Tag Archives: motherhood

The Hummers

Posted in Animals, Children, Faith, Family by

I overheard them talking in the doctor’s office a few weeks ago.

You need to get ready for them.

They’re here.

We saw some at our place yesterday. 

Hummingbirds.

So I heeded their advice and went to The Walmarts to buy a couple of feeders.  I googled how to make sugar water (4 parts water to 1 part sugar), and I filled my feeders and hung them on the patio.

I doubted they would come.  Just because I doubt most good things will come in my life.  It’s a huge weakness in my character.  But lo and behold, as Emma Kate and I were outside enjoying the day, the dogs, and the chickens, they came.  They did!  Two of them hummed their way over to the feeders and got a drink.

I was thrilled.  Absolutely thrilled.  I ran to get my camera and of course, as in the way things happen, they flitted away to the trees.  I could still hear them tweeting and buzzing around, but they wouldn’t come to the feeders again.

I waited and waited and waited.  Some might find waiting on the hummingbirds tedious and boring, their minds filled with a laundry list of to-do’s that they would rather be doing, but the simplicity of the afternoon overtook me and as I waited on the hummingbirds, I sat in the sun and let it warm me all the way to my insides.  There’s something healing about a little sunshine warming the innermost.

I watched my darling daughter play in the animal’s drinking water.  We have a waterer for the chickens and a big bowl for the dogs, but they don’t seem to understand the distinction, so the dogs drink after the chickens and the chickens drink after the dogs, and Emma Kate drinks after both.  It’s good for the immune system I say.

She got pine needles and dunked them through the water and sucked the moisture off, she splashed, and she laughed.  And the laughter from a little child on a sunshiny spring day is music to the ears.

She herded chickens and hugged them from behind and Grace, our heeler dog, herded right along with her.  Ever vigilant to protect Emma from chicken danger.  Meanwhile, Drew, who’s a couple milkbones short of a full box, chewed on a pink bone and didn’t ever once feel his manhood threatened.  Real dogs chew pink bones.

And finally as the day drew to a close, and the sun dipped behind the house, and the shadows grew longer, I got a halfway decent picture of a hummingbird.  But my true treasure is the several decent pictures I got of a simple day in the backyard that soothed and healed my soul.

DSC_2125 DSC_2126 DSC_2149 DSC_2165 DSC_2163 DSC_2158

Breastfeeding

Posted in Family by

When our little girl was born, she had to go to the NICU.  We had had a very difficult labor, not like all labor and deliveries aren’t difficult, but if my memory serves me correctly, it was no walk in the park.  They ended up taking me for a C-section.  They were concerned about the amount of meconium (first fetal poop often caused by distress) in the amniotic fluid and if she were to aspirate it into her lungs, it could cause serious problems.

I remember lying there on the surgery table and feeling such an awesome bond to my anesthesiologist who sat at my head.  He talked to me and answered my questions about what was going on.   Of course J-Dub was there and a team of doctors and nurses working together like a well oiled machine.  I asked the anesthesiologist, “Have they started cutting yet?”  And he replied, “You’re wide open.”   There was a bunch of tugging and violent pulling, and then there was Emma Kate.  I remember Jason repeating over and over, “She’s fine.  She’s fine.  She’s fine.”

DSC_1452

And I heard her cry.  Then they showed her to me, and she was fine.   I remember asking the nurse if I could see my placenta, because I wanted to see my baby’s life source for the past 41 weeks.  She held up a pink hospital basin with a lot of green tissue in it.  She told me it was so green because of the meconium.

The next thing I remember I was lying on a bed in a room with a lady sitting across from me.  Not even a hospital room, but more like a staff work room.  There were lockers against one wall, and hospital people would come through and exit a door across the way.  The round woman sat against the lockers on a rolling chair, her big arms resting on her stomach.

“What are you doing?”  I asked her when I was awakening from my fog.
“Watching you,” she answered. “
“Why?”
“To make sure you wake up and recover,” she said.
“What a boring job you have.”  I told her.
“Sometimes,” she agreed.

