1:00 rolls around. You catch your baby rubbing her eyes and she cries because she finished her food and you took off her bib. "I think someone is sleepy!" you say to your baby. She says, "whatever Mom, I'm super awake!"
But you know better and against your baby's wishes commence the naptime routine.
1. Change baby's diaper as she barrel rolls and wallows on her changing table. It's okay, you like a challenge.
2. Read the "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" book and sing while your baby chews on the arm of the chair.
3. Feed baby until she falls asleep. Make a mental to-do list of the multitudes of things that need done while baby is sleeping.
4. Lay baby down.
5. Step on approximately 14.7 creaky floor spots on your way to the door.
6. Help formerly sleeping baby get back to sleep.
[repeat steps 4-6 as necessary]
7. Hold your breath.
8. Ninja dance to the door.
9. Spend 1.5 minutes closing door as quietly as humanly possible.
10. Breathe.
11. Get the dessert that you didn't eat at lunch because it was 1:00 and 1:00 is time for eye rubbing.
12. Sit down to eat and glance at Facebook.
13. Continue "glancing" at Facebook.
14. Pet the dog as an apology for not sharing your dessert.
15. Throw away your trash.
16. Pick up toys from the morning.
17. Pet dog.
18. Decide to watch one episode of a Netflix show.
19. Come on, everyone know you can't watch just one episode.
20. Continue watching Netflix.
21. "Glance" at your phone.
22. Realize that your eyelids are suddenly feeling heavy.
23. Weigh your options:
A. Attempt productivity.
B. Take a nap. Baby usually sleeps for a while longer.
24. Make the wise decision.
25. Sleep for 4 minutes and 32 seconds.
26. Jolt awake.
27. Retrieve screaming baby and melt in to a puddle as she sees you and breaks into her big gummy smile.
28. Tell her she's silly and that you love her a lot.
And so concludes naptime. Your baby is currently pulling all of her toys back out and you feel a morsel of regret for not accomplishing more during naptime. You remember that you did get that piece of trash thrown away and somehow your 4 minute and 32 second nap made you feel about 11% more energized. Pat yourself on the back, momma. You're doing just fine.
Wednesday, May 13, 2015
Thursday, May 7, 2015
The Dream Team Volume Two
The Dream Team never fails to enjoy a good crafting project.
This afternoon, I laid Abby down for her nap, did a couple of small chores, and got out my fabric cutting board and went to work. Abby enjoys waking up at the smallest noises, be it the flutter of butterfly wings or the snip of scissors. Maybe a dog barked thirty miles down the road in Yadkin County or a car door closed in Boone. Whatever the reason, Abby woke up earlier than I had planned on her waking up. I was just about finished cutting fabric though, so I sat her down near me and went back to work.
Abby is mobile enough, though not crawling yet, that she can get herself almost anywhere. Like literally on top of the fabric that I was attempting to cut. Add on to this the fact that me sitting on the floor anywhere is an invitation for Milo to come over and my goal of simply cutting fabric was becoming increasingly difficult.
And now, I present to you this story through photographs.
I am clearly a mean mom for drawing the line at chewing on things after Milo has been chewing on them, so this is where the fun ended. A minor meltdown ensued and my crafting came to a temporary halt. All was well within a few minutes and we moved the fun upstairs to the sewing machine, which is another party just waiting to happen.
This afternoon, I laid Abby down for her nap, did a couple of small chores, and got out my fabric cutting board and went to work. Abby enjoys waking up at the smallest noises, be it the flutter of butterfly wings or the snip of scissors. Maybe a dog barked thirty miles down the road in Yadkin County or a car door closed in Boone. Whatever the reason, Abby woke up earlier than I had planned on her waking up. I was just about finished cutting fabric though, so I sat her down near me and went back to work.
Abby is mobile enough, though not crawling yet, that she can get herself almost anywhere. Like literally on top of the fabric that I was attempting to cut. Add on to this the fact that me sitting on the floor anywhere is an invitation for Milo to come over and my goal of simply cutting fabric was becoming increasingly difficult.
And now, I present to you this story through photographs.
Abby: Tape.
Abby: MILO. TAPE.
Abby: Milo, get over here! Tape AND a water bottle! Mom's not done with it yet, but she doesn't mind if we both lick it.
