Girl Talk

Our Hollywood Baby with her Nana on Christmas Eve.

From the moment I wanted children, I wanted a daughter. In fact, you could even say that I didn't particularly want children. I just wanted a daughter. I wanted the cute pink ballerina skirts, the giggles, the baking, and (yes) the shopping. I wanted tea parties and secrets. Finger painting in nothing but tights and warm summer softball games complete with the wind-up pitch.

But, let's face it, there are definitely aspects of parenting a daughter that parents of sons probably don't worry so much about. I suddenly find myself taking the time to read articles with such titles as "Kids Who Won't Eat." Did you know that the typical onset age of anorexia is now 9 years old? Or that the Eating Disorders Specialists of Illinois treat patients as young as 6?

The authors seem to think the nation's battle against obesity is to blame for the progressively younger patients suffering from eating disorders. Kids apparently sit through grade-school-level nutrition classes and start thinking food is bad. Never mind the fact that this article appeared in the very same issue as the article titled, "Get Your Pre-Baby Body Back."

Meanwhile, teenage pregnancies are also on the rise. Apparently, this is good old George W's fault. Not that he's traveling the country in a malicious scheme to knock up 13 year olds. No. Definitely not that. But he got some hair-brained idea that maybe instead of handing out condoms to 13 year olds we should advise them away from sex altogether. Of course this is insane. Where does he think he lives? This is 21st century America. Nobody even knows what self control and strong parenting even are. Hasn't he seen that new reality show "Teen Moms?" Doesn't he know what he's caused? All he has to do is look at magazine covers in the check-out line to see all those celebrity teen moms whose lives he's ruined. Unfortunately, I don't know which president to blame for those insidious nutrition classes that have led to 6 year old girls starving themselves.

And bullying. This is one parents of sons may be more interested in. We all know bullying has reached remarkable heights of cruelty. Some people blame the Internet for this one. Kids can't just go home to escape bullies because--guess what?--bullies are waiting for them online. And, of course, the Internet means that a public disgrace is just that much more public. A little less than a year ago I was reading Cosmo (don't get me started--it's a long story involving the mid-subscription end of a nice interior decorating magazine and Conde Nast's remarkably poor judgment in finding a "replacement" subscription) and stumbled onto an article discussing online "smack talk" sites. Cosmo had the good sense to condemn such sites and the people who contribute to them. Cosmo also had the hypocrisy to include their very own "Do's and Don'ts" section making fun of women's fashion sense. As if those black bars across the eyes will keep anyone from recognizing themselves. And just the other day, I decided to check out a website I'd been hearing about--People of WalMart. Big mistake. Rather than enjoying any part of that experience, I ended up crying for the poor people being made fun of: drag queens and hairy obese men in overalls and girls stuffed into too-short shorts. Maybe they shouldn't be dressed like that but we definitely shouldn't be saying some of the things I read on that site.

Bottom line: blame the nutritionists for your child's anorexia, blame George W for your daughter's teenage pregnancy, and blame the anonymous Internet (but not anyone you know who reads it) for any mean, bully-ish tendencies your child may develop.

So This Is Christmas

This is the first year Craig and I haven't made it back to Middle America to celebrate Christmas with snow, family, and starry skies. We've always gone back. Even on years when we couldn't really afford to and probably shouldn't have. The thought of staying put and celebrating Christmas on the beach with sun and sand and palm trees used to make me cry.

This year was different. We told family a year ago that we wouldn't be coming back for this Christmas, and I was prepared to be sad and lonely when the day finally arrived. Praise God I wasn't at all. Yes, I missed seeing Great Grandpa Joe dressed in a reindeer hat. Yes, I missed the snow (kind of). Yes, I missed playing Christmas carols with my li'l sis. But Christmas came as it always does, and even though the whole holiday snuck up on me and I never made any Christmas cookies and did a pathetic job with cards, it still felt like Christmas. Craig's parents flew out to be with us, and Evelyn had fun tearing into everyone's packages, and close friends came over for the traditional fondue brunch, and new friends from Italy and Lubbock, Texas showed up, and I baked a pie and spent more time in the kitchen on Christmas than I've ever had to before in my life. We drove around to look at Christmas lights and we went to a musical Christmas Eve service. We played group party games and took Evelyn to the park. We shopped and ate and slept. And we loved the sun and sand and palms.

The whole season this year made me think about Christmas in a new way. I thought of a speaker I'd recently heard describe the first Christmas all her children were grown up and out of state for the holiday. I remembered how she said she and her husband went out to dinner Christmas Eve and had to leave early because all she could do was weep. I thought of all my family I was missing. I realized that the year may come when I don't even have Evelyn or Craig with me to celebrate. And I thought how--despite what the world may tell you--Christmas isn't really about family at all. It's a time to be with family, yes. But Christmas is about Christ. And you can always have Him, no matter where you are.

