Tag Archives: Family

9 months

Hey Emma Kate,

You’ve made it nine months so far and boy has the time really flown.  You are a such a joy!  We are so blessed to have you.  You have no idea how much you have enriched our lives.  And not just me and daddy, but all of your family.

My heart is so full of love for you sometimes I think it may burst.

You are one of a kind, kid.  You have such a determined spirit about you, and there is nothing in this world going to stop you.  Remember always to never let obstacles stand in your path.

Sleeping has been a challenge for you, it’s not one of your favorite things to do, but you need it after working so hard all the time.  But we’ve made big improvements in your sleeping, even though you still don’t sleep through the night.

You are absolutely out of this world gorgeous.  Strangers comment on your beauty all the time, especially your eyes.  You have these big, round, dark eyes that just seem to draw people in.  The other things people comment on?  Your size.  You’re not a teeny tiny baby, sister.  When they find out how old you are they tell me you are a big baby.  You’ve been called a barefoot porkchop even!  I think it was a term of endearment, so don’t let it offend you.  I sure didn’t.  You wear a size 12 months and are sporting a ghetto booty in your jeggings.  Now when you read this years down the road, you’ll probably have to ask some old person what that means.  Surely our memories won’t be so poor we can’t remember!

You’ve got six teeth.  4 on top and 2 on bottom.  Your teeth didn’t come in like they were supposed to, and there for a while, you had fangs.

You’re a big eater too.  We never could find a baby food you liked, and you just wanted to take the spoon from us and do it yourself, so we’ve moved on to table food and it seems to be just fine.  You feed yourself so well and can even drink from a glass.

I can’t tell you how smart you are, Emma.  Sometimes it’s just a little freaky.  Your mind works all the time and it’s like we can see the wheels turning.  You are constantly trying to figure something out.  Your favorite things to play with right now are your baby dolls and books.  You love on your babies with pats and kisses and turn pages in your books all the time.

You are pulling up everywhere and this month you decided to start taking a few steps while pushing a walking toy.  You are so proud of yourself too when you do something big like that.  You grin an infectious smile and look around to make sure someone is watching you.   Of course we all are, and we are cheering you on every step of the way.  Yea Emma!  Go Emma, Go!  We always will be.  All you’ll need to do is look around and we’ll be right behind you cheering you on!

We have so much to look forward to.  God has so blessed me by giving me you and my words will never ever be able to express it fully.

I love you oodles and gobs,

XOXO

Mama

Sleeping on the Floor Part 3

“Having children is like living in a frat house – nobody sleeps, everything’s broken, and there’s a lot of throwing up.”
― Ray Romano

Last night marked Day 5 with my comfy “bed on the floor” gig.

And boy oh boy, I’m feeling like I can move mountains!

I’m almost afraid to tell you for fear that if I let it out, the universe will turn against me.  But here goes.

EK slept through the night.  Almost.

I scooted my little bed cot over closer to the door and out of reach to begin the transition to move me out of her room.

She had a late evening nap, so she went to bed about 45 minutes later than usual.  After going through our bedtime routine, I placed her in her crib, she rolled right over and went straight to sleep.  She awoke twice for 5-10 seconds of whining then she was able to put herself back to sleep, and slept until 4:45 this morning.  After some milk at 4:45, she went right back to sleep and slept 3 more hours until 7:45!

Success my friends, success. In my book anyway.

Since I never intervened or helped her get back to sleep until 4:45, Mama here got some good sleep too! Yippee.

We’re also making progress with our naps and yesterday she slept an hour and 15 minutes by herself in her crib.  This is huge as usually her naps are 40 minutes long and willy-nilly.

We’re getting there friends.  We’re getting there.

 

The man who moves a mountain begins by carrying away small stones. –Confucius

 

 

 

Sleeping on the Floor Part 1

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

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

 

 

Feeding the Big Chickens

We recently had a family picnic at the park.  It was a beautiful September day and we were in the big city, so we decided to grab a couple burgers and enjoy them under the treetops.