Milo: Oh wow Abby. Thanks for the heads up. Isn't Mom great?
Abby: That's right, dog. This bottle ain't big enough for the both of us.
Milo: Oh hi Mom, were you sitting here? I almost weigh as much as you do but you don't mind if I perch my large behind on your kneecap.
Abby: Lay down, Milo, as I taunt you with this delectable water bottle.
Milo: Pet me, Mommy
Milo: She's going to put that on my head, isn't she?
Abby: Milo, this would look fantastic on your head.
Abby: Fine. If you're not going to wear it, I'm just going to go back over here.
Milo: I love you.
Abby: Wanna lick this, buddy?
Milo: I love you.
Abby: Can I lick it now?
Me: No.
I am clearly a mean mom for drawing the line at chewing on things after Milo has been chewing on them, so this is where the fun ended. A minor meltdown ensued and my crafting came to a temporary halt. All was well within a few minutes and we moved the fun upstairs to the sewing machine, which is another party just waiting to happen.
These two may make everyday life a little more difficult at times, but they are so entertaining that it really doesn't bother me. I love my little Dream Team!
Thursday, April 2, 2015
The Dream Team Volume 1
On a recent Target trip, I was perusing the dollar section (why else would you go to Target?!) and found various colors of bunny ears. Abby practically begged me to buy two pairs, one for her and one for Milo. Not being one to turn down holiday attire, we bought two pairs. Jared was thrilled. ;)
Earlier this week, I attempted a photo shoot with the two of them sporting their bunny ears. One of the two wouldn't keep his paws off of his head long enough for me to take a picture, so I gave up and took pictures of the other one, who wanted to single-handedly pick up all of the other one's fur off the floor.
We revisited the photo shoot today and the results are below.
I present to you "The Dream Team Wears (but not for long) Bunny Ears."
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Earlier this week, I attempted a photo shoot with the two of them sporting their bunny ears. One of the two wouldn't keep his paws off of his head long enough for me to take a picture, so I gave up and took pictures of the other one, who wanted to single-handedly pick up all of the other one's fur off the floor.
We revisited the photo shoot today and the results are below.
I present to you "The Dream Team Wears (but not for long) Bunny Ears."
Abby: Hey, um Milo, Mom put the ears on us again.
Milo: Please don't remind me.
Abby: No worries, buddy...let me get those for you.
Milo: I love you.
Abby: Wait for it...
Abby: Waiiiiit for iiiit....
Abby: Waaaaaaiiiiiit fooooor iiiiit....
Abby: Another crisis averted, Milo.
Milo: I love you.
Milo: I owe you one, kiddo.
Abby: Don't mention it.
Abby: Hey can I pinch your nose for a few minutes?
Milo: Yes. I love you.
Milo: You probably don't really need to wear yours either, Abs.
Abby: Good point. Wanna taste?
Milo: Yes. Always.
Abby: Go right ahead, buddy.
Milo: Can you slow down for a minute? Can't...quite...lick...
At this point, as a direct result of her excitement and flapping, Abby fell over. Milo laid his head back down and our photo shoot ended rather abruptly.
I had visions of adorable Easter pictures that were frame-worthy (darn you, Pinterest), but I think I prefer these.
Happy Easter from the Blairs!
Friday, February 20, 2015
Abby's First Valentine's Day
[A dramatic retelling of a Pinterest project gone wrong]
Last week, Abby said, "Hey Mom! Can we please make Valentine's Day cards for everybody? I think it will be a really easy and clean project and we'll both have fun and nobody will cry!" She couldn't wait. We decided to make cards along these lines for the grandparents and her great grandmothers. Cute!
I stripped Abby down to her diaper and cleared off space on the kitchen table. I grabbed some paper, non-toxic face paint, and our almost naked baby. Abby sat in her high chair as I smeared paint on the bottom of her left foot. "Wow Mom, I would love for you to paint the bottom of my foot and I promise that I'll hold completely still!"
I moved my hand from her foot and turned my attention toward the table and I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. As any other baby would be doing, Abby was grabbing her freshly painted foot and was working on getting it in to her mouth. "Gee Mom, thanks for buying non-toxic paint...I'm sure it tastes just as delicious as the toxic stuff, but I better test it to make sure!" My cat-like mom reflexes switched on and I swooped in and intercepted the tiny but powerful foot.
