I'm Missing You

My Dear Sweet Baby Girl,

Giuliana, I can't believe it's been very nearly two years since you made your entrance into this world and changed me forever. Your birthday, your second one!, is just a week and a half away. So, tonight I dug out the rarely used video camera to capture a few moments of your YOUness, right now, so I never forget. You indulged me by being very cute. You helped me empty the dishwasher and we sang the ABCs together while we did it. You banged on some pots and pans and played with the dog. You danced for me, "read" me a story, and colored me a picture. You chatted up a storm, which was exactly what I wanted to document. Thank you for cooperating.

After we were done recording we decided to watch some of the old tapes of you as a baby. We had to watch them on the little screen on the video camera because Mommy and Daddy still haven't managed to buy one of the VHS tapes to stick the little tapes in. (YES! we are still recording you on VHS, I know, I know...we will convert them all to DVD one day, I promise! We even have the machine to do it...it's the time that's a problem.)

You were facinated when I put in the tape from a year ago. You watched your first birthday party and recognized yourself in that barely-still-baby on the screen. You were excited again watching Mommy help you open your presents, recognizing all your now familiar toys. You pointed out all your favorite people and drooled over your birthday cupcakes (you begged for one, but, I'm sorry, honey, we don't have any cupcakes in the house.)

Next I put in the very first video tape. It starts with Mommy opening mail and finding your Social Security card. I laughed at myself as I got all excited, holding up the envelope to the camera, your first piece of mail, the documents that prove you are alive, a citizen, you have a name (and they spelled it right!) Daddy also indulged me as I held our health insurance statement up to the camera, showing off that you didn't cost us a dime when you were born, dispite choosing to come into the world the hard way.

And then, the camera pans to the main event. You. Your almost two year old self doesn't recognize that baby. Oh, but I do! There you are, days old. You are lying in your pack and play, skinny little arms and legs twitching and flaying uncontrollably. Your eyes roam, in and out of focus. Your little pink tongue darts in and out of your mouth. You make little squeaks which are the cutest thing, but don't really mean anything. But you are here. In our house. In our world. This sweet, adorable, completely foreign little person. And instantly I am transported.


With an aching like a physical punch in the gut I instantly miss you, though you are sitting right here on my lap. I am lost, once again in those first days of your life. Reliving those moments when I learned how to be your mother. It was a strange mix. I had known you from the moment you were concieved. But I didn't know you at all. I spent weeks just getting to know you. Learning every curve, every bump, every wrinkle. I learned every sound you had in your repitiore and what they all meant. You and I worked hard on communicating with each other. It wasn't easy at first. I remember, vividly, wanting to somehow impress you. I needed you to believe in me, trust me that I could do this job, be your mother.


We spent every single minute together in those first days. I'd even cart you into the bathroom with me, swaddled and strapped securely in your car seat. What else was I supposed to do with you? Daddy had to go to work. I didn't dare leave you alone with a dog and two cats in the house. You were probably at least several weeks old before I dared to leave you sleeping in your bassinet while I ran downstairs to make you a bottle. I remember racing to the kitchen, getting half way through the adruous task of making a bottle (that took all of 1 minute) and then anxiety getting the better of me, I would run back to the bottom of the stairs and listen intently to make sure you weren't crying. Then I would hurry back to the kitchen, finish the bottle prep, and run back up the stairs to your side. You were two and a half months old before I ever let you take a nap in your crib. I had the baby monitor stapped to my hip and I still went up to your room to check on you and make sure you were breathing at least 6 times in your hour long nap.


Yes, you and I did everything together. The Christmas you were born nesting took over me and I decided it would be a good idea to dust off an old family tradition and make homemade eggnog on Christmas Eve, after church. I used to help my mom make eggnog when I was little, standing over the stove and stirring, stirring, stirring it for her. So, with you in your sling, I stood at the stove and stirred a large vat of eggnog for hours late into the night, eventually perching on a stool, stirring with one hand, cradling you and giving you a bottle with the other hand.

The video jumps to another scene of you in your pack and play. You are older here, by weeks. I have filled your pack and play with stuffed animals, a soft blanket, many hanging toys. You are achingly cute in a little pink hat with a teddy bear face on it, teddy bear ears sticking out the sides. Your little sweat suit has another cute bear on it, your pant legs have ridden up to your fat little knees. You have filled out. I remember how I could never keep your pant legs down. They would scoot up your legs in seconds. Those legs were in constant motion, bending and stretching. They end in adorable white bunny slippers on your tiny feet. The camera smartly zooms in on those bunny clad feet for a few seconds, just to rub in how unbelievably cute you are. And then I hear myself talking to you, cooing and making funny noises that you attempt to repeat. You swing and bat toward the hanging toys, still not able to actually make anymore than incidental contact, yet it's more than you were doing a few weeks ago. I am caught up in how beautiful you are. The most beautiful baby I have ever seen. I remember that was my first conscience thought of you when the doctor pulled you from me and held you up for my inspection. You are beautiful. And here, several weeks old, you are coming into your own. Your skin is perfect. You have a suitable layer of chubbiness filling you out. Your cheeks are blushing pink, your eyes a sapphire blue, your lashes miles long. Today, my heart longs to be able to cuddle that little baby one more time.