What We're Thankful For

I procrastinate. I'm a procrastinator. Us procrastinators tend to think that procrastinating is something we'll grow out of. That somehow...someday...we'll magically stop procrastinating. But--in the meantime--we procrastinate.

Scheduling Evelyn's baby dedication at church was no different. Being a parent doesn't make you more responsible. It just makes you more behind on doing responsible things. I waited so long to schedule her dedication that when I told my friends the date (the Saturday night service, Nov 20) I found out Evelyn's betrothed, Baby Liam, was getting dedicated the day after Evelyn's dedication (the Sunday morning service, Nov 21).

There was some momentary panic. I nearly called the church back and rescheduled. I had visions of a baby dedication service that none of our friends or family attended. I cried and told Craig how I hated it here in Southern California. I pointed to a featured city article in one of my new magazines--I showed him how it featured the family-friendliness of Kansas City. 

And Craig lovingly reminded me that a baby's dedication service isn't about being the center of attention. That it doesn't matter if none of our close friends or family witness it. That the only thing that does matter is that the Lord sees us.

So last weekend, at the Saturday night service, we formally dedicated our baby bird to the Lord in front of the church. And guess what? A LOT of our friends out here made a point of rearranging their weekend schedules to come to church Saturday night in order to be there. Even Baby Liam and his parents came. And guess what else? Rather than having our whole troop clomp back to church the next morning, our senior pastor allowed us to do a never-before-done DUAL baby dedication. So Baby Evelyn and Baby Liam and their parents went up front together and prayed together over our babies.

It was a beautiful, blessed, and sacred night in our lives. Not only did I tell God I trusted Him and depended on Him to raise my daughter, but He told me that no matter where I am, I will never be alone. Not only will He be with me, but He will give me the friends and "family" that I so desperately need.

A few days later, some "real" family flew out (my parents) and we were able to celebrate Thanksgiving with some of those family-like friends. We didn't do the whole "what are you thankful for" thing, but we didn't have to. I'm thankful for them. For each and every single person who sat at that table with me (and for all those who would have liked to!).

I love all of you. Thank you for being my family--whether or not we're related "by blood!"

"Finger" Foods

When Evelyn was just a few weeks old, I remember a mother with an older baby exclaiming, "I'd forgotten how little my baby used to be!" I remember thinking that I didn't really believe her. How could anyone forget how tiny their newborn is? How could anyone think that mother's 16 lb "monster baby" was small?

Well, Evelyn's reached that point. Just last night, I saw a 6 week old at church and couldn't believe how tiny she was. I couldn't believe Evelyn's really grown that much--even though the nursery workers assured me she has!

I also remember registering for baby food plates, sippy cups, and a highchair, and thinking that it'd be "a long time" before I actually needed to use any of them. Well, we started Evelyn on rice cereal last weekend and I soon realized I shouldn't have put off buying those items!

While at Babies R Us buying some of those items, I met another baby Evelyn's age. I liked their family instantly because they told me Evelyn "looks like an ice princess." Anyway, they asked, "Is she on chicken yet?" Come to find out, their baby has been eating solids since he was 3 months old!

Well, I for one think that's a little on the early side. But then again, as this video proves, Evelyn has Baby Liam to munch on whenever she gets hungry!

I want to live!

I had a bad morning. Nothing much happened, really. It was just bad. Surprising how little it takes sometimes. I hadn't slept well, Evelyn woke earlier than usual, a stack of dirty dishes greeted me, a request for revisions came through my inbox, a fast-approaching deadline reminder popped up on my calendar, my dog wanted walked, my Bible study was far behind, people were coming to my home in a matter of hours, the church newsletter was sorely neglected.

I could keep going but it'll just make me upset again. (Particularly since many of those past-tense verbs should accurately be present-tense.) Mostly I think I was jealous of other mothers who don't need to work at all--never mind the fact that I'm abundantly blessed to work as little and as conveniently as I do!

Anyway, I decided I needed a good little yell followed by a good little cry. And after the good little cry, the day got better. I worked away as much as I could on my projects. I played with Evelyn. I walked to the bank and the store and on my way back decided to take the longer loop around the park so I could pray. This is what I prayed:

"Lord, all I want is for my needs to be met. Just give me food and let the bills be paid. Thank you that I don't even need to request it. Thank you that you're doing that already."

And, I'll be honest, I also prayed:

"I don't like needing to trust you for these things. But I thank you that I can."