Somewhere around now I realized that I was going to need to work fast. "Don't be silly Mom...I'm going to make this really easy for you!"
I held Abby in position above the table and began to try to move her red foot towards the paper. It wasn't working. There was paint on the high chair, the high chair seat belt, and my shirt, but not on the paper yet. I repositioned her (somewhat like juggling jello) and found victory. One smeared footprint done! "Oh gosh Mom, that was fun! Let's do that several more times please!!" I admired our handiwork; most of her toes were present on the print so I counted it a victory and did three more left feet.
I worked quickly to get her right food painted. As I was finishing up, Jared walked in the door for his lunch break. This elicited quite the excited response from Abby. I said hi to Jared and looked back at my bright red child. "Oops Mom, I accidentally just lost control of all of my limbs...sorry for getting paint on every square inch of my body!" Suddenly our sweet Abby seemed less like a baby and more like an octopus and I couldn't control any of her legs.
She wiggled and squirmed in her excitement to see Dad and she basically single handedly (double footedly?) repainted the kitchen. "What Mom? You wanted that part of the table to be red? And that Mason jar? And the rest of your shirt? And Milo? Got it!" I attempted to wrangle Miss Octopus legs and after quite the struggle still hadn't stamped a single right foot print.
And then I did. But it didn't look like a foot. "Mom, I would love for you to try that again!" Sure, Abs!
Jared had to stand out of her line of vision so that Little Miss Octopus could chill out. The next footprints were not footprints, but more like angry red smeared blobs. "Please make extra sets of footprints Mom, please!" Abby begged. Not one to disappoint, we made a few extra sets that looked less like an animal had been butchered and more like feet.
Finishing up, four out of six footprint hearts had at least 7 out of 10 toes represented and basically looked like feet. Success!
"Hey Mom, please give me a bath even though it's not bedtime. I promise not to repeatedly kick you and my changing table and get red paint all over everything...I would never do that!"
P.S. I admire any preschool teacher that does this with multiple children. You should be paid more to teach and make crafts with an entire class of octopus babies for an entire year.
Last week, Abby said, "Hey Mom! Can we please make Valentine's Day cards for everybody? I think it will be a really easy and clean project and we'll both have fun and nobody will cry!" She couldn't wait. We decided to make cards along these lines for the grandparents and her great grandmothers. Cute!
I stripped Abby down to her diaper and cleared off space on the kitchen table. I grabbed some paper, non-toxic face paint, and our almost naked baby. Abby sat in her high chair as I smeared paint on the bottom of her left foot. "Wow Mom, I would love for you to paint the bottom of my foot and I promise that I'll hold completely still!"
I moved my hand from her foot and turned my attention toward the table and I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. As any other baby would be doing, Abby was grabbing her freshly painted foot and was working on getting it in to her mouth. "Gee Mom, thanks for buying non-toxic paint...I'm sure it tastes just as delicious as the toxic stuff, but I better test it to make sure!" My cat-like mom reflexes switched on and I swooped in and intercepted the tiny but powerful foot.
Somewhere around now I realized that I was going to need to work fast. "Don't be silly Mom...I'm going to make this really easy for you!"
I held Abby in position above the table and began to try to move her red foot towards the paper. It wasn't working. There was paint on the high chair, the high chair seat belt, and my shirt, but not on the paper yet. I repositioned her (somewhat like juggling jello) and found victory. One smeared footprint done! "Oh gosh Mom, that was fun! Let's do that several more times please!!" I admired our handiwork; most of her toes were present on the print so I counted it a victory and did three more left feet.
I worked quickly to get her right food painted. As I was finishing up, Jared walked in the door for his lunch break. This elicited quite the excited response from Abby. I said hi to Jared and looked back at my bright red child. "Oops Mom, I accidentally just lost control of all of my limbs...sorry for getting paint on every square inch of my body!" Suddenly our sweet Abby seemed less like a baby and more like an octopus and I couldn't control any of her legs.
She wiggled and squirmed in her excitement to see Dad and she basically single handedly (double footedly?) repainted the kitchen. "What Mom? You wanted that part of the table to be red? And that Mason jar? And the rest of your shirt? And Milo? Got it!" I attempted to wrangle Miss Octopus legs and after quite the struggle still hadn't stamped a single right foot print.