I've been reflecting on the fact that those first few days and weeks with you are a time in my life that I will never relive, never experience again. You are the child that made me a mother. That only happens once in a lifetime. If I ever give you a brother or sister, it will be special and miraculous in it's own way. But it won't be the same as those days with you. Every second was new, every breath a learning experience. When I watch you on video I can grasp those feelings. Exhaustion. Exuberance. Wonder. Sheer terror. Absolutely overwhelming love. I miss those days with you. Getting to know you.

But, my Chicaboo, I wouldn't trade a second of these nearly two years for anything. Every single day you manage to outdo yourself. You are a wonderful child. No, you're not a baby anymore. Not even a little bit. You are fully, wholly a child. You can do so many things by yourself. You learn new words everyday, I couldn't even attempt to keep count anymore. You have been sitting in your booster seat lately. We still have the highchair out, but I expect by your birthday I will tuck it away, another artifact of your babyhood. The attic is full of all the things you have already outgrown.

But, Baby, you will always, always be my baby. My angel. My gift from God. I am more thankful for you than I can put into words. I love you. You are my joy.

Love,
Your Mommy

My Baby's Not A Baby Anymore...

...I think I'll have another.




Or not.



Still undecided over here. That's me. Lately, that old familiar feeling, that warm and some-what nausea inducing sensation has been setting in. Baby fever. I've diagnosed myself. I'd say I'm hovering somewhere around 101* or so. Not burning up. Not life-threatening. But noticeable. Enough that it gets in the way.

The other day I (unsuccessfully, it turns out...damn Twitter) twittered about the oh-so-cute-and-cuddly brand new baby that was haunting me at work. I was sitting innocently in a boring and some-what condescending uplifting staff meeting with BABY FEET sticking out, mocking my ovaries, not 10 feet away. How unfair is that?? BABY FEET! Who can resist? Especially when you have first hand knowledge of how soft, and tickley, and delicious (I can't say that...that's just gross...but you know it's true) sweet they are!

I used to have one of those little creatures. She looked like this:


(see...baby feet!) and a few days later she looked like this:


and NOW she looks like this: (with Daddy)


all Big Girl, and stuff. Oh, she's still mighty cute and kissable. I wouldn't trade her in or anything. No Way! But maybe just one more...

One more little warm bundle to snuggle up with all night. One more set of fresh new eyes to gaze into for hours and hours. One more pair sweet smelling feet to tickle (I swear I don't have a foot fetish.) 10 new little fingers to count and wonder over.

But that also means, well...one MORE. One more diaper to change every few hours. One more crying, needy being to tend to who can't tell me what's wrong. One more bottle to make at the most inconvenient time (4am). One more kid to give a bath to, feed, clothe, entertain, rock, get to sleep...all while already doing all of that with the first one.

This is what gives me pause. It's not that I find any of that a burden or undesirable. In fact, I crave to do all of that over again. It's exhausting. It's tedious at times. But it is so very worth every second of it. But it takes so. much. energy. and. commitment. And I already have someone who needs a lot of my energy, my commitment. My devotion just to her. She expects it, deserves it. Am I taking something away from her by giving some of myself to another child? I say "some" but it's really all of me. To both kids. How do I do that?

So, the debate rages on. Mostly inside my own head. And heart. Baby #2???

Time In A Bottle

January 2008

Sitting in the doctor's office waiting room, killing time and fighting exhaustion, John and I had a brief and disturbing conversation. I was flipping through a back issue of Parenting magazine, or maybe it was Parents, I don't know, I just know I am seriously behind in both and they are piling up on my living room table and I grabbed one to read while killing time at the doctor's office.

ANYWAY.

While flipping through this shall-remain-nameless magazine that involves parenting advise, I stumbled across an article with tips on weening your kid from their bottle. And I realized, and in a slightly panicked state yanked John's attention away from his mp3 player long enough to make him realize and share in my panic a little, that it is just about that time. Time to think about weening poor little G away from her bottle. What? YIKES.