Back at home, Evelyn mercifully (I know it was God) took a longer-than-normal nap and I made myself physically walk away from the computer and eat my lunch at the coffee table with my Beth Moore Bible study book out. Can you guess what today's study discussed? Prosperity and contentment!

Here's her prayer:

"More than anything else, O God, we pray that You would prosper our loved ones [read: me!] with an abundance of You! If they can handle some ease and earthly success in the process, so be it! But whatever You do, O God, insist that they live. Really live. 'The thief cometh not but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy: [You have] come that [we] might have life and that [we] might have it more abundantly.' (John 10:10) O Lord, make us courageous enough to pray that no earthly luxury would ever cheat us of true prosperity."

All I have to say to that is "AMEN!"

Happy Halloween!

I had given up on Halloween this year. Costume shops are depressing things. They are places where you can spend $50 on fabric that will barely survive the night. Places where men get arrested for peeping under women's dressing room doors (yes, we saw this happen). Places that make you think lingerie is actual clothing. Places that sell things like "Lord Lucifer" costumes, reminding you of the satanic nature of the holiday and making you question whether that bumble bee costume will somehow lead your infant daughter into future pagan worship.

If I had my way, we'd have locked the doors, shut off the lights, made hot chocolate, and watched old black and white Audrey Hepburn movies all night. (Mmm. Maybe we can do that next weekend.) But I didn't have my way. We had a church-sponsored Harvest Party to attend and a "Bean the Pirates" booth to man.

So I had a bumble bee costume for Evelyn. I thought I'd get a bumble bee costume for myself to match. Can I just say that there's a HUGE difference between infant, children's, and women's bumble bee costumes? Yikes! So I thought I'd wear an old frilly green skirt with an orange top, make myself a wand and maybe a tiara and be a "Pumpkin Fairy." Then Craig reminded me I'd thrown out the old frilly green skirt to save space. So then I wasn't going to be anything. Then Halloween morning dawned and I put on an orange top and black pants and suddenly thought, "I should just paint my face like a jack o'lantern!" So we head to the pharmacy to buy orange and black face paint. No go: they're all sold out. So we go to the crafts store. Again: sold out. So we make our way to that dreaded place full of bloody vampire teeth, peeping toms, and wannabe porn stars: the costume shop.

By this point, I'm really excited about my jack o'lantern idea. It's funny. It's cool. It's cheap. But Craig isn't content to buy the paint and leave. He wants to walk around, see if there's any last minute costume idea inspirations. And that's when we see it: a "bumble accessories kit" for $10. It has a ridiculously flimsy yellow and black striped chest piece that ties around your waist and neck, silly little glitter wings, and a black hood with yellow antennae. Pair these with yellow and black striped tights, throw on my black skirt and top, and there you have it: I'm a bumble bee after all.

I was pretty pleased with it most of the night. Particularly while waiting for the cross walk signal on my way to church when other pedestrians and skate boarders came to admire mine and Evelyn's matching costumes. Of course, then we got to the Harvest Party, where she quickly overheated and came out of her costume. Then I just felt like a silly little bee buzzing around all by my lonesome.

Well, not really. There was a pirate and Thumper to keep me company! (There was a walking oven with a bun inside too, but she didn't make it into the photo.)

After originally publishing this post, I found a photo of the walking oven in my inbox. Yay!

More Laughter

For all those who enjoyed the original belly laugh, here's "The Mirror Laugh." Enjoy!

Our Past Month

So every time I think it's been too long for me to bother writing another blog post (because surely everyone has given up on me), someone asks when the next post will come and I find myself shoving dirty dishes and incomplete freelance projects aside just to oblige. Well, not just to oblige. I rather like writing them and just need to feel like they're not a complete waste of time.

It's been about a month since my last post. In that time, we traveled back to Middle America for my sister's wedding. A new, fairly time-consuming freelance project (that will run through April) hit my inbox. I started babysitting my friend's 2 month old son. Evelyn started rolling over, laughing hysterically, croaking, humming, and talking to herself in general. And Craig ... well, Craig kept on doing what he does and then some. I worked until 11pm some nights and he picked up the slack with dishes, dinners, and errands. Hopefully, new projects have settled down, I've hit my groove, and our new babysitting arrangement will help me devote more time and attention to being a mother while still letting me make a bit of money.

Here's a photo recap to get everyone up to speed.

While in Middle America, we caught up with old friends (who had a baby exactly five days after we did!) and visited a real, live pumpkin patch. You know, the kind where they actually have pumpkins growing from the ground. Where there's corn mazes and squash sling shots and hay rides.

We helped my sister get ready for her wedding. (Isn't she beautiful?) Evelyn's shirt says "I heart my aunt." So sweet!