We sat there, she staring at me while I drifted in and out of sleep.

Then Jason came in, squatted by my head and told me they were taking Emma Kate to the NICU because she was having trouble breathing, and a doctor followed him in the room rolling her in her little isolette.  She was lying in there, swaddled in a blanket, with a little cap on her head, and I could hear her grunting with each breath.  He explained that they originally thought everything was okay, but then she began grunting, and they wanted to give her some oxygen and get her breathing regularly.  She was then rolled away from her mama, away from the very person she needed to be nearest.  I had only gotten to touch her once and wouldn’t be able to touch her again for several hours.

We had to wait nearly 24 hours before we could hold her.  And then nearly 48 hours before she could breast feed.   When we finally nursed, I wrote on my facebook wall that she was like “a hog at the trough”.  She looked like a bird in the nest getting a worm from her mama, her mouth rooting around searching desperately for the milk that would sustain her.  The nurse on duty remarked, “She’s going to be a breast baby, I can tell it.  Look how big she opens her mouth.”

Breast baby is a more professional way of saying titty baby, which is what she was and still is.  We didn’t have the breast feeding problems many other mothers have: not being able to latch on, not producing enough, the pain, the tenderness.  In fact,  my biggest problem was that I was a milk machine.  Abundant milk supply.  When my body finally told my “bottles” how much they needed to produce, it got much easier.

I believe as strongly in the benefits of breast milk as I believe in the Holy Trinity.  Powerful stuff.  I wanted Emma to have breast milk, but I didn’t know how long I would actually last nursing EK.  I knew it was in her best interest, even if it was a pain for me.  I thought I would try it for about 3 months, then 3 months turned  to 6 and 6 turned into 9, the more time passed the easier it became, and today at 12.5 months we are still breastfeeding.  There have been so many times in the past year I have felt tied down and trapped.  I couldn’t leave her for more than 3 hours at a time.   There were times when everyone ate supper except me because I was nursing the baby in the next room.  There was the loss of sleep, the 7 weeks of pumping during my lunch break and conference time  when I returned to work, then afterwards the refusal to take a bottle, so back to not being able to leave her for more than 3 hours.  It has been a huge sacrifice, HUGE, but I’m glad that I endured.

Now the weaning process begins.  She has a terrible sleep/nurse association thinking she needs to nurse in order to sleep, waking up several times a night.  It just finally became too much for me.  I know that I am way behind, but I just night weaned her 4 days ago.    She is waking less and less and actually slept 9 hours the other night, straight through with no wakings. This is huge for us!!!   I was up at 4:00 a.m.  twiddling my thumbs, but at least everyone else got a good nights sleep.  I should have night weaned her months ago, but was just too concerned that she might actually be hungry or was usually too tired to attempt to wean.

So now she’s sleeping more, eating more solid foods and relying on breast milk less and less.  The past year my sleep deprived, breast engorged, nursing bra-clad self has longed for this moment.  Getting my freedom back.  Getting my hormones back.  Getting my bra size back (maybe not a good thing).   And now that it’s here,  yes you guessed it, I’m a little sad.   My little  baby is growing up.  As trying as breast feeding is, it is also a precious time of bonding, cuddling, gazing into your baby’s face.  And now this season is ending for us.  The next season stands in waiting, peeking from behind the curtain, watching for its cue to enter stage right.  Even though I know I shouldn’t, I will complain about that season too.  I will long for it to end, whatever it be.  Somedays I will wish it away, wish her on to the next season.

Then a day will come when it is gone too, and I will sit with my memories.

For in the end, that is all we really have.

 

Just the beginning

Posted in Children by

She’s barely one.

And I’m pretty sure I’m in over my head.

When she’s sleeping, I’ve got it made.  Piece of cake.

DSC_2098

But when she’s awake, she’s really trying to run the show around here.  Already.   At the end of some days, I need a 3 day vacation.  But alas, this is a 24/7 job I’ve signed up for.  Just hand me another coffee please.