And then I did. But it didn't look like a foot. "Mom, I would love for you to try that again!" Sure, Abs!
Jared had to stand out of her line of vision so that Little Miss Octopus could chill out. The next footprints were not footprints, but more like angry red smeared blobs. "Please make extra sets of footprints Mom, please!" Abby begged. Not one to disappoint, we made a few extra sets that looked less like an animal had been butchered and more like feet.
Finishing up, four out of six footprint hearts had at least 7 out of 10 toes represented and basically looked like feet. Success!
"Hey Mom, please give me a bath even though it's not bedtime. I promise not to repeatedly kick you and my changing table and get red paint all over everything...I would never do that!"
P.S. I admire any preschool teacher that does this with multiple children. You should be paid more to teach and make crafts with an entire class of octopus babies for an entire year.
Wednesday, December 10, 2014
What Not to Say...
to a pregnant woman.
I think I'm far enough removed from pregnancy now that I can write this. Had you asked me about four and a half months ago what not to say to a pregnant woman, I would have said, "anything."
I was scrolling through Facebook today and loved seeing how many friends I have that are pregnant or that have bitty babies like we do. A lot of you probably have pregnant friends or maybe you'll be seeing your expecting cousin Susy at Christmas dinner. Take some lighthearted advice from me and help Susy to enjoy her holidays.
So behold: Things to Not Say to a Pregnant Lady
1. Sleep now, because you won't sleep once baby is here!
Susy will smile and say, "Oh, I know!" but odds are really good that she's not sleeping now as it is. If she's early on in pregnancy, there's a good chance she's too sick feeling to get a good night's sleep. At the end of pregnancy, back/hip/stomach/what have you pain will likely be keeping Susy awake.
2. Should you be eating that?
Any expectant mother that's done her research or gone to the doctor has been briefed on what she should or should not be consuming while pregnant. Hovering over her will and watching her food choices will not make Susy happy. It will likely just make Susy annoyed and afraid to eat in front of you and Susy needs to eat!
3. You don't even look pregnant!
There are several reasons Susy may not look pregnant. It may be too early for her to be showing. Maybe her shirt is fashioned so that it doesn't accentuate the bump. She more than likely feels pregnant and you don't want to dash her pregnant lady dreams!
4. Are you sure it's not twins?
I was walking in to Staples after school one day and I had just started wearing maternity clothes, so I'm not sure how far along I was but I was definitely showing. I passed a kind older man and we said "hello" to each other.
"Beautiful weather we're having, isn't it?" he asked.
"It is really is nice outside!" I answered and kept on going.
"Hey, looks like TWINS to me!"
Thank you, stranger.
*Fun fact. I spoke to someone near my classroom one day that told me I hardly looked pregnant. I walked to the other end of the hallway, where I was told I must be having twins because my bump was so big. Babies do grow really quickly over the course of 2.5 minutes.
5. You're pregnant. You need to eat until your cheeks are fatter.
...moving on
And the grand finale.
6. How much weight have you gained?
Imagine confronting a non-pregnant woman that looks like she may have gained some weight. Can you imagine asking her how much weight she's gained? Now think about sweet, innocent Susy that's busy growing a little one. "Hey Susy, how many pounds have you packed on?" Susy probably isn't going to want to tell you that number. Susy may not even know how much weight she's gained. I have spoken to several women that avoided looking at the scale during OB appointments. Or Susy knows exactly how many pounds she's gained and she's going to smile and say, "You know, I'm just not sure!" ;)
Disclaimer - I was okay with sharing that number with a few select people, like my husband and parents. But to the person I've talked to for approximately eleven minutes over the course of the past year...
So, consider the beautiful pregnant women in your life and encourage them.
Safe things to say are:
"You look great!"
and
"That shirt looks awesome on you."
and
"You look great!"
and
"Good luck with everything!"
and
"Hey, you look great!"
Now run along and talk to Susy.
Any other pregnant/recently pregnant/have-been-pregnant-before women have anything to add? I'd love to hear your advice!
I think I'm far enough removed from pregnancy now that I can write this. Had you asked me about four and a half months ago what not to say to a pregnant woman, I would have said, "anything."
