EKW – Page 4 – Angel Wheeler

A day in the backyard with 5 chickens and two dogs

Today the weather is agreeable. The skies are a cobalt blue with an occasional fluffy cumulus cloud in the distance. The wind is slight. It’s still chilly enough to need a coat, but when you find a good place to sit in the sun, your insides begin to warm and your heart smiles.

As does your mouth. Me and little britches went outside to enjoy it for a while. The chickens were making an awful ruckus earlier in the day and I thought we’d better scout for eggs in case they’re laying willy nilly as they are prone to do.

In case you’re new here, my backyard is home to 5 wonderful chickens, two dogs and an occasional visit by me and my girl, EK.

That’s Drew, wanting his belly rubbed. It’s a dog’s life.

The dogs are sweet, albeit a bit rambunctious. And EK is a bit leery of their wagging tails, licking tongues, and overall ambitious nature.

Our girl dog, Grace, is a heeler/shepherd. A tad on the hyper side, a herder of all chickens, and may I add that she also is in heat. It’s important to the story, trust me.

She loves Emma. She just doesn’t understand her boundaries.

She wants to love on her but outweighs her by about 25 pounds.

Emma is always glad to see the dogs, as long as she’s in someone’s arms, safe and protected. I set her on the ground and told those dogs NO, and allowed the morning to progress. Drew is content chewing on a stick but Grace wants to see EK up close and personal and Emma was happy to see her.

Right until Grace rolled over on her back begging for a belly rub, bumped Emma and made her fall down. I of course, did my parental duty and ran right over to brush away the tears and scold the dog, but not before I snapped a picture or two. Not to worry, she was unscathed.

Time passed. A chicken wandered over, Grace followed.

Emma fretted, but was relieved when Grace herded the chicken along and ignored the need for a belly rub.

It’s okay, Emma. It’s ok.

Later, a new dog entered our backyard through a bad spot in the fence. A small black, high jumping dog.

We had gone inside but spotted him through the window. Was he after the chickens?

Nope. Just Grace.

We (as in J-Dub) ran him off twice, then we (as in J-Dub) fixed the bad spot in the fence.

Who knows. In a few months, the backyard may be home to five wonderful chickens, two dogs, and a passel of puppies.

All wanting their bellies rubbed.

Authors note: I started this post when EK was asleep, then she woke up and sat in my lap here at the computer. I showed her the pictures and she said “Emma” “bock, bock” “Drew” and when she saw Grace she said, “NO, NO, NO”. And then “night night”. She’s so precious.

Breastfeeding

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.”

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

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.

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.

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

She is nineteen pounds of sheer determination.

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.

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.

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

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.

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

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.

The Party

Our baby girl turned one.

We drove to Texas early to celebrate with our family and close friends.

Here’s Emma Kate with her Grandy, who loves her so much. Let me tell you how much Grandy loves Emma. My mom (Grandy) never, and I mean NEVER allows her picture to be made. Except with Emma. Now that’s love, right there.

I tried to keep the party as simple as possible, and discovered that birthdays can easily get out of hand, and my stress level can easily go through the roof, with tears easily running down my cheeks.

Emma Kate loves Pete the Cat, especially “I Love My White Shoes”. So with a little help from Pinterest and more experienced mothers who have gone before me, we went with a Pete the Cat theme.

Let me tell you how much Pete the Cat loves his white shoes. He loves his shoes when they are white, but then he steps in a pile of strawberries and they turn red. Instead of boohooing, Pete just loves his red shoes instead. And when he steps in a pile of blueberries and they turn blue, instead of pitching a fit, he just loves his blue shoes. Then he steps in a pile of mud and you guessed it. He loves his shoes brown. Then he steps in a bucket of water and they turn all white again, but then they are wet! But it’s all good with Pete and he loves his wet shoes too.

Of course we needed strawberries and blueberries. We had a little chocolate pudding for the mud, and then just some one year old friendly foods like crackers and goldfish, with some grown-up friendly food like sandwiches

I was planning on cake balls and a cake, but making the cake turned into a fiasco. A fiasco, I say.

Mostly because I procrastinate, and because I am so NOT Betty Crocker, I can barely get the stove turned on. It would make more sense to order a cake, but somewhere in my perfectionist mind, I needed to make the cake myself, knowing good and well it wouldn’t be perfect.

Of course I found a recipe that involved way too many tricks and steps, of course I had to run to Walmart that day, of course at 1:00 I still didn’t have a cake made when the party was at three, of course tears were dripping into the batter as I frantically mixed and folded egg whites and sifted flour.

The icing turned out to be way too sweet and runny, but thanks to my dear husband who donned his Superman cape and convinced me that store-bought icing is not from the devil, then in the blink of an eye ran to the store and purchased it, then whisked back in a nanosecond and iced the cake beautifully, we had a decent cake before three o’clock. No cake balls, but a decent cake.

Notice I said “we” had a beautiful cake. Emma had one with sickening sweet icing.

Which probably explains this look and why she chose to eat three strawberries and barely touched the cake.

She was a champ at opening presents and sat there and looked at each and every one of them without tiring.

She adores presents and wants to stop and play with them all.

She even loved her cards.

Despite my anxiety, the party was a success and the love Emma received was awesome.