She stiffens her legs, arches her back, and throws back her head when I try to put her in her high chair.     Then once I’ve wrestled her in,  in order to have the advantage on me, she throws all her food off her tray.  Is this typical one year old behavior?  Is she just not hungry?  Is she a brat?

I wonder what I’m supposed to do.  Should I break her spirit?  Force her to do everything that I, the all-knowing mother, think necessary?  Because really.  I’m kind of new at this too.

DSC_2085

We fight tooth and nail.  She usually wins right and left.

She is nineteen pounds of sheer determination.

DSC_2089

If she had her ‘druthers, she would walk around with a naked hiney, a dirty face, eating goldfish crackers and watching Elmo all day.  And then I’d be raising a wretch.

But whose to say I’m not.

IMG_1507

Mama knows best.  Well, about some things anyway, for instance children shouldn’t pee on the floor and occasionally they should eat a fruit.

I might not know much, but at least I know that.

DSC_2085

I’m hoping she’s receiving some vitamins and nutrients from the dirt she eats, because she’s rather fond of that too.

IMG_1504

She is a busy girl.  And this is her childhood.  The only one she’ll ever have.  The one she’ll look back on with either fondness or dismay.  The one that will shape her. The Nurture to help balance her Nature.   It’s kind of a big deal when you think of it.

IMG_1499

She’s exploring, discovering, and learning.   As all children should be allowed to do. Within reason, of course.

IMG_1506

While she’s busy growing up, I am  busy watching, worrying, and trying to find the fine line between interfering or giving her the space she needs to become the independent little girl that she is becoming.

And  trying desperately not to raise a wretch.

12 months

Posted in Children, Family by

It’s unbelievable.

It’s inconceivable.

It’s unfathomable.

I’m sitting up in bed with you sleeping soundly beside me,  studying your precious face and shaking my head in disbelief.  Can this really be true?

One year, Emma Kate.  One year.

DSC_2102

This time last year, after a serious ordeal of labor and delivery, you made your appearance and have been a joy to me every single day since.

Let me tell you a little about yourself.  First off, nearly every recent picture I have of you is blurry because you are on the go all the time.  You took your first wobbly steps almost 4 weeks ago, and now you are practically running.

You love songs, books, babies, dogs, fish, cats,  bath, outside, and your momma.

You dislike someone trying to feed you, laying still to get your diaper changed, having something taken from you, sleeping alone, and being left with strangers.

You can talk a blue streak.  Some new words you began saying this month are juice, more, fish, Elmo, Emma, and no, no, no.

You love to talk on the phone and often have someone’s cell phone up to your ear pretending.  You like to put things in little hidey holes too.  I opened the pots and pan cabinet and found a sippy cup and found a sock in a cereal box.

A blurry picture of you with your necklace.

A blurry picture of you with your necklace.

Your daddy thinks you might be a girly-girl because you love bracelets and necklaces and wear them around the house.  Even if it’s not a “real” necklace, you turn it into one.  You were wearing a cell phone cord around your neck, dragging it on the ground the other day, and you’ll put anything on your wrist that’s circular and then walk around holding your arm up so it rests on the crook of your elbow.

IMG_1447

You like to watch Elmo’s World and sing the Barney song with your Grandy.  When she starts singing, you begin to sway back and forth and give a big hug (with a grunt) and blow a kiss too.

You’re really super affectionate mostly and pat the people you love on the check and give kisses and hugs.  But with people you don’t know very well, you are reserved and solemn, barely cracking a smile or interacting, but instead sitting back and watching.

You make us laugh all the time at your new antics.  And I love to watch you walk.  You have this funny side-step-shuffle with your elbows bent upward.  You also learned to drink from a straw this month.

You still only have 6 teeth, your eyes are big and beautiful,  you are cute as a bug, and you have learned how to really cry hard when you aren’t getting something you want or something is being taken away from you.

You still don’t sleep all night long, but I guess there’s worse things in life, and we’ll all survive.  We’ve made it 12 months so far, I’m sure a few more months won’t kill us.