After the wedding, we posed for a family shot at the reception. This would be just about 15 minutes before all hell broke loose and Evelyn let everyone know just how tired, grumpy, and fed up with the whole thing she really was. She'd had it with that darn bow on her head, the strange people holding her, and the remarkably sound-proofed room we found to feed her in. She didn't smile again until she was back at Grammy and Grandpa's. (See below.)

Yep, that's right. Scream, scream, scream, get to Grammy and Granpa's, smile. Note how happy she is and how tired I am.

The next day, we loaded up the Suburban and met Craig's brother, his wife, and our two nephews at a pretty cool zoo. Evelyn was more interested in the camera than she was in the giraffe, but at least her admission was free.

The day after we landed back in Southern California, I started watching Evelyn's betrothed a few hours each week. Sure they look sweet and innocent here, but most of the time, if Evelyn isn't chewing on the poor guy's hand, she's throwing a fit watching me feed him. She has a lot to learn about how to win a guy's heart!

Firsts

Today some friends of ours threw a party to reveal the gender of their unborn baby. There was colored cake, ice cream, and games (some of you will remember when Craig and I threw a similar party). One of the games we played was "Baby Family Feud," complete with such baby-minded questions as "What event don't parents want to miss?" Most of the answer revolved around "firsts:" first steps, first words, etc.

Well, we've had a lot of firsts today. Most notably, Evelyn rolled over for the first time! We're pretty certain it was an accident, but still. She was laying on her back on our bed and Craig held out his arms and said, "Come to Daddy!" And much to his surprise, she did! (Well, she tried.) She rolled from her back onto her side towards him; the softness of the bed pushed her on over to her belly--much to her chagrin.

Today we also (finally!) managed to capture our sweet little bird's precious laugh on camera. We've been trying for a couple weeks now, but she stops as soon as she sees a camera. She's quite the giggle box, as you can see. We even grabbed a good clip of her belly laugh in this clip! (And oh yeah--our friends are having a boy: Gabriel John.)

Doing Life Together

Today's my birthday. As my mom reminded me last night at about 9pm, "29 years ago [she] was laboring HARD to bring a reluctant baby into the world." It's also the day that my own little one turns 16 weeks old (aka: 4 months).

It's tough being so far away from family on days like this (and not just because my father-in-law, in his eagerness to wish me a happy birthday and apparently forgetting the two hour time difference, woke me at 3:45am with a text message!). It's made the more difficult knowing that today is also my little nephew's 2nd birthday, tomorrow is my little sister's 26th birthday, and Saturday is my mother's (we'll leave it blank) birthday. But praise God, for He has blessed me with an amazing community of adopted family and friends clear out here in Southern California.

Craig and I had various church leadership meetings to attend yesterday afternoon. In the women's meeting, our women's pastor talked about her hometown in Maine of 700 people, a general store, an antique shop that's always closed, and two churches of 70 members each. She described the fund-raising jars set up in the general store and gas station to raise money for a teenaged boy who fell off a roof and his single mother. She described the outpouring of love (and food!) that the community gave her as she mourned a death in the family. She described the unlocked doors, the tire swings, the children riding bikes down the middle of the road. I sat in the meeting and felt homesickness wash over me. I thought, "That's what I had. That's what I want for my Evelyn."

Well, as my mother so wisely pointed out to me in August: God has me exactly where He wants me. God has Evelyn exactly where He wants Evelyn. If Evelyn needed family nearby, He would have us near family. But He doesn't, because she doesn't. He has us here because, for whatever reason, here is where she (and I and Craig) need to be.

In the general leadership meeting following my bout of homesickness, our head pastor talked about his desire for our church to grow in community. And he defined community as "doing life together." Community is not about tire swings and unlocked doors. It's about pouring love into other people's lives as you go through life together. And that's exactly what Craig and I have been blessed with out here. We have a community tucked away in this massive urban sprawl. We mourn together, we celebrate together, we eat, fast, and pray together. We do life together.

Praise God! (I'm so blessed to have you guys--you know who you are!)

Meanwhile, here's a video of my baby. Because I know that's the only reason most of you read this blog anyway.

My Life Lately

The problem with blogs is that (at least in my experience) when you have the time to actually write them, you have nothing to say--that's why you have so much time on your hands. But when you have a lot to report, you have absolutely no time to sit down and report it. Well, that's been my life the past few weeks since my last post, so here's a brief pictoral overview.

Two weeks ago, we loaded Evelyn up for her very first plane ride. Despite a mammoth poop blowout that occurred in the security line (and was discovered when I lifted her out of her carseat to go through the metal detectors), it was really uneventful. She smiled and made friends with everyone around us before falling fast asleep.