So here’s to planning birthday party #2 eleven months early.

Maybe that way, we can have cake balls.

12 months

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.

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.

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.

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

11 months

Dear Emma Kate,

How did this happen? I blinked twice, maybe only once, and you have been with us now for 11 months. My goodness, this is zooming so fast. It makes my mama heart sad knowing your littleness is gone forever, and knowing that the next 18 years will fly past as well, but it makes my mama heart happy each and every day as I watch you grow and learn.

You are quite the little girl! And you have so many people who just adore you. There is no other way to say that.

This month you are standing alone really well and have just begun to take one or two steps as long as you have something ahead of you that you can grab onto. I know as soon as you get the courage to go, you will be all over the place!

You are talking up a storm too. You attempt to repeat many words when told what something is, but you can plain-as-day-say mama, dada, ash, night night, horse, ball, bye-bye. You can almost-plain-as-day-say Grace, cat, I love you, bath.

You love music, singing, and dancing. You sway back and forth singing a precious little “la-la” when its a soft song, and you bounce up and down and throw in some Elvis legs when you really want to get down.

You are a serious child mostly, and only let loose around people you feel comfortable with. In a strange place around unfamiliar people, you study and watch and observe.

Climbing is your thing. You climb on anything you can easily reach, and you think it’s great fun to get in small spaces like cabinets or to sit on things like boxes.

You celebrated your first Christmas and learned pretty quickly what that was all about. Of course it took a while and you wanted to stop and play with all your toys. You loved each and every one, except the pony we got you! It is a bit scary to you for now.

Sleeping. It just isn’t happening still. You my dear, will sleep when you’re old I guess. Its a struggle; not to get you to go to sleep, but to get you to stay asleep. We’ve tried it all, and the best I can figure is you do best with a routine and lately that isn’t happening with the holidays and traveling and moving to a new state. I hope soon it will all settle down and become normal again.

We went to see your favorite book, Pete the Cat’s author at a school where I used to work and you are all but old enough to start going to school. You loved the children and when he started reading “I Love My White Shoes”, you crawled towards the stage and sat attentively. It was so cute!

Even though you are super cute, setting limits is our next job with you it appears. You have started doing some things that mama and daddy don’t think are so cute. Like throwing fits and food. As much as we’d love to let you have everything you want, it would turn you into a brat, and brats aren’t any fun to be around. There will be times when it seems like we’re being mean, but we’re only loving you the best we can.

I love you so much! The past 11 months have been a joy for me. I’m trying to take it all in. I can’t slow down time, as much as I wish I could, but each day I’m trying to make last.

xoxo,

Mama

Tight Spaces

Forgive the quality of the photos in this post. I think I must have been drunk when I took these. Just kidding. Really, they were taken with my phone, which is so old it’s considered a dumb smart phone.

Lately our little EK has been quite the explorer. Finding just the right spaces to crawl into is her current obsession.

First, she empties the small space to make room for herself.

And then she climbs in.

She’s especially partial to cabinets.

Although she doesn’t discriminate. Sometimes, she prefers drawers.

And occasionally, she’ll attempt to fit herself in a canvas bin.

When she’s not squeezing into small spaces, she’s climbing on top of them.

And going after what she wants.

Even if she has to get on her tippy toes.

10 months

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

Just Because

Just because it’s Tuesday (I think).

Just because she’s 9.5 months old (tomorrow).

Just because she hasn’t pulled her hair bow out or her socks off (yet).

Just because she’s been under the weather and today is the first day in nearly a week that she is back to her old self (almost).

Just because before I know it, she’s going to be walking (or driving) (or both).

Just because she’s adorable (totally).

Just because.

Halloween #1

I was torn.

My motherly decision making center of the brain was shorting out. What to do? What to do?

The practical, frugal Rocket Surgeon side of me said celebrating EK’s first Halloween is ridiculous. She’s nine months old for Heaven’s sake, she has no earthly idea what in the world we would be doing, she can’t even walk, much less ring a doorbell and say Trick or Treat. She can’t even eat candy! It’s silly to spend money on a costume she is going to wear once in her lifetime. We’ll have plenty of years to do the whole Halloween thing.

The sentimental, sappy Rocket Surgeon side of me said celebrating EK’s first Halloween is essential. She’s just nine months old, she’ll be so cute in a costume, she’ll need a picture for the baby book, she might think I was some horrible mother later on down the road (which will happen when she’s sixteen anyway) if we don’t. Why would I want to miss out on this opportunity to share her with others?

So on October 31st, at around 11:00 a.m. I made up my mind.

We would do a small version of the Halloween thing.

Put on a costume, go to some family and close friends, visit out church festival, then come home and go to bed.

I found a very cute and easy Candy Corn costume to make at this site: http://www.chicaandjo.com/2010/10/18/candy-corn-costume/

So while she took a nap, I was able to put her costume together. And then of course, since I’m a beginner sewer, I was able to rip some of it out and re-put it together. But it came together fairly simply with not too many frustrations on my part.

She hates hats. Absolutely won’t leave them on. Even with a “stampede string”, we fought that thing. She kept pulling it off, until I showed her herself in the mirror, and just like that she decided it was too cute to take off.

We made our rounds and enjoyed the night.

I must admit, she looked sweet enough to eat!