is TROUBLE!! All day, she held it in just fine. We take off the diaper for pictures? She promptly peed everywhere. Ok, I get that. That happens. But when she was done with that? As I was picking her up to clean the pee off of her? Oh yeah, she let a little something extra drop. It was like the gingerbread man in Shrek...gum drops just falling out behind her as she moved. Luckily, I was holding her out away from me at the time, because, you know, there was pee. So everything else she shared with the group landed harmlessly on the floor. The photographer thought it was hilarious. Turns out, it doesn't happen to her all that often. Between the poop on the floor, the fact that Brigid tried to shred and eat every blanket the photographer was using for the pictures, and her seeming intent to pull the flowers off of the headbands the photographer provided, we may not be invited back for the next round.
And honestly? Between the constant readiness to catch her if she fell over, the nonstop attempts by her to roll herself into the opposite of whatever pose we wanted a picture of, and the nonstop singing and dancing and noises needed to get her to smile, I don't know if I want to be invited back again. This whole process was exhausting!
I just hope these pictures turn out to be worth it!
Oh, who am I kidding? Of course they're going to be worth it...
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Friday, May 21, 2010
One week down...
...eight more to go!
I've officially completed my first week of the couch to 5K program, so...woo! Steve and I are going to see Avenue Q tonight, and I can't do my normal evening run, so Brigid and I headed out this afternoon, instead. And it sucked!
Ok, it didn't suck, exactly, but it was a lot harder than it has been, which I think had more to do with the weather today than anything else. Turns out, running in post-thunderstorm humidity isn't great for my endurance. Who knew? And pushing a stroller while trying to run uphill? Also not that much fun.
My new running partner may have made the process a little more difficult, but she makes a fantastic pack mule...
And, she's not so bad to look at, either...
Plus, I didn't have to stop midway through the route to pick up poop, like I do with my usual buddy, who was less than enthusiastic about being left behind today...
Oh well. I'll try to make it up to her next week, I guess.
Week two, here I come!
I've officially completed my first week of the couch to 5K program, so...woo! Steve and I are going to see Avenue Q tonight, and I can't do my normal evening run, so Brigid and I headed out this afternoon, instead. And it sucked!
Ok, it didn't suck, exactly, but it was a lot harder than it has been, which I think had more to do with the weather today than anything else. Turns out, running in post-thunderstorm humidity isn't great for my endurance. Who knew? And pushing a stroller while trying to run uphill? Also not that much fun.
My new running partner may have made the process a little more difficult, but she makes a fantastic pack mule...
And, she's not so bad to look at, either...
Plus, I didn't have to stop midway through the route to pick up poop, like I do with my usual buddy, who was less than enthusiastic about being left behind today...
Oh well. I'll try to make it up to her next week, I guess.
Week two, here I come!
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Dialog in the Dark
A couple of weeks ago, my boss took us out for a team building activity, which she tries to do about once a year. Usually, we know what the plan is ahead of time. This time, not so much. Honestly, it’s probably a good thing she kept the activity a secret from the group this time around, because if I had known what we were doing before we went, I’d probably have called in sick that day. As it was, I had serious thoughts about trying to hide in the bathroom until everything was over, but that wasn’t really an option. What could cause such panic in me, you ask? Well, a lot of things actually…I’m pretty much scared of everything. But in this case, I was scared of the dark.
Ok, I’m not really scared of the dark, per se. But there is an exhibit in Atlanta right now called Dialog in the Dark, and it’s a really amazing experience that “will awaken senses, challenge prejudices, and deepen self-awareness” according to the website. But it’s one that I probably would have avoided at all costs if the choice had been left up to me. I guess it's a good thing it wasn’t.
Basically, Dialog in the Dark is a tour through five separate darkened rooms, each designed around an everyday activity that most people take for granted. There was a park, a grocery store, a boat, a street corner, and a café, and the trip through is intended to give you a greater appreciation for what sight-impaired individuals deal with on a daily basis. When I say it was dark, we are talking pitch-black…there was absolutely no difference between when my eyes were open and when they were closed. I kept trying to open my eyes wider, thinking they would adjust to the dark at some point, but they didn’t. All I did was give myself a headache from so much straining (insert your own Steve joke here, along the lines of now I know how he feels, since normally I’m giving him the headache, or something like that…). You’re given a cane, assigned to a sight-impaired guide who you have to rely on to get you from room to room, and then you and your group are plunged into darkness. It was scary, giving up that much control over things. The point is to rely on your other senses to figure out where you are and what is going on around you. Which is trying in and of itself, but I also couldn’t get past the whole ‘haunted house’ feeling…I was afraid to reach out and touch something I couldn’t see because I felt like I’d be sticking my hands into a bowl of peeled grape ‘eyeballs’. See ‘control issues’ above. We went as a company team because we don’t all work in the same office and we have to deal with each other without seeing each other…it was supposed to teach us better communication, I guess. And I suppose it worked, because I learned it’s easier to actually talk to someone to find out what is going on (and in this case, whether that was them or the wall I was bumping into) instead of just hitting them with my stick until they get out of my way, which seems more applicable to me in the office than it probably should.