I was scrolling through Facebook today and loved seeing how many friends I have that are pregnant or that have bitty babies like we do. A lot of you probably have pregnant friends or maybe you'll be seeing your expecting cousin Susy at Christmas dinner. Take some lighthearted advice from me and help Susy to enjoy her holidays.
So behold: Things to Not Say to a Pregnant Lady
1. Sleep now, because you won't sleep once baby is here!
Susy will smile and say, "Oh, I know!" but odds are really good that she's not sleeping now as it is. If she's early on in pregnancy, there's a good chance she's too sick feeling to get a good night's sleep. At the end of pregnancy, back/hip/stomach/what have you pain will likely be keeping Susy awake.
2. Should you be eating that?
Any expectant mother that's done her research or gone to the doctor has been briefed on what she should or should not be consuming while pregnant. Hovering over her will and watching her food choices will not make Susy happy. It will likely just make Susy annoyed and afraid to eat in front of you and Susy needs to eat!
3. You don't even look pregnant!
There are several reasons Susy may not look pregnant. It may be too early for her to be showing. Maybe her shirt is fashioned so that it doesn't accentuate the bump. She more than likely feels pregnant and you don't want to dash her pregnant lady dreams!
4. Are you sure it's not twins?
I was walking in to Staples after school one day and I had just started wearing maternity clothes, so I'm not sure how far along I was but I was definitely showing. I passed a kind older man and we said "hello" to each other.
"Beautiful weather we're having, isn't it?" he asked.
"It is really is nice outside!" I answered and kept on going.
"Hey, looks like TWINS to me!"
Thank you, stranger.
*Fun fact. I spoke to someone near my classroom one day that told me I hardly looked pregnant. I walked to the other end of the hallway, where I was told I must be having twins because my bump was so big. Babies do grow really quickly over the course of 2.5 minutes.
5. You're pregnant. You need to eat until your cheeks are fatter.
...moving on
And the grand finale.
6. How much weight have you gained?
Imagine confronting a non-pregnant woman that looks like she may have gained some weight. Can you imagine asking her how much weight she's gained? Now think about sweet, innocent Susy that's busy growing a little one. "Hey Susy, how many pounds have you packed on?" Susy probably isn't going to want to tell you that number. Susy may not even know how much weight she's gained. I have spoken to several women that avoided looking at the scale during OB appointments. Or Susy knows exactly how many pounds she's gained and she's going to smile and say, "You know, I'm just not sure!" ;)
Disclaimer - I was okay with sharing that number with a few select people, like my husband and parents. But to the person I've talked to for approximately eleven minutes over the course of the past year...
So, consider the beautiful pregnant women in your life and encourage them.
Safe things to say are:
"You look great!"
and
"That shirt looks awesome on you."
and
"You look great!"
and
"Good luck with everything!"
and
"Hey, you look great!"
Now run along and talk to Susy.
Any other pregnant/recently pregnant/have-been-pregnant-before women have anything to add? I'd love to hear your advice!
Monday, November 17, 2014
The First Four Months
On Thanksgiving, Abby will be four months old! Crazy. That means about four months ago we went to the hospital per my doctor's advice and got sent back home. And somewhere between the McDonald's drive through line and our house I gave the hospital the biggest mental black look ever given because things were beginning to happen for real. I ate approximately 3.5 chicken nuggets, paced around the house until we had ruts in the hardwood, prayed my head off, and told Jared it was time to go for real. Back to the hospital we went a couple hours later. I had traded in the belly punches and rib kicks for the pain of back labor. I then bowed at the feet of modern medicine as the anesthesiologist asked, "how's the pain now?" and all I could do was giggle. Less than four hours later, the pain was forgotten as I held a pink 7 pound 3 oz little bundle of baby girl in my arms.
No but seriously - I don't remember the pain. God's mechanism for ensuring that people will have more than one baby if they so desire.
The number of emotions felt and the lessons I've learned since July 27 are innumerable.
We worried the first few days because Abby would drink a few ounces and pass out. Shouldn't she be eating more? Is that enough for a newborn? And a couple weeks later I was wondering how on God's green earth a small baby could be eating as much as she was. If only she could eat a hamburger. That would keep her full longer. I'm kidding. But really.
I have learned that there is no such thing as "too many baby clothes." Just ask the hamper. And ask the days where we have both changed our clothes multiple times.