We landed in Kansas City at 5:45pm Friday evening and were at a wedding by 7pm, where Evelyn met Great Grandma Norie, Great Aunts Millie and Dorothy, her soon-to-be uncle KC, and a whole host of second and even third cousins.(Yes, the third cousin pictured with Evelyn below is two weeks older and weighs half as much. My baby is such a chub-a-wub!)

Around 10pm, we left the Kansas City metro area for a two hour ride to our hometown, where we bedded down for the night late and woke semi-early to get things ready for my sister's bridal shower the next day. Craig took Evelyn with him to his parents' house, where she met her Cousins Ethan and Kendall, her Aunt Andrea and Uncle Chad, and her Big Papa.

Prior to the bridal shower, she posed for a four-generation photo shoot with me, my sister, my mom, and Grandma Norie.

After the bridal shower, she got to meet Great Grandparents Trautwein, Great Aunts Susan and Shelly, Second Cousin Jen, and a whole host of other greats and seconds.

Then on Sunday, she and I headed to a baby shower held in her honor, where she met Great Great Aunts, Great Aunts, Second Cousins, etc. that she hadn't yet met. Other family members are currently hoarding these photographs. :)

Monday, we took her to Great Grandma Phyllis and Great Grandpa Joe's house, where she met several people, including Great Great Aunt Jean and Third Cousin (is that the right relationship? My dad's cousin.) Kathy (who didn't like having her picture taken).

We arrived back in SoCal around noon on Tuesday, where my best friend Rachel had been struggling unsuccessfully to start labor for several days (really, let's be honest, several weeks). She was induced on Wednesday and gave birth to Evelyn's betrothed, Liam Eric.

After this, our joyous string of events turned sour. Our beloved dog of almost five years, Chloe, (who has been progressively becoming more and more aggressive) escaped out of our house and proceeded to attack a neighbor's small dog. Being unable to afford the expense of a pet behaviorist, knowing we can't keep her around so many small children, and unable to find a no-kill shelter willing to take her in, we came to the very difficult decision to end her life yesterday, August 31. She was a very loving, loyal pet to our family and the house seems very empty without her, but we know that she had a happy, love-filled life and that she never suffered loneliness or pain. Here's how we choose to remember her.

Kansas-bound

We're busy gearing up for Evelyn's first plane travel--well, okay, her first travel of any kind--this weekend. It'll be a whirlwind weekend packed with a wedding, two showers, and various immediate and extended family visits. I'm trying to figure out if we really need both a stroller and a baby carrier while Craig is trying to figure out how to arrange drop off and pick up at LAX when we need a baby carseat. Neither of these hurdles should be too difficult to work out. We'll see how it goes. In the meantime, we're getting Evelyn excited to visit the Little Apple with the KSU apparel some old coworkers of mine sent our way. Go CATS!

Our BIG Bundle of Joy

Well, it's been 9 weeks and our new life is finally starting to feel like a real life again and not just some some strange aberration. I zip out 2-3 freelance articles a day while scarfing down salads at lunch and banana bread at breakfast. I make sure Evelyn gets a little tummy time (despite her wails of protest) during play time and I try to get her to bat at various toys. Mostly I'm just happy if she waves her arms and grins. When she loses interest, I read to her, and what I read to her depends entirely on the day. Since today is grocery day, for instance, I just finished reading her the Mirin Glazed Salmon recipe from Nigella Lawson. Yesterday, because I was tired of the "Icky Sticky Frog" and the "Icky Sticky Anteater" (yes, they both have basically the same title and are about various sticky-tongued creatures' eating habits), I read Evelyn a chapter or two from East of Eden. She shows equal amounts of interest in all these books. I read that babies just like the sound of their mother's voice and, since I rarely go around the house talking to myself, decided reading anything I could grab would suffice. It seems to. I think she seems to prefer those books with poetic cadences, but maybe that's just my preferences coming through.

Apparently, though, I need to start encouraging more tummy time and other active types of play (despite her squalls). At her last appointment Tuesday morning, she weighed in at 12 lbs, 13 ounces and 22 inches long. Apparently, these measurements put her in the 50th percentile for height and the 99th for weight! Our doctor told us that if Craig and I were overweight or if Evelyn was on formula, she'd tell us to monitor her food intake and weight closer. But as it is, she said I just have particularly rich milk and Evelyn's weight is entirely healthy. Unfortunately, that evening I read an article claiming that babies who weigh more tend to develop such motor skills as turning over and crawling later than other babies. Apparently that additional weight is a bit much for them. Which could explain why Evelyn gets so worn out when I put her on her tummy. 

My life ... again!