This past year, you have taught me  to love more than I ever knew I was capable of.  You have taught me to savor the moments because they vanish so quickly.  You have taught me to see the world with the same kind of newness you do, and to adore chubby little bellies and dimpled hands.   You are my baby girl.  And even though your first year is now behind us, and we are moving into toddlerhood, you will always, always be my baby.

I love you so very much sweet one.

XOXO,

Mama

10 months

Posted in Children by

My dearest, sweet, little Emma Kate,

You are 10 months old baby.  It is nothing short of mind-boggling.  10 months!!  Part of me aches to watch you grow so fast.  Some days I long for that newborn who slept and cooed and watched the world behind those beautiful eyes.  But then the other part of me can’t wait to see you grow.  To watch you accomplish all that you can.  I try to cherish each and every day, even when they seem monotonous.  But they really aren’t.  You learn something new everyday.  You may not be a newborn anymore, but you still watch the world from behind your beautiful eyes and it is fascinating to see you learn.

You are straight up adorable.  That’s all there is to it.  You started singing this month.  Your Grandy and Ash taught you to sing  ”la, la, la”.

You do motions to The Itsy Bitsy Spider, and you really wash that spider out!  And the sun comes out with your little arms reaching way up to the top of your beautiful head.  You are all grins too.  You are sure proud of yourself when you do something big like that.

You clap your hands along with “When you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands”, and you still love your books.  You’re favorite has always been Pete the Cat–I Love My White Shoes.  Your Grandy bought you a Pete the Cat stuffed doll and your aunt Jo got you Pete the Cat–Rocking My School Shoes and you love reading them with somebody or by yourself.

You’ve learned how to open drawers and cabinets this month and empty them completely out.  Now, you need to learn how to put it all back!

You can say mama, dada, bye-bye, night night, num-num (which means yum yum) and you started saying “Ash” plain as day.  It is adorable!  Now you just say it all day long.  You definitely understand everything we say to you.  When I ask you “Where’s Ash?”  You start looking towards her bedroom here trying to find her.   You can comb your hair and brush your teeth (in a perfect 10 month old way), drink from a cup (with not much spilled down the front), feed yourself with a spoon and fork (when we load it up of course), and give hugs and kisses.

Pulling up has become old hat to you now, and just this week you’ve started standing alone for longer periods– like about 8 seconds.  Might not be sound long, but it is when you’re balancing huh baby?  Or riding a bull, which you will never ever attempt, just so you know.  I just felt like we needed to get that established right here and now.  You walk all around holding on to things, like the couch, the end tables, your crib.  Just like what you’ll do in the swimming pool in a few years.   You love to explore and you climb the porch steps up to the door.

You are a good-natured girl who knows what she wants and doesn’t want.  You don’t let anyone persuade you to do something you don’t want to do, which isn’t fun when getting your diaper changed, but will play an important role when you are a teenager.

You are beautiful, smart, happy, and loved beyond measure.

We take great delight in you, Emmy.  You are our girl!

XOXO,

Mama

Sleeping on the Floor Part 1

Posted in Children by

I have a great mattress.  It’s one of those Sleep Numbers, where you can adjust the firmness.  A few years ago, J-Dub and I pranced into the mall with a credit card and succumbed to a sales pitch.

Impulse Buying + Credit Cards = The American Way, right?

I can’t remember my sleep number;  I can barely remember my birthday, much less the 42 different passwords stored in my brain for various accounts etc.   I usually have to ask J-Dub what my sleep number is.  For some reason he always knows, or makes one up just to fake me out.  Heck, I wouldn’t know the difference.  I did consider having it tattooed on my butt, but then I’d have to get a mirror to look, and to be frank, my butt isn’t much to gaze upon, even for myself.   I thought maybe I should tattoo it on my wrist, but then people might think I’m a concentration camp survivor or at the very least, a state penitentiary parolee in which case if I were a male state penitentiary parolee, my butt might have gotten noticed.

I guess it doesn’t really matter what my sleep number is since the last 3 nights I’ve slept on the floor.

In the baby’s nursery.