One point made and well-taken in said article is that as much as G probably loves her bottle, I probably love it more. And that is probably true. For a while, the bottle and I, we were at odds. I wanted with all my heart to breastfeed my child. I had read up like a good little feminist on how much better breast milk is....yadda yadda, I won't go into all that here. Suffice it to say, I was not able to nurse. I have a hormonal imbalance that made it impossible. Oh, how it broke my heart, even though it was my secret fear throughout my pregnancy (this was after getting over the secret fear that I wouldn't be able to get pregnant, which, obviously, though difficult, untrue.) So, after 4 weeks of trying to nurse, G loosing weight, pumping like crazy only to get 4 oz max, I had a long heartfelt conversation with John, and I gave up, gave in, whatever. We introduced formula and never looked back. That bottle was a kind of symbol of my failed attempt to be an "all-natural" mother. But as G gained weight and thrived, I got over myself. And I guess I kind of developed an attachment to that bottle.

At one year G switched to whole milk and we started reducing the number of bottles that she drinks in a day. She has had a sippy cup for-ever that she drinks gallons of juice and water from with delight. She can drink out of a "big girl" cup (that's a regular cup to you and I) like a pro if I don't mind changing her outfit afterward. But whenever I try to sneakily give her milk in a sippy cup, or even a big girl cup, she takes a few sips, and....that's it. Milk, it's for the bottle, Mom.

Bedtime and naptime. This is our routine. We sit in the cozy rocking chair in her bedroom, she snuggles close on the boppy pillow and cuddles with her blankie, and I (or John, or my mom) give her a bottle, read a story, possibly sing a song. And she falls asleep. Or doesn't. But she relaxes and it is comforting. Routine. It's all the cultural representations of parental love and care, isn't it? What to do now?

The article advised pushing the milk in the sippy cup issue a little harder than I have been. It suggested giving her water in her bottle so that she stops associating it with milk. And it recommends doing away with the naptime bottle first, then finally tackling the bedtime bottle. All good, solid advice, I'm sure. And advice I will probably use. But that panic, it's still there. Sitting on my chest.

Here's a few of the panic inducing thoughts:

1.) How is it possible that she is nearly 18 months old already. A year and a half. A toddler. A child who is getting too big for a bottle. THAT'S what I want to "bottle" (oh, come on! you knew that pun was coming, I gave you the title!) Her babyhood. It's slipping away so fast. Everyday she is a little more grown-up, a little bigger. She is talking more, getting better at climbing/running/jumping/playing, being a kid. When she stops taking the bottle, when our routines change, she will be even that much less of a baby.

2.) How do I get her to go to sleep, now?? Bedtime, actually, is not that big of a deal. She is used to being put down still awake. She plays, talks to herself, sometimes cries a little, but all in the name of "self-soothing." And she eventually falls peacefully asleep. She does get excited after her jammies are on and she gets her blankie. She know a bottle is coming. But I think she can work through that. It's naptime that I'm so worried about. This girl does NOT willingly go down for a nap. She takes her bottle. We rock. We sing. She (hopefully) falls asleep before the bottle runs out. If not, it's a car ride. How am I ever going to get her to take a nap if I take away my not-so-secret weapon?

3.) This next one is silly, but I worry just the same: Will she ever adjust to drinking milk from a cup? She just doesn't seem to want it from a cup. But she's still so little. She needs milk, it's an important part of her diet. Do you think I should entice her with chocolate milk in a sippy cup? Will that work?

4.) I have never taken anything away from her. Not in the long-term, permanent sense. She had pacifiers when she was littler, but she was never a big fan. She would take it if given to her, but she never asked for it, never cared one way or the other. So, when I finally decided, eh, I guess she doesn't need this...no big deal, she could have cared less. Other than that, we have always been introducing new things not taking something away. So far her world has been all wide-eyed wonder and discovery. Not disappointment. Not missing something that is comforting and, well, essential. (Except Mommy and Daddy, when we're at work, I guess that counts.) I have real fear and regret that I have to get her used to the idea losing something. It seems a harsh lesson for someone so young, so new.

I know I am totally over thinking this whole thing! (I tend to do that. Hi, have you met me?) It has to happen sooner or later. 18 months seems to the generally accepted "appropriate time." I suppose I don't have to listen to all those experts, but she can't be drinking out of a bottle at 18 years old (well, not that kind of a bottle...let's not go there!) So, I have to face up to it and tackle it at some point. I just don't want to.

I Must Be Living In A Time Warp

"The cleaning and scrubbing
will wait till tomorrow
For children grow up,
we've learned to our sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs,
dust go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby,
and babies don't keep."

~Unknown (at least to me, I'm lazy like that.)