We found a "new" cheeseburger joint over the weekend. I know I should be ordering salads and, in fact, this joint has some pretty amazing salads on the menu, but when it comes to cheeseburgers and pizza I just have a really hard time saying "no." Thankfully, most of the pregnancy weight slipped blissfully away while I continued to eat cheeseburgers and failed to do anything more strenuous than walks around the park a block away. But that seems to have ground to a halt and I find myself hovering at five pounds left to go before I'm back to my pre-pregnancy weight (and 10 pounds left to go to my ideal weight). So I ordered a new Tae Bo workout video. I told Craig, while eating my cheeseburger, that once it's apparent the video alone won't be enough THEN I'll start ordering salads like a good little almost-29-year-old-trying-to-stay-25-year-old female.

Yes, it seems my days of eating like I'm pregnant are numbered. I suppose they should have ended weeks ago (9, to be exact) but pregnancy creates terrible habits that are hard to break when you find yourself breastfeeding and still every bit as hungry (maybe even more?) as when you were pregnant.

But I think I'm glad that my diet life is about to return to normal. It seems to symbolize a return to normalcy in general and, really, this past weekend saw a lot of "normal" return. For one thing, Craig and I returned to the movies! Our last movie was in early May when I was weeks away from delivering and we sat through almost 3 hours of Robin Hood; I thought I was going to die I was so uncomfortable! This time around was much better. We left Evelyn with some friends (her first time staying with non-family) and went to see "Inception," which is also almost 3 hours long but was much more bearable--even enjoyable.

Also of note: we left Evelyn with the church nursery for the first time. Since she's getting her two month vaccines tomorrow, I'd planned to keep her with me, but when I headed to the nursing mother's room, I found the nursery workers standing around twiddling their thumbs because they didn't have any babies! So I decided to give them something to do, dropped her off and asked them to feed her her bottle. Which meant that I actually got to sit in the sanctuary with the adults and take notes ... though I didn't actually take notes because I'd mistakenly left my pen in the diaper bag with the nursery workers. Well, getting back to normal can't happen all at once.

Two Months!

It's amazing what changes in eight weeks. And no, I'm not talking about what changes in babies.

No, what I'm talking about is the change from a clean, orderly home to one littered with damp burp cloths and various pieces of baby furniture--the bouncer, the soon-to-be-outgrown Moses basket, and the still-unused highchair. The change from actually drying and putting away dishes to letting them air dry for 24 hours before putting them away and washing the next batch. The realization that going to the movies can no longer be a last-minute decision on a lazy Sunday afternoon but must be planned out days in advance--a babysitter must be arranged, emergency contact list filled out, and milk provided.

I've begun speaking in the 3rd person and altered my already-mild expletives: "Stink! Mama has spit-up all down her shirt." My baby does not crap or even poop. She "poos" and her diaper is full of "poo." My husband and I have left off debating how Calvinistic election works and instead argue over what to call the pacifier and even over the need to call the pacifier anything other than "pacifier." (Mama's tired of coming up with cutesy names for everything.)

But these changes are not bad and could even be called beautiful. Mama might even say the cluttered house is more beautiful than the clean one she once tried (rather unsuccessfully, to be honest) to keep clean. And, of course, the changes wrought in Little Evelyn Grace these past 8 weeks have been extraordinary, as can be seen from these photos:

Evelyn Grace 3 days old

Evelyn Grace 8 weeks old.

The saga continues ...

We do our best. We carefully note what time Evelyn eats. We lay her on her brand new Baby Einstein floor gym (complete with motion-activated music and lights); we shake rattles to the side of her head to make her eyes track; we lay her down for naps after an hour and half of wakefulness. In the evenings, we bathe her and massage lotion all over her body; we wrap her in footed pajamas and read to her from a book; we use two nursery nightlights (one with music and moving animals); we give her gas drops and vitamin drops; we swaddle her; we unswaddle her; we rock her in our arms while making up words to what we think are lullaby tunes; and, finally, we bring her out to snuggle with us on the couch until 11pm or so, at which time we feed her again, sing and rock her in our arms again, turn on the Twilight Turtle, and (this time FINALLY) watch her drift peacefully off to sleep.

We try to limit her late afternoon napping and we try to wake her at a reasonable early hour, but for whatever reason Little Bird does not want to go to sleep at her 9pm bedtime. We've been told it's gas. We've been told it's her afternoon napping schedule. We've been told she just wants to be with us. We've been told we've spoiled her. Who knows? Regardless, Craig and I have decided we don't particularly care if she gets held until 11pm. Yes, we'd rather she went to sleep at 9pm. Yes, we care about her learning to put herself to sleep; yes, we're worried that we're creating a future 2 year old tyrant. But "letting her cry it out" isn't working. We tried that. She cried so long, the next thing we knew it was time to feed her again. And no, she doesn't cry when we lay her down for naps in the middle of the day.