The park has a big lake with walkers and joggers circling it.  A few fisherman had cast their poles into the water and were waiting patiently in their lawn chairs.  A sweet elderly couple sat at a picnic table, his arm draped around her shoulders, enjoying the day.

 

We sat right at that other picnic table fighting off the flies.  I watched  that little old couple and my thoughts turned romantic.  I smiled at the idea of  how sweet and long-lasting their love is.  Like something Nicholas Sparks would write.  And then as I eavesdropped a little more, I discovered that they weren’t an old married couple after all, but new companions.  He was telling her about the time when he was twelve and they visited Wisconsin.  He talked about the war.  She asked questions about his former marriage.  As we got up to leave, I snapped their picture, glad to know that new love exists.  That little white-haired couple lifted my spirits and reminded me that no matter how old you are, there is still time to make new friends.

We saved a little bit of our hamburger buns for the ducks.  Is it just me, or do you get a little wigged out when all the ducks start surrounding you, crowding into your space, honking and quacking?  I was attacked by a duck once, I guess you could call it that, and ever since that experience, I’ve been a little gun-shy.  Or duck-shy.

EK has a way of expressing her delight.  She OH’s.  When she sees that little black baby boy on the Pamper’s box, she says Oh, Oh, Oh, but drags it out.  She Oh’ed at the ducks and the swans.  I wonder what her little mind was thinking of those gigantic birds.  Maybe something along the lines of “Whoa man, that is one big chicken.”

She was just as curious as they were and when it mistook her bare toes for bread crumbs, she didn’t cry, she just Oh’ed at it.

When all our hamburger buns were either eaten or growing soggy in the water, we took a little stroll around the lake and enjoyed the moment with dreams of many more to come.

 

 

 

 

Picture Perfect

After we buried my dad February of last year, I drove back to Texas basically with a pickup, plants, and a photograph.

The pickup still sits in front of my yard, longing for a spin around town.

The plants, I’m proud to say, are flourishing.

And the photo sits on a shelf in my dining room.

It was one of his favorites.  At one point, being technologically disinclined, he asked my sister to put it as his profile pic on his Facebook page.  I don’t know how he expected her to do that, as he had the picture in a frame two states over, but nevertheless.

It’s a tiny picture, maybe a 3 X 5 in a cheap brass frame with parts of the frame chipped.  It displays a much younger us.

I remember the day.  Thanks to a generous landlord aunt, my sister had recently scored a cheap one bedroom rent house, albeit in need of some TLC.  I was helping her paint, when our dad showed up to check on our progress.  I’m covered in paint.  He’s not.  The hat I’m wearing leaves me to question.  Was I painting in that hat or was it on his head and I put it on mine?  I don’t recall the detail.

On the back, he’s written, “me & ang, yukking it up in ’91”

I can’t remember the exact conversation, but I know it went something like this:  my sister holding a camera, my dad draping his arm around me, my sister telling us to say “cheese”, and right before the camera snapped, my dad sucked in his gut, and I busted out laughing.

“Yukking it up in ’91” he called it.

If I’d  known then that we had only twenty more years together.  Twenty years.  It sounds like a long time when you say it, but it sure goes by fast. What would I have done differently?  Anything?

Throughout those years, we had many more times of “yukking it up”, and I’m grateful for every one of them.

But I can’t help but wish we could have one right now.

Miss you dad.

Under the weather

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

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.

7 months old

Hey baby girl,

Another month has come and gone.  It’s simply unbelievable.

You are still as cute as always.  And pssst, just between you and me, some people are saying you are starting to look like me.  It thrills my soul every time I hear it.  You sure are good lookin’, but your insides are more important.  Let me tell you about your little 7 month spirit.

You are determined.

You are alert to everything going on around you.

You are smart, smart, smart.  Your brain is working all the time.  Just for future reference, I don’t think I’ll be able to help you with your homework.