I have found myself pausing more and more often and just sniffing Giuliana's hair. Or gazing longingly at that diaper-padded tushie. Or smiling inwardly when she lets me feed her.(To my friends who are not yet mothers...just you wait. You may think I am weird and unbalanced now ((well, maybe I am, but that's another discussion)) but you will be thinking these same thoughts one day, trust me.)

I know my days of her allowing me, even needing me, to cuddle with her, rock her, are limited...and running out fast. As I previously blathered on and on (thank you for humoring me, by the way) about, my baby is growing up. A little bit more each day. And, quite honestly, it freaks me out a little bit. I look at that picture up there...it doesn't seem like that long ago. But it was quite literally a lifetime ago! Her lifetime. She is only about 1 month old in that picture. Now she is inching closer and closer to 15 months. Yikes!

What freaks me out more than just the fact that she isn't really a baby anymore is that that means that I am headed into the Frightening World of Living with a Toddler. I have to bring on my parenting A-game, so to speak. Up till now, it's been pretty much cake, I'll be honest. Yes, it's exhausting cake (hmmm, that metaphor sounded better in my head) but really, it's not rocket science to keep a baby alive. Feed them, diaper them, love them to pieces, play with them, put them to bed regularly...that's really all it is, folks. Oh, I know they look all intimidating...these helpless little bundles that Cry, and Poop, and Won't Sleep, and wouldn't survive if you took off to Rome for a week on a whim and forgot about them. But, trust me, you love them so much that really, it just comes naturally.

But toddlers? They are a whole different ball game. You have to start setting rules and boundaries. You have to actually enforce said rules. They need to learn things, like: the alphabet, table manners, how to use the potty, we don't eat yellow snow, colors, how to tie shoes, how to swim, how to color, no we don't eat dirt either. You know, Important Things! And then there are the Temper Tantrums (or, as they are now more politely referred to, "meltdowns"). Oh, G had a doosy the other night...it was Long, and Loud, and Dramatic. Ummm, add "a sense of perspective" to that list of things they have to learn. It freaks me out, in a rather big way, to be responsible for all of this. And it is more here than coming soon, if you know what I mean.

And then, there is just the fact that I won't have a baby anymore. Some of my friends are moving on to their second child. I just can't find myself there quite yet. I can't picture another baby in our family yet. Soon, maybe...but not yet. So, everyday, or as often as possible, I do catch myself cherishing those baby moments that I still have with her. Because, really, babies don't keep. And I don't want to miss it.

Mondays Always Get Me Down (or The Agony of Parenting Week 2)

Yep, it's Monday. The day after I just spent 2 cozy, homey days with my little Chicaboo. And now, I miss her so much, it is making my heart hurt even worse than last week! Don't worry, I promise not to write installments each week about how sorrowful and morose I am feeling. But I gotta tell ya, this working mommy guilt is no laughing matter. And it's not just guilt, it's true heartbreak. This morning G was clingy and crying and all out of sorts. I was sorely tempted to stay home with her, John and I discussed it seriously. She started that last night, actually. I don't know if she doesn't feel good, or her gums hurt from teething, or she is just all mixed up from not having a regular schedule for the past month. I stayed home with her an extra hour this morning before shuttling her to Nanny and Pa's. She went willingly to my mom, but no smile for me. And I have been crying ever since. Kids should come with a warning label. "Caution: may cause manic/depressive symptoms. Beware of constant and inconsolable heartbreak mixed with overwhelming love, joy, and pride." You don't get one without the other.

The Agony of Parenting

A large piece of my heart is missing today. More than my heart, really, I feel like my soul has been ripped away from me. Dramatic? Maybe. But that is how I feel. Today is the official start of G's life separate from me. She is at her grandparent's today. And everyday for the foreseeable future. I sit here in tears, completely unable to focus on work. How will I be able to be her mother when I will not see her for more than a few waking hours every evening? How can I turn my child over to be essentially raised by someone else? Even if it is my parents. She is our daughter. We should be the ones playing with her, teaching her, rocking her to sleep, disciplining her, loving her all day. What a screwed up society we live in. What could possibly be more important that raising your child? Pouring yourself into this person that you brought into the world, to mold them into a good person, an intelligent, caring, kind person. But our society doesn't allow this to be a priority for most parents. It has driven our culture to make ordinary life so freaking expensive that it is nearly impossible for a family to live on one average income. Both John and I make "decent" salaries, for the occupation we are in and our length of employment. But there is NO WAY we could cut out one half of our income. So, there really is no other option but to both work full-time and allow someone else the privilege of raising our daughter. Because, that really is what it amounts to. It is more than simply "watching" her during the day, or "babysitting." She will spend the majority of her waking hours with someone else. And that means that person will be, in essence, parenting her. This makes me terribly sad. No, don't get me wrong. I am so, so grateful that the people who will be caring for her are my parents. That is truly the best option and G will benefit from it. But, it's still not John and I. And I am also so, so grateful that I work for an agency that truly values and supports families and that has not only allowed G to spend her first year with both parents everyday, but will also welcome her on days when I don't have childcare, or on a random day that I just can't bear not having her with me a moment longer. Oh, I am so grateful. But today, it just doesn't make it any easier. Because a physical piece of my body, this part of my heart and soul, is OUT THERE. Not here. And it is a permanent thing. Not just for today, or this week. For the rest of her life. I just want to take her and stuff her back inside my body and carry her with me forever. Really. Man, does this suck.

