Just another beautiful morning!

I know that I'll look back and cherish these hectic mornings.  I know I will.  In fact, there are a thousand little moments each day that I scoop up carefully and lock away in my heart, knowing that while my mind may forget these teeny blessings, my heart never will.

I wake up as usual, with Chris poking and prodding me, "It's after 7. I'm late! You have to get up now!  Come on, are you awake?! Get up! I'm leaving!"   I try heroically to pry my eyes open and fight the tiny be-horned, red-dressed Bonnie on my shoulder urging me to ignore his pleadings and drift back off.  Shortly after I hear the alarm set, and his thump, thump, thump off the porch and the roar of his super-cool muffler (or lack thereof) on his truck, I am able to relax again. 

Drifting off... nice and easy... "eh."  nice and... "eeehhh."  "EEEHHH!"  Like the winding up of a firetruck siren, I hear the whine begin.  Slowly and spaced out, at first, growing in urgency and demand the longer I wait.  "Just five more minutes," I plead.  "Just play with Bunny Bear and your feet, or something.  I'll be right there," I beg the one-way monitor, who I know is not passing my message on to the increasingly impatient toddler a few rooms away.  THWACK.  There goes Bunny Bear.  My time is short now.  I jump out of bed, stumble into as few pieces of furniture as possible, and stagger into her room.  As I finally peel back the sleep mask (why didn't I think of that sooner?), I see her sweet rosy cheecks and chin resting on the rail of her crib, arms outstretched and she coos an excited greeting to me.  "Well, hello there, my Little Bit.  How's my Love Muffin this morning?"  Her arms reach up and around me, briefly, and she points excitedly toward the door - "Da-da!".  Of course.

"Honey, your Da-da has gone to work already, but what about me? I'm here... Remember Ma-Ma?"  "Da-da!" she states emphatically and squirms to be let down.  "By all means, go look.  I'll just get you a clean diaper and a change of clothes and some juice while you look for your precious DaDa.  I'll just think of all those times when I puked first thing in the morning until I laid my head back in bed at the end of the day while I was carrying and carefully nurturing you INSIDE MY BODY while you go look for dearest Dada."  P.S. - I'm not bitter that she loves him more.  I'm glad she's so head over heels for her DaDa.  It's what I've always dreamed of.  Seriously.  Not at all bitter.

As I carry the clothes and shoes and other necessities to my room, she comes scooting in on her little pink car, fearlessly flinging herself into the same doorways and furniture legs I sought to avoid mere moments before.  Grinning ear to ear, she leaps into my arms, and with only a little pleading from me, gives me one of the sweetest kisses I'll ever recieve before flopping excitedly on the bed and pointing to the TV.  I take what I can get.  And love every second.  "So what is it this morning, your majesty?  Toys? (Toy Story 2)  Baa? (Shaun the Sheep), Shrek? (Shrek 2)"   "Cars!" she demands.  "Hon, cars are only on the computer.  You can watch those with Daddy tonight"   "Daddy?" she looks around expectantly.  "No, tonight.... nevermind.  Here, let's get dressed".  Cars is her word for watching the endless YouTube clips Chris has found of antique cars being driven.  When she gets bored of that, they watch a  little "Row, Row" (your boat), and some "Itsy Bitsy" (spider), then maybe a little bluegrass before she's back to watching cars.   I honestly have no clue how he's done it, but the two of them have one another wrapped around their fingers.  It's sickening, really.

Once dressed, she watches her movie as Mommy scurries to get ready, often noshing on Cheerios or dried fruit and sipping milk. "Come on, cowgirl, time to head out.  Ready to go to school and get Bite Bites and see Ms. Lauren?!"  Nodding emphatically, she grabs Bunny Bear, jumps aboard the pink car and begins banging her way through the halls to the kitchen.  There we have to stop so I can give her medicine - the latest round of antibiotics for the latest ear infections... fun.  Thankfully, the kid loves medicine.  She's on the far side of the island when I tell her it's time for her medicine, and suddenly I see a chubby hand pop up over the edge of the counter and a pacifier flies onto the granite.  Then stomp, stomp, stomp, and a very excited young lady is standing in front of my eagerly awaiting a tube of yummy medicine.  She sucks until it's empty, then looks up expectantly - "Mo?"  "No, honey, no more until tonight... go get Bunny and let's go"