What all this means is that little Evelyn has had her first Star Wars experience! Since she won't sleep until almost midnight, and since Craig and I have been watching the Star Wars saga this past week, she has gotten to fall asleep on Craig's belly while listening to that unmistakable sound track:

da da da daaaa dum da da da daaaa dum da da da daaaa dum da da da dum....

Maybe that's what we should try next: a Star Wars soundtrack lullaby CD!

Light, Water, and Other Fetishes

For the past couple of weeks, things have been rough in our household come about 8pm every night. Little Bird may be the very model of a quiet, happy, and content baby but every evening, that quiet, happy, content little baby has been replaced by a screaming, crying, discontent bundle of tears. We've blamed it on long active days, too many naps spent in car seats or laps, gas, hunger, boredom, and loneliness.

We've learned a few things since then. For starters, we've learned that Little Bird doesn't like the dark. I don't say she's afraid of the dark, because I'm not quite sure what she'd be afraid of this young in life--but then again, who knows. Why are any of us afraid of the dark, really? Anyway, this realization came around 1am Saturday morning (i.e., Friday night) after three hours of rocking, singing, burping, gas-drop-giving, pacifiering, and nursing. At 1am, Craig had just laid her back down after another round of rocking, crawled into bed, and shut off the light when she started screaming again. We looked at each other in tears and said, "I just don't know what to do any more."

Well, it was my turn to take her, so I pushed the covers off and got out of bed. I started rocking and singing to her, which quieted her down. Then before I put her back in her Moses basket, Craig said, "Is there light in the room when she naps during the day?" Well, yes. Even with the lights off and the curtains drawn, there's more light in the room during the day than at night. So I turned on the light in the entryway to our master bedroom, rocked her a bit more, laid her down, got into bed, snapped off our bedside lamp, and....nothing! Sweet, absolute nothing until 7am. Hallelujah! Since then, we've used a crib toy her Nana bought for her as well as a "Twilight Turtle" that glows blue and shines star constellations on the ceiling.

We've also learned that our Bird much prefers the sound of rushing water to whale songs, static, and heart beats. The other day when she was crying (and the nightlight was on), I headed in to try the pacifier but decided to switch her recording from whales to water and rub her belly a bit. The moment the whales stopped and the water came on, she quieted down and shut her eyes. Guess she's a water baby like her mama.

With these few key pieces of information firmly known, our Little Bird is now able to completely relax and sleep.

Taking an Artistic Turn

The first "normal" day of motherhood after saying goodbye to all our guests wasn't a very restful one. After waking up for her 10am feeding, Evelyn decided she didn't want to take any more naps that day. I think she was too excited about her new tree to sleep and stayed up all day waiting for Auntie D to get off work so we could start painting.

I'd picked out a tree design that I liked but needed D for her perfectionist artistic sensibilities (I don't have the patience to go slooowly smoothing out rough paint edges). So when she got here, she drew the design onto the wall in pencil, asking me the whole time if it was the right size, placement, etc. We ended up washing the pencil off and starting over again to make it a little smaller. But once D had the drawing finished, we were able to start painting it in!

And, okay, we may have goofed off a bit too.

But we still had it finished by 1am and felt pretty good about ourselves. (Though this picture doesn't show it very well, the branches are pink and the birds/flowers are white.)

And, of course, Evelyn cried throughout the whole 5.5 hr process. Which means she was up pretty much the whole time from 10am Thursday until 1am Friday. Thankfully, once Auntie D left and things quieted down a bit in our household, she fell right asleep. Unfortunately, Craig somehow messed up the alarm clock so that she didn't wake again until 7am. Which means she went eight hours between her 11pm feeding and her 7am feeding. She seemed perfectly content when I woke her at 7am but I feel bad all the same. Not sure a 5 week old is supposed to go 8 hours without food. Guess she was tired. But with this amazing new place to sleep, who can blame her for not wanting to wake up?

Back to Routine?

Well, it's been a whirlwind around here since Evelyn was born, but the last of the out of town visitors left early this morning and it's supposedly "back to routine." The problem is, I'm not sure what the routine is supposed to be. I figured it up last night: in 37 days, I had 15 that were supposedly "routine," and those were full of me recovering from major surgery while trying to get in the swing of breastfeeding, diapering, burping, and creating stable wake and sleep times. People were bringing me dinners, I was skipping out on Bible studies, and you can forget about my daily walks around the park.

Suddenly, all this is supposed to change: I'm supposed to get back to freelance work, manage the baby, cook, clean, and consistently attend to all the responsibilities I had before having Evelyn. And all this will happen. I will start exercising again (with my doctor's expected approval of such "strenuous activity" due to come on Monday). I will walk my dogs. I will bring in what little money I can while working part-time from home. I will make sure the dishes are washed and put away every evening. I will not neglect my baby. It sounds intimidating to me right now, and I'm so far behind in things that thinking about today makes me tired, but I'm definitely ready to feel like a "normal" human being again.