All in all, the experience went better for me than I thought it would. I didn’t trip myself or anyone else, I didn’t hit my head on anything (They explained before we went in that if we wanted to bend down to touch something, we needed to bend with our knees, straight up and down, and not bend at the waist. Because we couldn’t see what was around us, they didn’t want us to hit our heads on anything. Last week, I picked up Brigid off of the couch, swung my head back as I got her, and promptly slammed my head into the corner of the wall behind the couch. And I knew that corner was there. It hasn’t moved in the two years we’ve lived in the house. So you can see why I was a little concerned with this whole thing.), and I think I managed to avoid grabbing any co-worker butt along the way (Speaking of butt grabbing, accidental or otherwise, can you believe they take high school groups through this exhibit? Would you want to be responsible for dealing with high school hormones in complete darkness?). And it really does give you an entirely new appreciation for your sight. In the grocery store, we were instructed to feel the products on the shelf, and tell the guide what we had. I had a small can that I immediately accepted as tuna fish. When I mentioned this to the guide, she asked if it really was tuna fish, or if it was cat food. And in the refrigeration section, someone mentioned they’d found the milk. The guide’s response? “Great! Now what’s the expiration date?” Um, ok. Good question. One that I’m now exceptionally grateful to be able to answer in my everyday life. There were lots of these little ‘oh, I’d never thought of it that way’ moments on the tour. And when everything was over, the entire team was utterly exhausted. It seemed to take everyone so far out of their comfort zone (listen to me and my Corporate America clichés!) that we were all wiped out. In fact, my boss sent people home early because she didn’t want us navigating Atlanta rush hour on the little brainpower we had left. But it was a good tired. A ‘we learned a little something today’ tired. Exhaustion and control issues aside, I’m definitely glad my boss signed us up for the experience.
I know this doesn’t come close to demonstrating what it’s like to be sight impaired on a daily basis, because it only lasted an hour for me. When the tour was over, and we went to lunch to discuss our experience, I went back to seeing everything clearly. Our guide? She didn’t. At 38, she started losing her sight due to complications with diabetes. She’s 43 now, and while she can still distinguish shadows and shapes, her condition is degenerative. At some point, she may lose everything. And I don’t know how I would handle that. Her strength, her optimism, her openness in sharing her feelings on her situation with us, it was amazing.
If you happen to find yourself in Atlanta between now and the summer of 2011 (Maybe visiting me? Or at the very least, visiting the baby? Yes, I will shamelessly lure you to my house with promises of cute baby toes and high pitched giggles.), I’d highly recommend visiting this exhibit. Heck, I may even tag along with you for another go around. Just don’t be surprised if I accidentally grab your butt.
Ok, I’m not really scared of the dark, per se. But there is an exhibit in Atlanta right now called Dialog in the Dark, and it’s a really amazing experience that “will awaken senses, challenge prejudices, and deepen self-awareness” according to the website. But it’s one that I probably would have avoided at all costs if the choice had been left up to me. I guess it's a good thing it wasn’t.
Basically, Dialog in the Dark is a tour through five separate darkened rooms, each designed around an everyday activity that most people take for granted. There was a park, a grocery store, a boat, a street corner, and a café, and the trip through is intended to give you a greater appreciation for what sight-impaired individuals deal with on a daily basis. When I say it was dark, we are talking pitch-black…there was absolutely no difference between when my eyes were open and when they were closed. I kept trying to open my eyes wider, thinking they would adjust to the dark at some point, but they didn’t. All I did was give myself a headache from so much straining (insert your own Steve joke here, along the lines of now I know how he feels, since normally I’m giving him the headache, or something like that…). You’re given a cane, assigned to a sight-impaired guide who you have to rely on to get you from room to room, and then you and your group are plunged into darkness. It was scary, giving up that much control over things. The point is to rely on your other senses to figure out where you are and what is going on around you. Which is trying in and of itself, but I also couldn’t get past the whole ‘haunted house’ feeling…I was afraid to reach out and touch something I couldn’t see because I felt like I’d be sticking my hands into a bowl of peeled grape ‘eyeballs’. See ‘control issues’ above. We went as a company team because we don’t all work in the same office and we have to deal with each other without seeing each other…it was supposed to teach us better communication, I guess. And I suppose it worked, because I learned it’s easier to actually talk to someone to find out what is going on (and in this case, whether that was them or the wall I was bumping into) instead of just hitting them with my stick until they get out of my way, which seems more applicable to me in the office than it probably should.
All in all, the experience went better for me than I thought it would. I didn’t trip myself or anyone else, I didn’t hit my head on anything (They explained before we went in that if we wanted to bend down to touch something, we needed to bend with our knees, straight up and down, and not bend at the waist. Because we couldn’t see what was around us, they didn’t want us to hit our heads on anything. Last week, I picked up Brigid off of the couch, swung my head back as I got her, and promptly slammed my head into the corner of the wall behind the couch. And I knew that corner was there. It hasn’t moved in the two years we’ve lived in the house. So you can see why I was a little concerned with this whole thing.), and I think I managed to avoid grabbing any co-worker butt along the way (Speaking of butt grabbing, accidental or otherwise, can you believe they take high school groups through this exhibit? Would you want to be responsible for dealing with high school hormones in complete darkness?). And it really does give you an entirely new appreciation for your sight. In the grocery store, we were instructed to feel the products on the shelf, and tell the guide what we had. I had a small can that I immediately accepted as tuna fish. When I mentioned this to the guide, she asked if it really was tuna fish, or if it was cat food. And in the refrigeration section, someone mentioned they’d found the milk. The guide’s response? “Great! Now what’s the expiration date?” Um, ok. Good question. One that I’m now exceptionally grateful to be able to answer in my everyday life. There were lots of these little ‘oh, I’d never thought of it that way’ moments on the tour. And when everything was over, the entire team was utterly exhausted. It seemed to take everyone so far out of their comfort zone (listen to me and my Corporate America clichés!) that we were all wiped out. In fact, my boss sent people home early because she didn’t want us navigating Atlanta rush hour on the little brainpower we had left. But it was a good tired. A ‘we learned a little something today’ tired. Exhaustion and control issues aside, I’m definitely glad my boss signed us up for the experience.