We've learned that people are full of their own advice and stories and recommendations, but they simply aren't a mom or dad to your little one. "Your three week old isn't on a schedule and sleeping through the night and bilingual? Well this is what I did..." And that's fantastic. But truthfully, mom and dad know best. Smiling and nodding is an acceptable response.
Once we got out of brand new newborn stage, I started regaining my sanity and feeling like a normal person that chooses to live in yoga pants and t-shirts. I also learned how to do everything left-handed and mastered the art of one-handed eating. I've eaten far more Ramen than I care to admit with my left hand, an art I never considered mastering before motherhood. Steak? Cereal? Sandwich? Only one hand available? Challenge accepted.
I've felt excitement over sleeping an entire night and a touch of disappointment when my baby alarm clock goes off at 2:30 am the following morning. I've fought sleep sitting in the chair in the nursery and then am magically wide awake when I'm back snuggled into our bed. How does that happen?
I've watched adults, women and manly men alike, melt into a puddle of awws in the face of Abby, especially now that she hands out smiles so freely. I love watching grown people mirror the face of a baby - sticking their tongues out, opening their eyes wide and furrowing their eyebrows as they mimic our little girl.
I've composed compelling ballads to encourage and/or discourage any imaginable bodily function. The album will be hitting iTunes next summer. Watch out, Taylor Swift.
I've learned the value of a mom's group (S+S shoutout) in maintaining sanity. Your baby likes to party at 4:00 am too? You're also on onesie number four for the day? Your hair is also falling out at an unbelievable rate? Nothing like solidarity between new moms!
Recently though, I've just been amazed at watching Abby grow. She can sit up really well in her Bumbo seat and she holds on to it like she's riding a mechanical bull. She smiles at Jared and me when we walk in to a room. She's started giggling and it's the most joyful sound ever. She holds up her head when she's laying on her belly and she can roll on to her back, but only when I'm not watching. She chatters to us all day long and sometimes sounds like she's saying "hi!" and other times just says "eer-o-wut." She squeals with joy when she sees Milo and she makes faces at his breath. It's okay buddy, we all have bad breath sometimes.
The dishes pile up (dear people of the world, never ever ever take your dishwasher for granted), the laundry eats the corner of our bedroom, Netflix accusingly asks me if I'm still watching Gilmore Girls as I serve as a human mattress because some days that's just how things go. Why yes I am, Netflix, so you just keep on trucking.
I can't believe how fast our little Abigail is growing and developing and learning. Our good days far outnumber our bad days and I wouldn't trade any of them for anything.
No but seriously - I don't remember the pain. God's mechanism for ensuring that people will have more than one baby if they so desire.
The number of emotions felt and the lessons I've learned since July 27 are innumerable.
We worried the first few days because Abby would drink a few ounces and pass out. Shouldn't she be eating more? Is that enough for a newborn? And a couple weeks later I was wondering how on God's green earth a small baby could be eating as much as she was. If only she could eat a hamburger. That would keep her full longer. I'm kidding. But really.
I have learned that there is no such thing as "too many baby clothes." Just ask the hamper. And ask the days where we have both changed our clothes multiple times.
We've learned that people are full of their own advice and stories and recommendations, but they simply aren't a mom or dad to your little one. "Your three week old isn't on a schedule and sleeping through the night and bilingual? Well this is what I did..." And that's fantastic. But truthfully, mom and dad know best. Smiling and nodding is an acceptable response.
Once we got out of brand new newborn stage, I started regaining my sanity and feeling like a normal person that chooses to live in yoga pants and t-shirts. I also learned how to do everything left-handed and mastered the art of one-handed eating. I've eaten far more Ramen than I care to admit with my left hand, an art I never considered mastering before motherhood. Steak? Cereal? Sandwich? Only one hand available? Challenge accepted.
I've felt excitement over sleeping an entire night and a touch of disappointment when my baby alarm clock goes off at 2:30 am the following morning. I've fought sleep sitting in the chair in the nursery and then am magically wide awake when I'm back snuggled into our bed. How does that happen?
I've watched adults, women and manly men alike, melt into a puddle of awws in the face of Abby, especially now that she hands out smiles so freely. I love watching grown people mirror the face of a baby - sticking their tongues out, opening their eyes wide and furrowing their eyebrows as they mimic our little girl.