On a makeshift bed of couch cushions, my pillow, and a blanket.

You see, my little babe, she is utterly adorable.  She is.  She is also utterly awake most nights.  It’s not that she doesn’t go to sleep.  She does.  It’s just that she doesn’t STAY asleep.

So like a good mother, I’ve read.  I’ve researched.  I’ve investigated.  And I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s All.My. Fault.  It is.

Now I won’t take responsibility for her behavior if she robs a bank, but for this, I am the culprit.

She used to be a good sleeper.  When she was a wee one, she slept very well.  She would sleep in her crib.  She would go to sleep without being nursed or rocked.  She awoke and laid in her crib peacefully at times.

And then, then I screwed her up.

I took all the things I knew I was supposed to do, and didn’t do them.

“Swaddle her?” I scoffed.  ”She gets too hot, she’s too confined, she doesn’t like it.”

“Let her sleep in her own bed?”  I laughed.  ”But she’s so little, I need her, she needs me, she grows so fast, I’ll miss this.”

“Let her cry?”  I exclaimed.  ”She feel afraid, abandoned, and become untrusting.”

“Be consistent?” I remarked.  ”What about our free spirits?  Schedules, shmedules.  Routines, shmoutines.”

And so, the saga began.  She slept in our bed, at whatever times we traipsed to bed, and when she made the tiniest whimper, I comforted; two, three, sometimes four times each night.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and before I knew it, I had an 8 month old in the bed standing at the headboard, or crawling on top of us while we tried to sleep, or kneading us in the back with her pointy little feet as she laid crosswise in the bed.  And as I lay there one night with her trying to suck my nose, I imagined our lives a year, two years down the road.  I saw a little toddler, upside down, feet in our face, whining ‘tickle my back, can I lay on your arm, I need a drink of water’, all the while wiggling, squiggling, and causing a ruckus.

You see, I like to sleep.  I enjoy it.  It’s practically the only fun I have in my life.  Take that from me, and I have nothing.  I am nothing.  So I stood on my exhausted two feet and made my valiant cry of, “ENOUGH!  THIS MUST STOP!”

And it hasn’t been easy.  Nay, nay.  We are currently on day 6 of a real effort to get her to sleep in her crib. (with 3 days of inconsistency when we were out of town).  That’s the first step.  Then comes sleeping with no feedings, next will be sleeping without me in the room.  I have my work cut out for me, but am beginning the process of undoing my doings.   The first night, I took expert advice to lay her down every time she stood in her crib, and then I counted the attempts.

No, not twenty times.

No, not thirty-three times.

No, not even one hundred twenty times.

But 133 times.  One hundred thirty-three times I laid her down.  And one hundred thirty-three times she pulled her weary self back up again.  Can you say torture?  For her.  For me.

Were there tears?  Oh my, yes.  Many tears.  Hers and mine.

She finally fell asleep crying and exhausted.

Like this.

She stayed asleep about 30 minutes, but who can blame her?  Could you sleep like that?  Can you even sit like that?

And now, since this post is becoming a novella and is only partially complete, I will end here and continue with our experimental research sleep training documentation tomorrow.  Hopefully.  If my bleary eyes can see the keyboard.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

8 months

Posted in Children by

Hey sweet Emma!

You’re a little doll, dear.  As beautiful as ever, and growing so big.

For a while now you’ve been belly crawling, but this month you decided to try out the old hand and knee crawl.  It’s still a bit clumsy, and you really only do it when you don’t have a shirt on.  I don’t think you like the feel of the hardwood on your belly.  But you still prefer the “wounded soldier” crawl and drag one leg behind you.  You’re pretty fast at it too!  You certainly don’t let many things stop you either, that’s why your daddy calls you his little 4 X 4.  It’s so fun watching you explore your new world, and learning to be so independent.

You are pulling yourself up now to every surface that you can reach.  The ottoman, the dining room chairs, the toy box, the drawers in the kitchen, and mostly my pant legs.  You are a brave little thing, taking one hand off while standing up.  You think you are much bigger than you really are.  But I love your confidence and hope you always keep it, with humility of course.