I know this doesn’t come close to demonstrating what it’s like to be sight impaired on a daily basis, because it only lasted an hour for me. When the tour was over, and we went to lunch to discuss our experience, I went back to seeing everything clearly. Our guide? She didn’t. At 38, she started losing her sight due to complications with diabetes. She’s 43 now, and while she can still distinguish shadows and shapes, her condition is degenerative. At some point, she may lose everything. And I don’t know how I would handle that. Her strength, her optimism, her openness in sharing her feelings on her situation with us, it was amazing.
If you happen to find yourself in Atlanta between now and the summer of 2011 (Maybe visiting me? Or at the very least, visiting the baby? Yes, I will shamelessly lure you to my house with promises of cute baby toes and high pitched giggles.), I’d highly recommend visiting this exhibit. Heck, I may even tag along with you for another go around. Just don’t be surprised if I accidentally grab your butt.
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
Miserable
Remember that one time, not too long ago, where I felt like a horrible wife because Steve was up in the middle of the night coughing, and all I wanted him to do was take some damn cough medicine so we could all go back to sleep? You know, this time? Well, it turns out he’s not such a sympathetic person himself!
I have an ear infection. That’s right, a freaking ear infection. And I’m pretty sure I haven’t had one of these since I was young enough to expect my mom to sit up with me all night while I cried about the pain, and she worked to make it all better.* Let’s just say it’s been awhile. I’m assuming this little earache has something to do with my allergies, since I started feeling some pressure in my ear when the pollen count was through the roof a couple of weeks ago. I thought it would all clear up on its own, but yesterday, my poor ear started to throb a little. Since the situation was obviously getting worse instead of better, I made an appointment with the doctor for Wednesday morning.
Apparently, that’s not good enough for Steve. Apparently, Steve is a little perturbed that I was up several times between 1am and 2am last night, rummaging around for something, anything that would make the pain stop so I could go back to sleep, before finally settling on a nice little cocktail of ibuprofen, warm olive oil in the ear,** and a heating pad on my pillow.*** Apparently, Steve would like to avoid a repeat performance tonight, if he can. Apparently, Steve likes his sleep.
So, he begged me to see the onsite doctor here in the office, for my sake, because he was afraid that it could be something SERIOUS, and it might get WORSE before tomorrow, and I should have it looked at RIGHT AWAY, and OMG, the world is ending. I told him I’d be fine. So, when fear for my safety didn’t work, he tried guilt, with stories of raging contagious ear infections, risks to him, risks to the baby, blah, blah, blah! I told him I’m pretty sure ear infections aren’t contagious, and Google backed me up on this one. At this point, he fully owned up to the fact that he just wants to sleep through the night tonight, and he didn’t need any disturbance from me or my ear.
Hugs and kisses, honey.
In all seriousness, though, I decided to go with it. I don’t want to be up at 1am any more than he does, and honestly, it felt so much worse as the day progressed. But the doctor! He didn’t cooperate! He was away at some meeting all morning! And he wasn’t back when he was supposed to be! I went down to see him twice! They finally said they’d call me when he came back! An onsite doctor is no good if he’s never onsite! I need to stop using so many exclamation points!
Anyway, I finally did get in to see him late this afternoon, right before I left the office early for my second dentist appointment in a month.**** So, antibiotics it is. Hopefully, it will all be cleared up in a few days.
And maybe I won’t be sleeping in the guest room tonight.
*So, maybe about twenty-one, then? I kid, I kid!
**Disgusting? Yes. Effective? Maybe. Something I used worked last night, and I’m just as inclined to thank the olive oil as anything else…
***Which I turned off after the pain subsided a little, and before I fell asleep. Fire safety, people!
**** I was a little worried about how that was going to go, since I figured having someone manhandle the jaw that’s attached to a sore ear wasn’t going to be pleasant. Turns out, a Novocain happy dentist is actually a good thing when you have an earache. Go figure.
I have an ear infection. That’s right, a freaking ear infection. And I’m pretty sure I haven’t had one of these since I was young enough to expect my mom to sit up with me all night while I cried about the pain, and she worked to make it all better.* Let’s just say it’s been awhile. I’m assuming this little earache has something to do with my allergies, since I started feeling some pressure in my ear when the pollen count was through the roof a couple of weeks ago. I thought it would all clear up on its own, but yesterday, my poor ear started to throb a little. Since the situation was obviously getting worse instead of better, I made an appointment with the doctor for Wednesday morning.