One (Revised)

Let me tell you what having a one year old has turned out to be like in the last week. She is still as cute and lovable as I remember. However, yeah....she's suddenly one. Some switch must have flipped in her brain after eating that birthday cupcake and she suddenly realized, hey, I can do what I WANT TO DO. She developed this fierce WILL OF HER OWN overnight! Milestones...

So, here is what is becoming a typical scene:

G: playing with...anything she wants to play with, books, kitchen utensils, pots and pans, videos, dvds, napkins, stuff on all the shelves at Michael's and the Giant, possibly even toys...

Mommy (or Daddy): Oh, G, we have to go check your diaper out.

G: NOOOOOOO! I want to play! (In baby language, this is much less civilized)

Mommy: This will be quick and then you can come back and play.

G:NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! I want to play!!!

Mommy: But, G, you are a little smelly, no offense. You don't want to play in that. It will be quick, I promise.

G: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! You are killing me inside! I will not stand for this outrage!!! NO NO NO!!

Mommy: G, really, you need some perspective here, it will only take a minute. Hey, please don't kick Mommy. And could you stop yelling in my ear?

G: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO NO NO NO NO. I MUST PLAY!!! YOU ARE MEAN AND NOT NICE. I WILL DO WHAT I WANT TO DO.

Mommy: Oww, G, don't kick. Let me get this diaper off you...hey, don't crawl away, you'll fall off the changing table..wait! don't stand up yet. Please stop yelling. Geez, can I just get your pants back on? Then you can go play....There, all done. Go play.

G: "Alllllll dooone" Smile (as cute as can possibly be!), crawls back to book shelf to rip more books down...

(By the way, in the span of writing this post, here is what occured:)

ACK!
(Oh, and in the time it took to upload these pictures, G turned the stereo on at volume 40! Somehow, of course, to a heavy drum solo. I think she may be deaf now. She likes to stand directly in front of the speakers...)

Her 1st Thanksgiving

(* I will post pictures as soon as I get them from my mother-in-law. I forgot my camera!)

I am more thankful than ever for my little family. I grow more and more in love with my husband every single day. He is so wonderful to me and such a natural, amazing father to our daughter. And that daughter? She is the absolute best gift I have ever been given in my life. I am so truly blessed with this family. Thank you. Thank you so much...

Giuliana had a BIG day yesterday! She had such a good time. We took the morning slow and she and I played till she went down for her nap. (Mommy participated in a nap as well.) Then we had to rush to get everyone ready to go to John's mom's. We were the LAST ones there!! John's dad beat us there. Anyway, Giuliana just had so much fun playing with her three cousins and just generally being the center of attention. She didn't eat much, she never does. But she did enjoy the pumpkin pie after I forced her to try it (I literally smeared some on her lips just to get her to lick it off. That's when she realized it wasn't poison and was actually pretty yummy. Why doesn't she just trust me and TRY whatever I am offering her? I don't get it.)

The big news is that she took several steps after dinner. Grandpa and Nana coaxed her to do it and she took 1 or 2 steps between them at least 4/5 times. She really got into it once everyone realized what she was doing and started to cheer her on! She is such a HAM. Her daddy was near tears. He is sooooooo not ready for her to start walking. I am really ok with it by now. She took a step and a half the other day in my office, too. She was standing near me, holding onto my leg and she wanted get into my desk drawer (one of her favorite passtimes at work) which was a few feet away. She let go and took 1 1/2 steps over to it...all without realizing what she was doing. I don't think she did it on purpose, she didn't look at me for approval or praise or anything, she just did it cause she wanted to get over there. She's amazing. I don't care that 6 billion people or whatever have learned to walk before....she is the most talented baby EVER, in my completely unbiased opinion.