You’re getting the hang of the peek-a-boo game and we can play that for a real long time.  It seems I get bored before you do for sure.

You are sweet and have just begun to give hugs and snuggle down to us when we pick you up.  You are starting to show affection to your people and it is so darling.

Sleep?  Who needs it?  You are too busy scooting around on your tummy, dragging one leg behind you like a wounded soldier, exploring everything you can and everything you shouldn’t.

You’re getting much stronger in your legs and have begun to attempt to pull up, especially in your crib when you don’t want to be in there.  You can also stand for a real long time holding onto something, like the ottoman.

You aren’t crawling on your hands and knees yet, but you’ve started to crawl onto things.  The other day you got in quite a bind when you crawled on top of a case of water sitting on the floor, and you didn’t really know what to do next so you started yelling.  You’re funny, girl.  But you don’t think other things are funny.  Although you grin and smile all the time, you rarely laugh.  It usually takes your cousin Ash to get you to laugh, and yesterday for the first time ever, you laughed at me.

This month we’ve hit a few bumps in the road.   It seems that you’ve developed a small case of “Stranger Danger” and will sometimes cry when your not familiar with the person holding you.  Also, you’ve gotten super attached to momma, and you’ll cry if I walk out of the room.  So guess what I’ve done?  I’ve pulled out the old baby wrap.  Remember that thing?  I’m back to strapping you to me and away we go to do the things that don’t really get done, like sweeping and cooking.  I need to figure out how to turn you around to face out however because you keep twisting your little torso around to see what in the world is going on behind you.  I’m worried you just might topple out.

But the biggest bump is the sleeping thing.  All over the internet is says kids your age should be sleeping through the night.  You did that once.  Once.  Months ago.  So in case I haven’t already told you, mom and dad would really appreciate it if you’d go ahead and meet that milestone real soon.

I hope you know sweet thing, that I don’t have a clue what I’m doing.  I google directions everyday for you concerning all sorts of issues.  Should I let you cry it out at sleep time or should we co-sleep, should I teach you sign language so you can communicate, what sorts of foods should I fee you and the list goes on and on.  I don’t know if all the “experts” have a clue either.  What I do know is you are loved deeply,  and you matter.  I want you so much to be an independent, confident, well rounded little person, now and always.  I’m trying my best and we’ll just figure this out together, okay?

I love you, baby.

XOXO

Mama

Red River

My niece Ashy has a word she uses a lot.

It’s “Amazing”.

“This dessert is amazing, this smells amazing, my aunt Angel is amazing”.  Well, actually, I made that last one up.  She’s never really said that, but it doesn’t mean she shouldn’t.

It’s a bit ironic.  Her middle name is Grace and she was born under distressing circumstances, yet pulled through and has been our little miracle ever since.  My dad quickly nicknamed her “Amazing Gracie”.

So here we are in Red River, New Mexico, and according to Ashlynn everything is simply “Amazing”.  The mountains are amazing, the smells are amazing, the air is amazing.  And she’s right.

We’re vacationing with some of our good, best friends,the Hoganson’s (Matt, Jaxson, Revelle, and Gage) and enjoying it abundantly.

We’ve spent our day fishing and catching moss.

Then we rented jeeps to head “off road” and upward.

Of course like everything else at the beginning, the excitement and anticipation is high.   Everyone is all smiles.

But after two wrong turns, four hours, and three stops to pee in the woods we were ready to get back on level ground, or at least some smooth pavement.

It was a bumpy, rough ride I tell you.

At the end of it, our teeth were rattled, our bones were jarred and Matt is worried that Emma might be retarded now.

But boy, was it pretty.

Here’s proof:

I love this Aspen forest.  Isn’t it enchanting?  I imagine myself in a long flowing white dress sitting in its midst with butterflies and fairies dancing around my head and unicorns eating sparkly food from my hand.  I’m weirder than weird.  I already know.

But my most favorite picture is this one.

Isn’t it amazing?