Apparently, that’s not good enough for Steve. Apparently, Steve is a little perturbed that I was up several times between 1am and 2am last night, rummaging around for something, anything that would make the pain stop so I could go back to sleep, before finally settling on a nice little cocktail of ibuprofen, warm olive oil in the ear,** and a heating pad on my pillow.*** Apparently, Steve would like to avoid a repeat performance tonight, if he can. Apparently, Steve likes his sleep.
So, he begged me to see the onsite doctor here in the office, for my sake, because he was afraid that it could be something SERIOUS, and it might get WORSE before tomorrow, and I should have it looked at RIGHT AWAY, and OMG, the world is ending. I told him I’d be fine. So, when fear for my safety didn’t work, he tried guilt, with stories of raging contagious ear infections, risks to him, risks to the baby, blah, blah, blah! I told him I’m pretty sure ear infections aren’t contagious, and Google backed me up on this one. At this point, he fully owned up to the fact that he just wants to sleep through the night tonight, and he didn’t need any disturbance from me or my ear.
Hugs and kisses, honey.
In all seriousness, though, I decided to go with it. I don’t want to be up at 1am any more than he does, and honestly, it felt so much worse as the day progressed. But the doctor! He didn’t cooperate! He was away at some meeting all morning! And he wasn’t back when he was supposed to be! I went down to see him twice! They finally said they’d call me when he came back! An onsite doctor is no good if he’s never onsite! I need to stop using so many exclamation points!
Anyway, I finally did get in to see him late this afternoon, right before I left the office early for my second dentist appointment in a month.**** So, antibiotics it is. Hopefully, it will all be cleared up in a few days.
And maybe I won’t be sleeping in the guest room tonight.
*So, maybe about twenty-one, then? I kid, I kid!
**Disgusting? Yes. Effective? Maybe. Something I used worked last night, and I’m just as inclined to thank the olive oil as anything else…
***Which I turned off after the pain subsided a little, and before I fell asleep. Fire safety, people!
**** I was a little worried about how that was going to go, since I figured having someone manhandle the jaw that’s attached to a sore ear wasn’t going to be pleasant. Turns out, a Novocain happy dentist is actually a good thing when you have an earache. Go figure.
Monday, May 17, 2010
Baby’s first freak-out swim.
The weather was supposed to be nice this past weekend. We were looking at mid-80s, mostly sunny, maybe a chance of rain here and there. But mostly, sunny. And humid. Atlanta humid. So we decided to pack up the Durango with the kid and the dogs, and we headed north to the lake. Because she will be spending a lot of time around water while she’s growing up, and Steve and I want to get her acclimated early, we wanted to see how Brigid would react to her first trip to Steve’s parents’ pool.
I’m going to go ahead and spoil the ending of this story for you…she did not react well.
I don’t know if maybe the water was too cold for her, or if there was just too much of it, but, uh, she let us know in a hurry that she was having none of it.
And things started out so well!
We had all of the gear. We were dressed the part!
But, there was still a little hesitation about what was coming.
What isn’t pictured here? The heartbreakingly adorable crumpled face and protruding lower lip that appeared the moment Steve got into the water with her. You know, the look that pretty much guarantees she is going to get anything and everything she wants, because mommy is most definitely not built to withstand all of that cuteness. At least not right now. I hope I get there eventually, though. I would like my child to be a little more well-behaved than my dogs, and I’m assuming giving in to her every time she breaks out the lower lip is not the way to accomplish that.
Also not pictured here? Me running into the pool with a towel to wrap her up and cuddle her until she stopped crying. Shut up. I can still get away with it while she’s this age! I swear I’ll stop by the time she’s ten. Sixteen, at the latest.
Maybe I can convince Steve to be the strict parent in the family.
Ha!
Anyway.
This is what we ended up with…happy baby, not touching the water in any way, shape, or form.
Oh well. Maybe next time…
I’m going to go ahead and spoil the ending of this story for you…she did not react well.
I don’t know if maybe the water was too cold for her, or if there was just too much of it, but, uh, she let us know in a hurry that she was having none of it.
And things started out so well!
We had all of the gear. We were dressed the part!
But, there was still a little hesitation about what was coming.
What isn’t pictured here? The heartbreakingly adorable crumpled face and protruding lower lip that appeared the moment Steve got into the water with her. You know, the look that pretty much guarantees she is going to get anything and everything she wants, because mommy is most definitely not built to withstand all of that cuteness. At least not right now. I hope I get there eventually, though. I would like my child to be a little more well-behaved than my dogs, and I’m assuming giving in to her every time she breaks out the lower lip is not the way to accomplish that.
Also not pictured here? Me running into the pool with a towel to wrap her up and cuddle her until she stopped crying. Shut up. I can still get away with it while she’s this age! I swear I’ll stop by the time she’s ten. Sixteen, at the latest.
Maybe I can convince Steve to be the strict parent in the family.
Ha!
Anyway.
This is what we ended up with…happy baby, not touching the water in any way, shape, or form.
Oh well. Maybe next time…
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Time to try something new...
I am not a runner.
I've tried to become one before, but the drive has never lasted longer than a week.
I've always wanted to be a runner, though. I don't know what it is about the whole thing, but it always looks like it would be a good exercise to pick up. It looks peaceful.* You get to be by yourself and listen to music. And it's all pretty convenient, since you can do it anywhere where there is ground. Plus, my dog would be so happy to get out of the house regularly, I can't even begin to describe it.** So I'm going to give it another shot. I exercise pretty regularly these days, why not try to push myself a little?