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

Ugh, I haven't posted in more than a WEEK! Here's why: Work has been kicking my @ss! I have been ultra-super busy at work lately. And did I mention that I have this adorable almost one year old who constantly wants to sit in my lap, have me read her a book or play with her, or wants to escape my office entirely to crawl down the hall and visit her "friends"? That makes it a might challenging to get just about ANYTHING done. But well worth it, too. Last week, G was at my parent's two whole days. I had an all day training on Thursday so she was at Grandma's. Oh how I wish she was with me and I wasn't at the training! It was supposed to be on "Working with Families in Chaotic Environments." That was the title. You would expect it to be about working with families in chaotic environments, yes? That would have been helpful and pertinent to my job. Instead, it should have been titled "Scary and Depressing Videos of Bad Moms and Sad Babies." I would not have gone to that training.

My weekend ran the gambit. Here's the breakdown:

The Good: Saturday was Daddy/Daughter Day and Mommy Drinks Wine Day. John and G spent the day at home with some friends and reportedly had a good time. I spent the day with 6 other Mom's on Seneca Lake visiting wineries. We also had a good time. Gina invited me to go with some of her friends who I have met before. The weather was crappy...it was cold, gray, foggy, gray, rainy, and gray. You couldn't even see the lake! But the wine was very fine. We stopped at Hazelitt, Wagner, Red Newt, and about 6-7 others. There was bad hip hop dancing by moms who shall remain nameless. There were dares to toss your bra on a moose head at Poplar Ridge, but no one was drunk enough yet. And there was dinner at Simeon's in Ithaca, which was very good!
Sunday, I sorted through G's clothes and took out all the 6-9 month stuff that is too small for her now. It made some room for all the cute things she will presumably get for her birthday and Christmas.

The Bad: I saw G for a total of about 45 mins on Saturday. We had breakfast together in the morning, but then I left for the wine trip and didn't get back home till about 9:30pm...well after her bedtime. :(
Also bad, my vacuum broke mid-vacuum on Sunday. I sincerely hope it is just a broken belt or something. The brush is not spinning, which makes it difficult for it to pick up any dog or cat hair, the sole purpose of a vacuum in a house full of hard-wood.
I didn't get to actually put away any of the clothes I pulled from G's closet. They are in a bag in the computer room waiting to be taken up to the attic, a more time-challenging chore than you would imagine it to be. There is no light in our attic, so it is either daylight or flashlight up there. I choose daylight unless it is an emergency. G is awake most of the day....there ya go. I have a whole big PILE of things waiting to go up there. If I only had the time.

The Ugly: The bottom half of my stairs. G loves to climb up the stairs lately! She is so cute working her way to the top! Her new preoccupation while climbing the stairs, however, is to hand me a little baby handful of dog hair after each step. (For any doubters out there, we now have PROOF she's my daughter!) So, I couldn't take the baby criticism anymore and I pledged to vacuum the stairs on Sunday. Refer to "The Bad" for the rest of the story.

Well, there goes my unproductive 10 mins I had to spare at work. I have to leave for an appointment. See ya all whenever I find 10 more!

A B++ Morning

How many "B" words can you find in this picture?


There once was a Big Girl who woke up every morning Bright eyed and Bushy tailed, wearing her "Beautiful Butterfly" pjs. Her mama would get her out of Bed while she clutched her Blankie and Baby. They would go downstairs and she would have Bananas and cheerios for Breakfast while watching Blue's Clues, and afterward have a Bottle. Then, the Big Girl and her mama would play. She would play Band, with her drum and tambourine, and she would dance and dance. She would play with her Blankie and Baby. She loved to play with her Books and have her mama read them over and over to her. She played with her Blocks and she especially loved to dump them out of the Bowl and then put the Bowl on her head. She played with her Bus and her Ball and her Busy Beads. Then, the Big Girl's daddy would come downstairs and he would play with the Band and the Books and the Bowl and the Blocks and the Bus and the Ball and the Busy Beads. And he would cuddle with Blankie and Baby while the Big Girl had another Bottle. And her mama would, gratefully, go back to Bed.

The End

(This novel is based on a true story, I swear.)

What a difference 10 months makes

December 31, 2007


October 26, 2008

Big Girl

G's first time in the "big tub." (Insert a Mommy sob here!!)

Eyes and ears and mouth and nose...

As some of you have witnessed, we have discovered some body parts! It is so much fun! G gleefully says "Eye" and pokes you in the eye (never HER eye, I have noticed...she is smarter than that.) Next she touches your nose. She can't say "Nose" yet, but you better, or she may stick her finger up it! Then, she points to your mouth, or sticks her whole fist in your mouth, same difference, while you say "mmwouf". Then we start all over, and over, and over....

Lately, I have introduced "cheek" and "ear". She immediately said "Ear" (eeao, or something like that)-first time! How frickin' cute!

She even points out the eyes (that's her favorite body part right now) on her Baby, pictures, even cartoon animals in books. She also sometimes thinks random circles on things are eyes, too, but gimme a break, she's 10 1/2 months old!