Of course, first I have some "non-routine" activities that need done today--like painting a tree on one of the nursery walls! Maybe routine can start tomorrow...

Happy 1 Month, Evelyn!

My little bird turns 1 month old today. Part of me finds it hard to believe she's that old already while another party of me can't believe my life has changed so much in such a short amount of time. Here are some highlights of the past month.

Saturday afternoon, after being told that the contractions I'd been having every five minutes for the past 16 hours weren't "real labor," my husband and I decided a walk along the beach might help either put a stop to things or speed things along. During our walk, we saw a group of dolphins swim by (but no, didn't grab a photo of them):

Around 3pm on Monday, May 31 (yes, those contractions that started Friday night were, indeed, the real thing and never did let up), the doctor decided a C-section was needed since the baby's heart rate dropped with each contraction. While I had an epidural to help me cope, Craig had only his nerves:

Our little bird was finally delivered at 4:18pm on May 31, weighed six pounds and 13 ounces, and was 19 inches long.

Evelyn's grammy from Kansas flew out at the last minute to be here:

In addition to going home, getting her first bath, and meeting the dogs, Evelyn Grace got all dolled up to celebrate Father's Day with a group of new and future dads who made all over her:

For her one month birthday, Evelyn's grammy is back in town and brought Grandpa and Aunt Kimberly along. Now, Evelyn just can't wait to meet her Papa and Nana for her very first Fourth of July!

Post-Partum Worries

I'm a worry wart. When I was exhibiting all the signs of early pregnancy, I told my best friend I thought I had cysts or endometriosis or something else that would render me infertile. She told me to shut up and use one of her pregnancy tests. When that came back positive, I worried that the cold turkey sandwich I had for lunch would impart food poisoning to the unborn baby or that the head cold I had would develop into a full blown infection and I'd go into early labor. When the contractions started and labor refused to progress for days on end, I worried that contractions was a new reality of my life--that I'd just have to live with them another three weeks until my due date. Now, the baby's here, and while I'm not suffering from any of the post-partum blues people keep asking me about, I AM worrying. I am absolutely scared to death that I will wake one morning to find Evelyn Grace dead in her crib. When she naps during the day, I go in and hold my finger to her nose to make sure breath is still blowing out of her little nostrils. When she starts fussing in the night, I make Craig get up to check that she isn't suffocating on spit up. On car rides, I blast the air conditioning so she won't overheat and then I crank it off and pile her with blankets so she won't freeze.

But she's made it through two weeks of life and each day she's alive, I feel a little more at ease. Plus, her two week checkup yesterday REALLY put my mind to rest. At two weeks old, the doctor wanted her to have gained half a pound from her one week checkup. Well, my little bird did twice better--she gained a full pound exactly and didn't grow any taller! She's quite the chunk these days. Of course, she's also started spitting up after each meal and the doctor thinks (based on this incredible weight gain) that it's from getting overly full at each feeding.

So now I worry about that. When I let her go her customary 10 minutes on each side, I worry that I'm stuffing her to death and causing her to spit up (which, actually, I probably am. God knows she certainly does spit up!). When I pull her off after only five minutes on each side, I worry that I'm starving her. Then Craig points out all the dirty diapers we're changing and all the fat building up on her legs. That's when I worry that I'm creating one of those new "obese child" phenoms.

Week 1 Highlights

Yesterday at 4:18pm, we celebrated our little bird's 1 Week birthday. While it's hard to believe she's a week old already, so much has happened in that one week that it's a little surprising she's only one week old! When Craig joined me in the operating room around 4pm on May 31, I was already nauseous and trembling a little from the medications and absolutely scared to death. In hindsight, I'm not sure what I was scared of and I doubt I knew even then. Regardless, despite his best efforts to comfort me, Craig was visibly frightened too, as (I think) this photo shows.

Since that time, we've survived two earthquakes, hurtled over nursing obstacles, met the dogs, had a bath, and gone out for multiple walks around the neighborhood and an embarrassingly large number of trips to and from both Target and Babies R Us. The dogs love Evelyn, by the way. We were worried about our overly dominant, aggressively territorial miniature pinscher, but she immediately transferred all of her protective instincts toward Evelyn--chasing the other miniature pinscher away from the baby and settling herself between my feet on high alert whenever I went to nurse Evelyn.

All in all, it's been an amazing first week! Sometimes I think I don't want her to grow any more--just stay a tiny baby forever--but I can't wait to see what kind of person she'll grow up to be.