So, I bought a new pair of running shoes today. I downloaded a Couch to 5K app onto my iPhone. I'm going to start Monday. And I'm going to spend the next five days carbo loading to prepare.
Wait. What? No. I totally wouldn't do that.
Wish me luck!
*When you stick with a distance less than 26-ish miles, that is. I've seen people at the end of a marathon...peaceful isn't the word I'd use to describe that scene.
**Peyton, that is, not Riley. Riley's going to have to talk Steve into this running thing if she wants in on the action.
I've tried to become one before, but the drive has never lasted longer than a week.
I've always wanted to be a runner, though. I don't know what it is about the whole thing, but it always looks like it would be a good exercise to pick up. It looks peaceful.* You get to be by yourself and listen to music. And it's all pretty convenient, since you can do it anywhere where there is ground. Plus, my dog would be so happy to get out of the house regularly, I can't even begin to describe it.** So I'm going to give it another shot. I exercise pretty regularly these days, why not try to push myself a little?
So, I bought a new pair of running shoes today. I downloaded a Couch to 5K app onto my iPhone. I'm going to start Monday. And I'm going to spend the next five days carbo loading to prepare.
Wait. What? No. I totally wouldn't do that.
Wish me luck!
*When you stick with a distance less than 26-ish miles, that is. I've seen people at the end of a marathon...peaceful isn't the word I'd use to describe that scene.
**Peyton, that is, not Riley. Riley's going to have to talk Steve into this running thing if she wants in on the action.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Does this mean I have to give back my Mother's Day gifts?
Guess who's parents are going to Florida in June, and invited her to go along?
And guess who decided she'd be stupid to pass up the chance to see her family at half the travel time, with a beach thrown in to boot?
And guess who decided to take the baby with her on said trip?
And guess who has a husband that just started a new job in February and is down a couple of vacation days as a result, so he won't be going on the trip to Florida?
And guess who just realized today that the vacation (which is a Wednesday to Wednesday trip) happens to cover the weekend that Father's Day falls on? The first Father's Day for the husband at home and the baby on the beach?
And guess who has two thumbs and feels like a terrible wife?
That's right...this guy!
Oh boy.
------------------------------------------
And in other news, completely unrelated to me and my terrible planning skills...
Happy birthday, Jess! Love you lots! You're my favorite little sister. Just don't tell Mary...
And guess who decided she'd be stupid to pass up the chance to see her family at half the travel time, with a beach thrown in to boot?
And guess who decided to take the baby with her on said trip?
And guess who has a husband that just started a new job in February and is down a couple of vacation days as a result, so he won't be going on the trip to Florida?
And guess who just realized today that the vacation (which is a Wednesday to Wednesday trip) happens to cover the weekend that Father's Day falls on? The first Father's Day for the husband at home and the baby on the beach?
And guess who has two thumbs and feels like a terrible wife?
That's right...this guy!
Oh boy.
------------------------------------------
And in other news, completely unrelated to me and my terrible planning skills...
Happy birthday, Jess! Love you lots! You're my favorite little sister. Just don't tell Mary...
Seven Months (plus, my first Mother’s Day!)
My little bug:
Seven months old! Well, we’re just motoring along, little lady, aren’t we? I swear, I think you grow and change by the day. This was a big month for you, but then again, I think they’re all big months for you, so whatever.
You graduated from single fruit and vegetable meals to meals that include meat this month, and so far, it’s gone well. You’ve loved the turkey (with turkey gravy) and the beef (with beef gravy…see the pattern?), and you seemed relatively accepting of the ham (with, SURPRISE!!!, ham gravy), but you weren’t so much a fan of the chicken (with chicken gravy…honestly, all the food is is gravy…isn’t it redundant to include that in the name?). Considering chicken activated some not so pleasant feelings in me during pregnancy, I wasn’t exactly surprised by that outcome, but there you have it. We’ve also added some mixed fruit concoctions to your diet (Woo! Gerber stage 2!**), and your father stocked us up on some baby juice and yogurt that we’ll probably try next. Despite my arguments that you’re still too young (which are kind of devalued by the fact that the pediatrician doesn’t think you are…), we’ve also tried a Cheerio here and there, and apparently, you’ve had some bread, although I was informed of that after the fact (Promise me that when you’re old enough to try new things out on your own, you won’t follow your dad’s example and tell me after you’ve already done it. Please?). That sippy cup we had so many problems with at the start? You are a master at it now! Well, you’re a master at it when someone is holding it for you, and we can’t get through a meal without a drink of water after every three bites (Maybe because baby food is gross? After your dad accidentally flipped some baby beef in his mouth, he definitely followed it up with a ton of water.). We’re still not entirely there when you hold it for yourself, because it becomes more of a chew toy than a water cup, but it keeps you happy, so we go with it. We do that a lot, actually…if you’re happy, we’re happy.
Except with the whole spitting food habit you’ve picked up. That seems to make you happy (as evidenced by the big grin you get as we try to wipe apples and blueberries or oatmeal out of our hair), but we’re not so much in agreement with you on this one.