Although your only 8 months old, the tag in your clothes says 12 months!  Thankfully, you haven’t had to go to the doctor since your 6 month check-up, so we don’t know how much you “officially” weigh, but when we weigh you, our scales here say about 19 pounds.

You have 2 new teeth, but you are a nonconformist, and decided instead of getting your two upper teeth like you’re supposed to, you might as well be a vampire for Halloween, and have cut one fang, and are working on the other.

Have I ever told you how smart you are?  Your mind works constantly.  You are super observant, and want to know how things work, like your car seat buckle, which I’m afraid you are certainly going to figure out.  You are trying real hard to patty cake right now, and I know you understand everything I say.  You yourself are a jabber box too.  You have all kinds of new sounds, you can say bye-bye and are practicing wiggling your fingers.  You talk all the time and I wish I knew your language.

I am trying real hard to be the best mommy I can.  Sometimes it’s frustrating because I don’t have an instruction manual for you, and I’m not sure if I’m making the right decisions.  Please always know you are loved immeasurably, dear one and I’m always thinking of you.

I love you!

XOXO,

Mama

 

 

Under the weather

Posted in Children by

It’s September 15th, or is it the 14th?  Regardless of the number on the calendar, it is my favorite time of year.  It’s a dreary, overcast day and my thoughts bounce around randomly, like an annoying fly trying to find a place to light, but never satisfied for long.

I’m feeling a tad under the weather, which seems fitting with the forecast.  I want to curl up in bed with a book and hide all day.  I would too, if I didn’t have a 7 month old competing for my attention.  She’s a bit under the weather too, and just wants to be held, but doesn’t want to sit still once I pick her up.  She’s obsessed with reaching and grabbing everything from the side table, attempting to climb on top of my head, or rubbing her face frantically in my chest, smearing snot all over my fourteen dollar sweatshirt.  Desperate for a reprieve to blow my nose,  I did the bad mom thing.  I turned on the TV.

As most of you probably know, we don’t have TV.  I can see you scratching your head now.  How can I turn it on, if we don’t have it you ask?  Well, we have an actual TV, but we have no cable, or satellite, or even rabbit ears.  We do own a DVD though, so I dug through stacks of exercise tapes, sneezing and coughing as the piles of dust billowed, and discovered a cartoon belonging to my niece.  Kung Fu Panda.

Since EK only gets TV time when we’re visiting someones house or when she’s watching Blazing Saddles with her dad, which is so appropriate I might add, I thought this was a win-win situation.

I imagined her in a TV daze while I vegged out in an antihistamine induced state of mind on the couch.

Turns out, she doesn’t care too much for pandas.  Or Kung Fu.  A matter of fact, I think I heard her say, “Pandas?  We don’t need no stinking pandas.”

I’m left with no other option but to sit here with EK on my head, watching a cartoon mouse with a Fu Man Chu do jujitsu, using the sleeve of my sweatshirt to wipe my nose.  Good thing it only cost fourteen dollars.

 

 

The toughest job

Posted in Children by

When I was a teacher, just a few short months ago, I used to believe teaching was the hardest profession there was.  In fact, I’ve been known to tell people that very thing.

Now that I’m a stay-at-home-mom, I have changed my opinion and believe mommy hood is the hardest job there is.

More than likely if I was an artist, I’d think that was the hardest profession to be had.

The toughest job, I’ve discovered, is the one I’m presently working.

Suzanne gave me a devotional book for moms.  ”A Time-Out for Busy Moms”.   I’m not sure if that really exists.  The book was in good condition when I first received it, but now the edges are ruffled and torn, tiny bite marks have dried the corners.  When I sit down to read it, EK is usually in her  favorite spot, my lap, and she would rather chew on it than let me read it.