A little bit of lots of stuff

First things first. The other day John was watching G while I took a nap. He was letting her play in the kitchen, which we both do just about every day, while he was (I think) playing his new guitar in the other room (did I mention he got a new guitar...he is very enamored of it. It's a really nice guitar that he managed, somehow, to convince me that we could afford....) When he checked on G, this is what he found.


Yes, those are all my recipe cards. I think G is going to be a great cook someday, due to the amount of time she spends ingesting...I mean investigating all my recipes.

Next up, G and I had a fun shopping trip today. Tomorrow is Sophia's and Alana's birthday party. They are one year and 4 days apart, 5 and 4 already!! Unbelievable. Anyway, G and I were on a mission for fun birthday presents. We decided to create a fun dress up wardrobe addition for each girl. Dress-up was my absolute FAVORITE thing to play as a little girl, so I am a big proponent of it. We went to Christmas Tree Shop, which I love. Thank God its almost Halloween...they had tons of fun stuff, all at GREAT prices! Here is one of the gift sets I made.



The other is similar but slightly different. Fun? I think so! Yes, those are fairy wings, and a purple fedora. Throw in some groucho glasses and you have a fashion statement!!

By the way, this was G's 2nd outing riding around in the shopping cart like a big kid! No camera both times...bad mama! Last week John and I took her grocery shopping and she was so much happier riding through the store, looking around at everything, talking to everyone we saw...

Speaking of pretend play, G ASTOUNDED me today. I mean it, I was actually near tears, I was so shocked and proud of her. I was chopping up some vegetables and accidentally dropped a piece of green pepper on the floor near where G was playing (in the kitchen again!) She immediately picked it up, and I assumed she was going to eat it. Nope. She crawled right over to her Baby, picked her up and shoved the pepper in her mouth!!! The BABY'S MOUTH. She's 10 months old! I couldn't believe it. She has been making great leaps in her play the last week or so. I work with kids with developmental disabilities, and so do most of my coworkers who see G everyday at work. So we are all always noticing things she is doing and saying things like "Oh, look at her pincer grasp, how developmentally appropriate!" We're OT dorks, I know. Anyway, so, I notice things that some other parents might not. So, she started putting things "In" and "On" last week...big milestone, I was so proud. She was playing with the (now empty) recipe box the other day, trying to put the top back on the box, then trying to put the box back on the shelf where it goes. All very impressive stuff to me. But PRETEND PLAY!?!? I wasn't expecting that, at all! I actually went into the dining room, where another jam session was happening with John and Ken, and stopped them to tell them the news. What a little smartie she is!

And then there was the cooking. I made beef stew and chocolate chip cookies today, both from scratch. I mean, I used chocolate chips from a bag, but I'm not Sweetfern, I'm not going to molest the cow and the cocoa beans myself (just kidding, Kristina, I love you, you're awesome! But homemade cheese??..) Anyway, my dinner was heavenly. I had applesauce on the agenda, too, but I still don't have all those apples peeled, and what I do have peeled is frozen, and I was getting a major headache because by 4pm all I had eaten was a pumpkin muffin at 8am, and I was trying to eat an apple, but my precocious 10 month old STOLE it from me (she's cute=she's spoiled, I gave it to her when she batted those lashes and smiled) and then she needed a bottle and then a diaper change.....so applesauce-never happened. Oh well, there's always tomorrow. I do have to admit to some serious multitasking, though. At one point I was perched on a kitchen stool with Giuliana on my lap, giving her a bottle with one hand while pan-searing beef tips for stew with the other hand. Just call me Martha.

And finally, this is what my much younger (HE thinks) husband is doing right now, while I, the much older and usually much sleepier, wife am still up and away...


He who lets his guard down finds himself posted on the internet!

Apple Hunting

Captured for the first time on film...AMAZING photos of a wild, human, herbivore on the hunt for a precious meal. Never before have we seen such incredible footage of the human baby stalking her prey and devouring it in a lustful gorge! Warning! These unbelievable photos are not for the faint of heart. Women:they may cause your ovaries to scream at you! Men:they may cause your spouses ovaries to scream at you! Proceed with caution.

The Daddy and the Baby human hunt for easy prey.

The Mommy human helps trap some prey to aid her Baby in the hunt.

She sees one.


Amazing footage of this first time hunter stalking her prey.


Oh, she's captured it!

I can't watch! Oh, the humanity!

The Baby eats with delight.





Oh, no! She's spotted us!


The proud Mommy human is pleased with her offspring.


The whole human/canine tribe celebrates a successful hunt!

She's a soprano!