We graduated to the big bathtub this month, and you love it. It’s a tricky business, though, and one that almost requires a swimsuit to participate in because you like to splash. A LOT. You also love to do push-ups, and when I come to get you up in the morning or after a nap, you’re usually on your stomach, pushing yourself up so you can see me over the top of your crib. It’s kind of funny, actually, to walk in and see this baby head looking back at you, but it’s probably about time we lower the mattress before you start to pull yourself up and over the railing. We’ve already had to lower your pack’n’play, since you were pulling yourself up on that.
Still no crawling, which doesn’t bother me in the least. You can move your arms, and you can move your legs, but you can’t seem to get the arms and legs going together. Apparently, you inherited your mother’s coordination, so yeah, sorry about that. You’ve developed this really intense baby stare, and it kind of reminds me of those weird paintings where the eyes follow you no matter where you are in a room. You’ve also started giving kisses, but you’ll only do it on your time. There are no kisses on demand, yet, but I’m working on it. Doesn’t matter, though, because surprise kisses from you might be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Actually, I take that back. You lay your head on your daddy’s shoulder when you’re tired, and that is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
You love a good game of peek-a-boo (especially when you’re the one hiding), and you give out high fives when asked, but only when you’re not too tired to play along.
You were a little party animal this month, with one packed social calendar. You celebrated your dad’s favorite four days of the year with him, dressed in the Master’s green, as appropriate. You co-hosted a Derby party where your hat and dress were by far the best of the afternoon. And you attended your first outdoor festival/concert, where you committed your first party foul. Not a bad month of work, I’d say. And you’re only going to get busier with a couple of trips to the beach and some good time on the lake to look forward to.
And to top the whole month off, you gave your mommy the best Mother’s Day smiles a mom could ask for, which I think is the best gift I’ve ever received. And the pretty necklace and spa gift certificate weren’t too shabby, either (although, I’m thinking most of the credit for those gifts goes to your dad, who is sweet and wonderful and awesome in his own right…).
So, happy seven month birthday, Bug! Mommy loves you more than you know.
Also, Happy belated Mother’s Day to all! And a special Happy Mother's Day to my mom, who I couldn't be with this weekend, but who taught me how to be the mother Brigid deserves. I love you Mom!
Oh, Steve. Always full of surprises…
**Yes, Brigid, this is what passes for excitement in our household these days, and no, your mother wasn’t always this lame. We just think everything you do is a big deal, and when we’re embarrassing you in front of your friends somewhere down the road, just remember that our over-excitement started here. Get used to it.
Seven months old! Well, we’re just motoring along, little lady, aren’t we? I swear, I think you grow and change by the day. This was a big month for you, but then again, I think they’re all big months for you, so whatever.
You graduated from single fruit and vegetable meals to meals that include meat this month, and so far, it’s gone well. You’ve loved the turkey (with turkey gravy) and the beef (with beef gravy…see the pattern?), and you seemed relatively accepting of the ham (with, SURPRISE!!!, ham gravy), but you weren’t so much a fan of the chicken (with chicken gravy…honestly, all the food is is gravy…isn’t it redundant to include that in the name?). Considering chicken activated some not so pleasant feelings in me during pregnancy, I wasn’t exactly surprised by that outcome, but there you have it. We’ve also added some mixed fruit concoctions to your diet (Woo! Gerber stage 2!**), and your father stocked us up on some baby juice and yogurt that we’ll probably try next. Despite my arguments that you’re still too young (which are kind of devalued by the fact that the pediatrician doesn’t think you are…), we’ve also tried a Cheerio here and there, and apparently, you’ve had some bread, although I was informed of that after the fact (Promise me that when you’re old enough to try new things out on your own, you won’t follow your dad’s example and tell me after you’ve already done it. Please?). That sippy cup we had so many problems with at the start? You are a master at it now! Well, you’re a master at it when someone is holding it for you, and we can’t get through a meal without a drink of water after every three bites (Maybe because baby food is gross? After your dad accidentally flipped some baby beef in his mouth, he definitely followed it up with a ton of water.). We’re still not entirely there when you hold it for yourself, because it becomes more of a chew toy than a water cup, but it keeps you happy, so we go with it. We do that a lot, actually…if you’re happy, we’re happy.
Except with the whole spitting food habit you’ve picked up. That seems to make you happy (as evidenced by the big grin you get as we try to wipe apples and blueberries or oatmeal out of our hair), but we’re not so much in agreement with you on this one.
We graduated to the big bathtub this month, and you love it. It’s a tricky business, though, and one that almost requires a swimsuit to participate in because you like to splash. A LOT. You also love to do push-ups, and when I come to get you up in the morning or after a nap, you’re usually on your stomach, pushing yourself up so you can see me over the top of your crib. It’s kind of funny, actually, to walk in and see this baby head looking back at you, but it’s probably about time we lower the mattress before you start to pull yourself up and over the railing. We’ve already had to lower your pack’n’play, since you were pulling yourself up on that.
Still no crawling, which doesn’t bother me in the least. You can move your arms, and you can move your legs, but you can’t seem to get the arms and legs going together. Apparently, you inherited your mother’s coordination, so yeah, sorry about that. You’ve developed this really intense baby stare, and it kind of reminds me of those weird paintings where the eyes follow you no matter where you are in a room. You’ve also started giving kisses, but you’ll only do it on your time. There are no kisses on demand, yet, but I’m working on it. Doesn’t matter, though, because surprise kisses from you might be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. Actually, I take that back. You lay your head on your daddy’s shoulder when you’re tired, and that is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
You love a good game of peek-a-boo (especially when you’re the one hiding), and you give out high fives when asked, but only when you’re not too tired to play along.