She is a blessing and a challenge.  The simplest things are no longer simple.  Showers, toilet breaks, eating.  She has no regard for my basic needs.  She is an infant.  A selfish, needy, narcissistic little baby, just like every other baby that was ever invented.  She is at my feet when I fix a cup of coffee or when I wash the dishes.  If I walk away, she scuttles after me dragging her leg like a little hermit crab calling “mama, mama, mama”.  When she’s not at my feet or on my lap or in my arms, I must watch her like a hawk.  She’s exploring and discovering and learning things the hard way, like how a mousetrap feels on her little fingers.  All this, and we’re not even in the difficult age yet.  Give her enough time and she will be putting Cheerios in the toilet and displaying her artwork with permanent markers and nail polish on the dining room table.

To date, the biggest mess she’s managed is unloading about 15 wipies one by one, only after tasting each one first.

 

And yes, I took a picture.

I know other moms have this thing figured out.  They are doing a better job of it I know.  Their babies sleep through the night.  In their own beds to boot.  They eat their veggies and take a bottle so their mamas can leave them for more than three hours at a time.

I ain’t gonna lie, it’s a tough gig, and I’m doing the best I can.

Today she fell asleep in my lap and I was able to pick up my mommy devotional book.  We rocked while I read and it was one of the most peaceful and gratifying moments I could experience.  As I gazed down at her sleeping face, the corners of her mouth turned upwards and a small smile spread across her mouth. I imagined the angels were whispering in her ear.  I couldn’t help but smile too.

In the big scheme of things, this baby stage is such a short time in the span of her years.  Instead of wishing this and wishing that, I need to learn to appreciate every nuance and detail.   Before you know it we’ll be driving her to college.

I’m sure when I leave her in the dorm room, she won’t be the one crying then.

Day 1: Reporting In

Posted in Children by

I consider today my first day on the job as an official SAHM.

I was tired by 9:30.

Last week was actually the first week of summer vacation, but my sister and her two rug rats drove down from New Mexico and spent the week with us.  So, of course, the house didn’t get cleaned, boxes from my classroom didn’t get put away, and EK was not on a schedule (as if she’s ever been).  J-Dub also had some family drive in for the weekend, so I can assure you EK was extremely neglected with all the company.  But now the aunts and cousins have all returned to their normal routines, and the baby and I are trying to find our normal routine, if one even exists.

This is my favorite picture as of now.

Tomorrow I’m sure I’ll have another.

I love this picture because that is the image of the baby of my dreams.  A calm, quite, studious daughter who can be found with her nose in a book.

My mom bought EK these 12 little Disney board books. We began reading and EK took the book and put it in a perfect hold.  I had to take a quick snap with the camera, as it didn’t last long.

For the past 4 months, we’ve wondered what kind of a kid EK is going to be.  What kind of an adult?  What kind of a an overall human being.  As much as I’d love to snuggle up in bed on Saturday and read books together, I’m beginning to get the feeling she isn’t going to want to be still for very long.

I know you have all said she has been alert since the day she was born, and it’s true.  Even now, she won’t hardly sleep because she’s afraid she’s going to miss something.  Nursing is beginning to present yet another challenge as she pops her head up and looks around at the slightest sound.  Even snapping her picture while she naps awakens her.

She kicks her little legs  fiercely and pedals a million miles a day on her imaginary bicycle.

She’s a little roly poly now too as she’s learned how to roll across the room.  I lay her on her blanket, leave the room for 1 minute (I swear) and she’s across the room chewing on the vacuum cleaner cord.

I’ve spent my first day as a SAHM trying to clean the floors since she’s on the move.  Because you see, I have this shedding problem.  It’s my hair.  It comes out in GOBS.  It’s probably an undiagnosed medical condition of some sort, and it is totally gross when you pick up your baby and have to grab long brown hair out of her wet little fists and off her wet little chin.  I know…..Grody, Gross, Gross.

On the bright side, I’m looking forward to the weight loss when I’m chasing her around the house.
A girl can dream anyway, can’t she?

On the go or sleeping, she’s a dollbaby.  That’s all there is to it.  Her personality is beginning to emerge and even if she isn’t that calm, quiet, studious child; she’s mine.

And I couldn’t be happier.