I've composed compelling ballads to encourage and/or discourage any imaginable bodily function. The album will be hitting iTunes next summer. Watch out, Taylor Swift.
I've learned the value of a mom's group (S+S shoutout) in maintaining sanity. Your baby likes to party at 4:00 am too? You're also on onesie number four for the day? Your hair is also falling out at an unbelievable rate? Nothing like solidarity between new moms!
Recently though, I've just been amazed at watching Abby grow. She can sit up really well in her Bumbo seat and she holds on to it like she's riding a mechanical bull. She smiles at Jared and me when we walk in to a room. She's started giggling and it's the most joyful sound ever. She holds up her head when she's laying on her belly and she can roll on to her back, but only when I'm not watching. She chatters to us all day long and sometimes sounds like she's saying "hi!" and other times just says "eer-o-wut." She squeals with joy when she sees Milo and she makes faces at his breath. It's okay buddy, we all have bad breath sometimes.
The dishes pile up (dear people of the world, never ever ever take your dishwasher for granted), the laundry eats the corner of our bedroom, Netflix accusingly asks me if I'm still watching Gilmore Girls as I serve as a human mattress because some days that's just how things go. Why yes I am, Netflix, so you just keep on trucking.
I can't believe how fast our little Abigail is growing and developing and learning. Our good days far outnumber our bad days and I wouldn't trade any of them for anything.
 |
| Abby's birthday and today! |
Thursday, October 2, 2014
Sometimes...
...you wish you had a video camera. Because sometimes, your day seems like the things sitcoms are made of.
Imagine that your sweet baby fell asleep while eating, so she's curled up against you on top of the soft pillow on your lap. She wakes up after a time and you know that your baby likes to "sit" after she naps, so you prop her up in the corner of the couch. She looks around, stares at the fan, coos and smiles at you. Suddenly, her expression changes and you brace yourself for what is to come.
Sometimes, your baby's diaper defies all logic and physics. Sometimes you find that the contents of what should be in said diaper is in fact not in the diaper at all.
(I'll spare you the details. Use your imagination.)
So you ask your baby, "Hey um baby? How exactly did that happen?" And because she's a baby, she'll just smile at you. You commence clean up: quickly wipe the worst of it off the couch, carry the baby to her changing table and use all the wipes ever created, take off the onesie, replace diaper and onesie, and lay her in her crib. You stand at the bathroom sink, scrubbing and soaking, soaking and scrubbing, until the worst of the stains are gone and you can place the defiled items in the sunshine to dry. Of course while you're standing at the sink, your other child - the 100 pound one that is covered in fur - is trying his darndest to help you clean the couch. Because that's what dogs do. Onesie in the sink and head in the hallway, you say, "Hey Milo! Milo?! Milo, get in here!!" and then you peek in the nursery and see your baby happily kicking away in her crib. You know she has to feel better. The evidence, after all, is on the couch.
Sometimes you then have to take the couch cushion outside to clean and bake in the sun (because sometimes it's that bad) while your baby sits in her car seat on the driveway and watches you. You get it as clean as you guess it's going to get and begin to move everything back inside. While opening the door, you realize that you've walked through a spider web. Simultaneously your baby is less happy as she realizes that she'd rather be eating than watching you scrub a couch cushion. You can't blame her. You ignore the spider web, put away your cleaning supplies, and settle back in on the other couch - the clean one with all the cushions - to feed your baby.
Sometimes about thirty minutes will pass by and you feel something tickle your arm. You know that your baby girl likes to sleepily run her fingers along your arm, so you look down to soak in the adorableness. Instead of cute baby fingers, you see a spider. That's usually not as cute as baby fingers. Your mind flashes back to the spider web that you walked through previously and you revel in the fact that this spider has been crawling on you for a half hour. Wow, that's fantastic!
You stealthily fling your hand around, sending your new friend on to your half-made grocery list.You swiftly and with the grace of a super ninja stand up to save yourself and your previously-sleeping baby from this vicious being.
Then you may consider taking a picture so that you can show your doctor the life-sucking spider that tried to eat your arm.
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Your baby is now sitting in her swing staring at her mom, wondering, "What on earth could Mom be doing with those two pens?" Why, Mom is using them as spider-killing chopsticks, of course, dear.