NO, this is not a reference to her Italianness (she's only 1/4 Italian, as I like to remind John. hehe, although, I doubt she could have a more Italian name...) No, I mean, she is an actual soprano. Like her Mama. As some of you know, I am a trained vocalist (fancy, huh?) My favorite thing was always hitting the high, soring notes in the upper reaches of the stratosphere....waaaay above the treble clef score! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! However, I always had to work at it...damn pitch problems. This girl,



however, can hit those notes and reach some I could never have imagined. My little Sarah Brightman. I swear she is trying for that last impossible run of notes at the end of "Phantom of the Opera." She has recently added screeeeeeeeeeeeeching and shreeeeeeeeeeeking to her chorus book of sounds and babbles. High, loud, piercing....attention getting, which is the point, I think. Followed by the most adorable giggles when you react. Charming.

PUMPKINS!!!

Enough said, no?

Hello from G

This is what you get when you mix one independent baby and one jar of pureed sweet potatoes.


Daddy's biggest fan.



Hello from G.

Oh, a quick update on the computer (cause I know you are all waiting with baited breath.) You can uncross your appendages already! It didn't work!! The computer witch doctor was here on Friday. I had to leave work for 2 1/2 hours and come home so he could do his funky voodoo, and it still didn't work. Boo Hoo!! I had to corral a fussy baby and a nosy dog away from this guy sitting at my dining room table with my computer reduced to little tiny pieces. He took it all apart, replaced the mother board, the USB ports, the memory, and something else? And no go. So, he is coming back next week to replace the harddrive. If that doesn't work, they damn well better give me a brand spankin' new computer, I'll tell you what!

A Season of Change

Well, I packed up all of G's summer clothes this weekend. Little baby skin baring sun-dresses and shorts. Adorable tiny bathing suits. All packed away in a big plastic bag.

John was kind enough to point out that she will never be small enough to wear any of it again. Yes, I know that, I am trying not to think about it. But sometimes I can't not think about it. We are moving into fall, a change of seasons, and a season of change. It seems it is always a season of change when you have a baby. They just don't stop changing, growing, needing you a little less each day as they learn to do more for themselves.

I got out all of Giuliana's warm fall/winter clothes. Here is her fall closet.

Heavy on sweaters, long pants, turtlenecks, stockings...very little soft, bare baby skin. She will need to be wearing shoes soon, too. She is inching closer and closer to that inevitable time when she stands on her own, then takes those first wobbly steps. She will need a good, strong shoe for that. No more bare little piggy toes.

Another change is coming soon, too. Here is G trying out her big girl car seat.

Still a little big for her, but she is growing out of her carrying seat. She will be in this seat in the next few weeks, as soon as I can let her go enough do it. Oh, some things will be easier when she is in this seat. I won't have to carry that heavy car seat around-12lbs of seat, 20+ lbs of baby is a killer on the back. But this change will mean I will have a big girl who rides in the front of the grocery cart, not a baby who is strapped in her car seat on top of the cart. It will mean carrying a wide eyed girl on my hip into the world, not having a tiny newborn who sleeps peacefully unaware through most trips, snuggled tight in her seat. And soon enough it will mean holding her hand as she walks into her own world.

Her new word is baby. She learned to say that this weekend. And everytime she says "baby," it reminds me again that she is quickly outgrowing this word, and soon we will have a little girl.

Scenes from my kitchen, again

Geez, what is it about impending autumn that makes me loose my mind? I haven't nested this bad since I was 8 months pregnant. I can't seem to get out of my kitchen these days. I like to cook. I would even go so far as to say I love to cook. But ever since I brought home a squalling, needy, energy-sapping newborn (a very cute one, though) my urge to be anywhere near my stove has been about zilch. But for some reason, it's back, with a vengence! Fall has always been my favorite season to cook. Nobody enjoys being in the kitchen in the summer. Summer is all about grilling in the back yard, which is usually John's domain. So, come fall, I relish getting back inside and domesticating up some yummy, warm, comforting foods. So, I guess my 9 month hiatus has given my natural proclivities a major boost this year.

Anyhoo, here are some scenes from my kitchen today. On the menu:

Chile con Carne
Apple-Cinnamon Swirl Bread
Homemade Applesauce




This is what else was going on in my kitchen today.



That's the hole John cut in the basement door for the cats to use. (Ignore the ugly door, it is getting painted really soon, I swear.)


Peekaboo!



A busy kitchen



This one is from yesterday. It was G's first trip to the Binghamton Farmer's Market. That's where we picked up the apples, peppers, onions and three cute little mini pumpkins.

Tomorrow, I endeavor to get out of the kitchen and into G's closet. I have to change out her summer clothes for her fall/winter wardrobe. Stay tuned!