You were a little party animal this month, with one packed social calendar. You celebrated your dad’s favorite four days of the year with him, dressed in the Master’s green, as appropriate. You co-hosted a Derby party where your hat and dress were by far the best of the afternoon. And you attended your first outdoor festival/concert, where you committed your first party foul. Not a bad month of work, I’d say. And you’re only going to get busier with a couple of trips to the beach and some good time on the lake to look forward to.
And to top the whole month off, you gave your mommy the best Mother’s Day smiles a mom could ask for, which I think is the best gift I’ve ever received. And the pretty necklace and spa gift certificate weren’t too shabby, either (although, I’m thinking most of the credit for those gifts goes to your dad, who is sweet and wonderful and awesome in his own right…).
So, happy seven month birthday, Bug! Mommy loves you more than you know.
Also, Happy belated Mother’s Day to all! And a special Happy Mother's Day to my mom, who I couldn't be with this weekend, but who taught me how to be the mother Brigid deserves. I love you Mom!
Oh, Steve. Always full of surprises…
**Yes, Brigid, this is what passes for excitement in our household these days, and no, your mother wasn’t always this lame. We just think everything you do is a big deal, and when we’re embarrassing you in front of your friends somewhere down the road, just remember that our over-excitement started here. Get used to it.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Enough, already!
So, this picture came to me from my sister-in-law, attached to an email with the subject line 'trying it on her own'.
Apparently, no matter how much I talk about wanting her to slow down with all of this growing and developing and whatnot, she's going to ignore me and do whatever she wants. This does not bode well for the future.
Is it too early to start guilting her into listening to me with stories of pregnancy and labor?
Apparently, no matter how much I talk about wanting her to slow down with all of this growing and developing and whatnot, she's going to ignore me and do whatever she wants. This does not bode well for the future.
Is it too early to start guilting her into listening to me with stories of pregnancy and labor?
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Baby's Night Out
Preface: These stories are the reason I started this blog. I figured if I tried to write about my life every day, I'd remember to remember things like this. Things that are too small for anyone to really care enough about that I'd feel the need to call them and tell them what happened, but things that are really big to me at the time. Someday, I want Brigid to look back on this and know how much Steve and I love her and that we think about her in just about everything we do. And I want to remember how I felt during this whole motherhood thing. Because it goes so fast. And I don't want to forget anything. And in everything that I do, I'm constantly thinking whether it would be something that I can write about, which, oddly enough, brings me more into the moment, and leads me to document things that I wouldn't normally consider worth documenting. All of that said? Last night would have been a perfect night for pictures. And I totally didn't take any.
FAIL!
At least I have a little story to tell...
So. We went out to dinner last night. We went to the same pizza place we always go to, because everybody likes the food, and it’s a pretty baby friendly place. Not such a big deal, right?
WRONG!!!
It was a big freaking deal. Because when I walked in (Steve leaves work before I do, so he went home to gather Brigid and everything that comes with Brigid, and I just met them all at the restaurant), my baby, my sweet little lump of baby, was sitting up in a restaurant provided high chair/booster seat. She was lounging in an awesomely cushy public seat protector thingy (thanks Lori!), but she was just chilling at the table, nonetheless. And then! She proceeded to drink out of a real cup!! Ok, it was a sippy cup, and she’s been doing that for a couple of weeks now, but seeing her do it while sitting at the table in a restaurant? So, so, so SAD! This is the first time we’ve gone out to dinner where it’s involved Brigid in her own seat. We usually take the car seat, and she either hangs out in that, or someone is holding her. I know she’s been sitting in a high chair at home for a couple of months now, but this just seemed different. She seemed so big. I know babies are all fun and whatnot at this age, but it’s all going a little too fast for my taste. Does this ever stop? Not so much the growing part of things (because I kind of already know the answer to that, as much as I hate it), but the freaking out every time something new happens? Eventually, I’ll just resign myself to the fact that babies grow up, and it happens sooner than we’d like. Right? RIGHT?
Maybe it gets easier after the first kid. Maybe once you move on to the second kid, you’re just so busy that you’re happy every time the baby can do something for herself. Or maybe you just keep having kids so you never have to deal with not having the baby around.
Oy. If I end up with 25 kids, at least we’ll know where it all started.
FAIL!
At least I have a little story to tell...
So. We went out to dinner last night. We went to the same pizza place we always go to, because everybody likes the food, and it’s a pretty baby friendly place. Not such a big deal, right?
WRONG!!!
It was a big freaking deal. Because when I walked in (Steve leaves work before I do, so he went home to gather Brigid and everything that comes with Brigid, and I just met them all at the restaurant), my baby, my sweet little lump of baby, was sitting up in a restaurant provided high chair/booster seat. She was lounging in an awesomely cushy public seat protector thingy (thanks Lori!), but she was just chilling at the table, nonetheless. And then! She proceeded to drink out of a real cup!! Ok, it was a sippy cup, and she’s been doing that for a couple of weeks now, but seeing her do it while sitting at the table in a restaurant? So, so, so SAD! This is the first time we’ve gone out to dinner where it’s involved Brigid in her own seat. We usually take the car seat, and she either hangs out in that, or someone is holding her. I know she’s been sitting in a high chair at home for a couple of months now, but this just seemed different. She seemed so big. I know babies are all fun and whatnot at this age, but it’s all going a little too fast for my taste. Does this ever stop? Not so much the growing part of things (because I kind of already know the answer to that, as much as I hate it), but the freaking out every time something new happens? Eventually, I’ll just resign myself to the fact that babies grow up, and it happens sooner than we’d like. Right? RIGHT?