Sometimes you leave the spider dead on the floor for your husband to clean up. Because he likes that sometimes.
And then, you're exhausted. You settle back in on the couch that now has one less cushion but definitely no spiders. You wonder what on earth just happened. Your dog continues to lick the couch and your baby wishes she had your pen chopstick ninja skills. And you laugh, amazed at how much uproar this tiny little human can create.
You realize that without this tiny human, your afternoon would have been nowhere near as exciting as it turned out to be. Odds are good you wouldn't have been scrubbing a cushion in the driveway and you definitely wouldn't have been viciously attacked by a man-eating spider.
Lastly and most importantly, you realize that you wouldn't have it any other way, because being a mom is seriously the best thing ever, even with your new adventures in cleaning.
End scene. Roll credits. :)
Imagine that your sweet baby fell asleep while eating, so she's curled up against you on top of the soft pillow on your lap. She wakes up after a time and you know that your baby likes to "sit" after she naps, so you prop her up in the corner of the couch. She looks around, stares at the fan, coos and smiles at you. Suddenly, her expression changes and you brace yourself for what is to come.
Sometimes, your baby's diaper defies all logic and physics. Sometimes you find that the contents of what should be in said diaper is in fact not in the diaper at all.
(I'll spare you the details. Use your imagination.)
So you ask your baby, "Hey um baby? How exactly did that happen?" And because she's a baby, she'll just smile at you. You commence clean up: quickly wipe the worst of it off the couch, carry the baby to her changing table and use all the wipes ever created, take off the onesie, replace diaper and onesie, and lay her in her crib. You stand at the bathroom sink, scrubbing and soaking, soaking and scrubbing, until the worst of the stains are gone and you can place the defiled items in the sunshine to dry. Of course while you're standing at the sink, your other child - the 100 pound one that is covered in fur - is trying his darndest to help you clean the couch. Because that's what dogs do. Onesie in the sink and head in the hallway, you say, "Hey Milo! Milo?! Milo, get in here!!" and then you peek in the nursery and see your baby happily kicking away in her crib. You know she has to feel better. The evidence, after all, is on the couch.
Sometimes you then have to take the couch cushion outside to clean and bake in the sun (because sometimes it's that bad) while your baby sits in her car seat on the driveway and watches you. You get it as clean as you guess it's going to get and begin to move everything back inside. While opening the door, you realize that you've walked through a spider web. Simultaneously your baby is less happy as she realizes that she'd rather be eating than watching you scrub a couch cushion. You can't blame her. You ignore the spider web, put away your cleaning supplies, and settle back in on the other couch - the clean one with all the cushions - to feed your baby.
Sometimes about thirty minutes will pass by and you feel something tickle your arm. You know that your baby girl likes to sleepily run her fingers along your arm, so you look down to soak in the adorableness. Instead of cute baby fingers, you see a spider. That's usually not as cute as baby fingers. Your mind flashes back to the spider web that you walked through previously and you revel in the fact that this spider has been crawling on you for a half hour. Wow, that's fantastic!
You stealthily fling your hand around, sending your new friend on to your half-made grocery list.You swiftly and with the grace of a super ninja stand up to save yourself and your previously-sleeping baby from this vicious being.
Then you may consider taking a picture so that you can show your doctor the life-sucking spider that tried to eat your arm.
Your baby is now sitting in her swing staring at her mom, wondering, "What on earth could Mom be doing with those two pens?" Why, Mom is using them as spider-killing chopsticks, of course, dear.
Sometimes you leave the spider dead on the floor for your husband to clean up. Because he likes that sometimes.
And then, you're exhausted. You settle back in on the couch that now has one less cushion but definitely no spiders. You wonder what on earth just happened. Your dog continues to lick the couch and your baby wishes she had your pen chopstick ninja skills. And you laugh, amazed at how much uproar this tiny little human can create.
You realize that without this tiny human, your afternoon would have been nowhere near as exciting as it turned out to be. Odds are good you wouldn't have been scrubbing a cushion in the driveway and you definitely wouldn't have been viciously attacked by a man-eating spider.
Lastly and most importantly, you realize that you wouldn't have it any other way, because being a mom is seriously the best thing ever, even with your new adventures in cleaning.
End scene. Roll credits. :)
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