Maybe it gets easier after the first kid. Maybe once you move on to the second kid, you’re just so busy that you’re happy every time the baby can do something for herself. Or maybe you just keep having kids so you never have to deal with not having the baby around.
Oy. If I end up with 25 kids, at least we’ll know where it all started.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Conversations from last night's concert...
Before the concert
Me: I love you, but I think I should have held out for someone a little dirtier or scruffier than you.
Steve: I didn't wear deoderant today, if that helps.
------------------------------------------
During band #1
Me: If this band was a little older, I'd totally have a crush on the lead singer. He has great hair. But I don't, because it would be a felony.
------------------------------------------
During band #2
Me: I love this band. They're like Elvis, if Elvis played hard rock.
Steve: So they're nothing like Elvis?
------------------------------------------
Steve: Every heavy metal band should just do covers of hair ballads.
------------------------------------------
During band #3
Steve: Hey, is that Kristin Stewart up there singing?
Me: Um, no. But I think she totally looks like that Carly chick from American Idol a couple of seasons ago.
Steve (after playing with his iPhone for a few minutes): That's because it is that Carly chick from American Idol up there.
Me: Huh. I'm a little embarrassed that I knew that.
------------------------------------------
During band #4
Steve: I just told people we were coming to see your favorite heavy metal band.
Me: They're not heavy metal, they sing love songs.
Steve: They sing about death.
Me: Yes, love songs about death.
Steve: Heavy metal is just easier to say.
------------------------------------------
Me: I love you, but I think I should have held out for someone a little dirtier or scruffier than you.
Steve: I didn't wear deoderant today, if that helps.
------------------------------------------
During band #1
Me: If this band was a little older, I'd totally have a crush on the lead singer. He has great hair. But I don't, because it would be a felony.
------------------------------------------
During band #2
Me: I love this band. They're like Elvis, if Elvis played hard rock.
Steve: So they're nothing like Elvis?
------------------------------------------
Steve: Every heavy metal band should just do covers of hair ballads.
------------------------------------------
During band #3
Steve: Hey, is that Kristin Stewart up there singing?
Me: Um, no. But I think she totally looks like that Carly chick from American Idol a couple of seasons ago.
Steve (after playing with his iPhone for a few minutes): That's because it is that Carly chick from American Idol up there.
Me: Huh. I'm a little embarrassed that I knew that.
------------------------------------------
During band #4
Steve: I just told people we were coming to see your favorite heavy metal band.
Me: They're not heavy metal, they sing love songs.
Steve: They sing about death.
Me: Yes, love songs about death.
Steve: Heavy metal is just easier to say.
------------------------------------------
Monday, May 3, 2010
So this is what 'no part of the planning process' means?
What happens when you decide that the Kentucky Derby seems like as good of an excuse as any to have people over to the house for a low-key cook-out that your husband claims he wants no part of planning? Then your husband decides that burgers and chips and a vegetable tray and assorted carbonated beverages and horses on the big screen do not a proper Derby party make? You end up with a set of these:
You also end up with a stuffed Secretariat doll as your centerpiece and cardboard shavings around the house from a motorized hat of the horses running the Derby, put together by the same husband who wanted no part of the planning. And mint juleps. And leftover Derby pie. And 75 pounds of meat from the Sausage Chalet. Because they’re only open one Saturday a month! And there’s a minimum purchase amount if you use a debit card! And plain old burgers just don’t cut it around here. It’s like that time I wanted to bake and decorate Christmas cookies, but Steve decided I didn’t put enough effort into the icing of the cookies, so he took over. And I took them into work, and everyone talked about how great they looked. Just like professional cookies from a bakery! And Steve was all smug. And all I could think was, they’d have tasted just as good my way, and it wouldn’t have taken an entire day to decorate them!
Of course, because every girl needs an outfit to match her Derby hat, you also end up with this:
And really, who doesn’t want more of that?
Well done, Steve. Well done.
You also end up with a stuffed Secretariat doll as your centerpiece and cardboard shavings around the house from a motorized hat of the horses running the Derby, put together by the same husband who wanted no part of the planning. And mint juleps. And leftover Derby pie. And 75 pounds of meat from the Sausage Chalet. Because they’re only open one Saturday a month! And there’s a minimum purchase amount if you use a debit card! And plain old burgers just don’t cut it around here. It’s like that time I wanted to bake and decorate Christmas cookies, but Steve decided I didn’t put enough effort into the icing of the cookies, so he took over. And I took them into work, and everyone talked about how great they looked. Just like professional cookies from a bakery! And Steve was all smug. And all I could think was, they’d have tasted just as good my way, and it wouldn’t have taken an entire day to decorate them!
Of course, because every girl needs an outfit to match her Derby hat, you also end up with this:
And really, who doesn’t want more of that?
Well done, Steve. Well done.
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