She stomps around to the other side of the island and I see the chubby hand pop back over the edge of the counter,  feeling around for the paci... I slide it closer, and she finds it.  I hear the happy slurp as it hits it's target and shortly she appears next to me, bear in hand.  She proceeds past me to the door and begins slapping it loudly ("knocking", or our version of it), as I snatch my purse and bags, set the alarm, and out we go.  Or out she goes, and stops abruptly in the doorway (just like her Grandma).  "Mauwh Mauwh?" she asks, elbows akimbo, hands bouncing in the air.  "I don't know where our kitty is this morning, baby.  Why don't you call him?" I say as I scurry past her to drop my load in the car and get her seat ready.  At this point, we're desperately late, but that doesn't concern her... "MAUWH MAUWH" she cries, looking in every direction.  I try to get back in time, but no, she's found her rocks.  Has one in each hand and is wielding them somewhat scarily near the bathroom windows.  Calling for the cat and stomping along the porch with her rocks, any attempt by me to extract her from the situation is met with a firm howl.  "Bite Bites, school, Ms. Lauren," I remind her.  She flings the rocks down and starts running toward the steps, hollering "Bite Bites" with every step... At least I know how to motivate the kid.  About that time, Mauwh Mauwh shows up, so we have to shriek at him, pet him, then laugh and shriek som more as he begins winding himself through my legs.  I have to navigate the field of land mines between letting the very independent toddler walk down the stairs and to the car herself, all while trying not to break an ankle in my heeled shoes on the gravel walk, and avoid tripping over and killing the damn cat (actually, most of the time I like the cat, but when he's between or in front of my every step and I'm already late, he's a damn cat).

Finally, everyone in the car, buckled up and we're on our way. Whew.  Hayden has her cell phone and is jabbering excitedly into the reciever.  I think it's Mema and Poppie we're talking to this morning.  Or about them.  I'm never quite sure.  She sounds an awful lot like the lady that does my nails, and as I look in the rearview mirror, I can see she's literally foaming from the speed at which she's talking.  Every once in a while, I catch a word I think I might understand.  "bawl... Mauwh... wock (rock).... Pop-pee...buhbuhls...bite, bites...oooh, oooh (her dog bark)..."  This feverishly paced conversation continues until we get to school, and she happily flings the phone aside (I think it landed in the cupholder on the other side of the car) and snatches up her bunny bear and paci and reaches for me.  Once unfastened, I remind her the paci stays in the car and she flings it into her seat and bounces happily in my arms.  It's Bite Bite Time!

I drop her off in the room, where she runs happily to an empty chair and sits, legs pumping, for Ms. Lauren to bring breakfast.  This morning it's a biscuit, chicken patty, and applesauce with milk.  She grabs the biscuit and chicken, takes a lick of the chicken before tossing it back on her plate and tearing into the biscuit.  I get her attention and blow her a kiss bye-bye, and wait long enough for her to blow me one back "Mwah!".

And, I'm off to work... finally.  Late, but I wouldn't trade a minute of the morning I've just had.  And not that late...At least we had no melt-downs, explosions or other heart-breaks this morning.  I'm sure she's saving that for tomorrow.  I can't wait.

Some miscellaneous thoughts from this morning

1. This is my 200th blog post.  I feel like it should be something profound, but honestly, I lack the energy.   Whoot!   There you go.  A wee bit o' celebration to kick it off.
2. I'm out of deodorant.  I started to look for an extra, and then I remembered I only buy extras for Chris.  I swear the man eats the stuff.  I have to buy 2-3 at a time.  Almost every other shopping trip.   I have this nagging little fear that one day, wandering around in the depths of our basement, I'm going to unearth his true life's work - a full-sized, shower-fresh sculpture of Henry Ford.  Or something equally disturbing.  One thing I have to give him credit for - if you EVER, EVER smell something the least bit unpleasant in his vicinity, I can GUARANTEE you that it's not him.  Sometimes he puts more on before he comes to bed at night.  I think he does that just for the repellant effect, though.  I can't stand to cuddle with an armpit full of chemically concocted "Morning Fresh" man. Ugh.  It's his way of making sure he's got plenty of room to sleep on his side of the bed without getting crowded out, is my theory.  Anyway, my point of this story was that I need to get some deodorant next time I got to the store.
3. There's no spell check on this new blog editor.  Unless they have sneakily inserted it where only those smart enough (surely) to spell their words correctly would be able to locate it.  Therefore, I can accept no responsibility for misspelled words at this time.  I love you all, but not enough to get out my dictionary and double-check.  You will all have discovered that I am not the perfect speller you have come to know and love, and I will be forever ruined.  Or not.  Moving on...
4. While, at our house, we love and respect the "Baby Einstein" videos for their toddler-entrancing powers, I do have a beef with the new one we got  - "Baby's First Moves".  I usually put these videos on while Hayden is eating her breakfast and I'm scrambling to get ready - this cuts my interruptions down to only about 20 a minute, and I make a little progress here and there between the need for me to hold her newfound treasures - a sock, my shoe, my other shoe, that teeny piece of dirt that was on the floor, bunny bear, a coat hanger, a dirty diaper, a clean diaper, a soggy cheerio she just coughed up, another soggy cheerio, a dirty tissue, the hairbow I just put in her hair, the other hairbow I just put in her hair, her paci, a book (a book I need to read RIGHT NOW), and so on and so forth.  So this new video is great, and gets her moving along with the video - "where's your nose? Touch your nose!", "clap!", "roll over!", "peek-a-boo!","sit up!", "jump!", "KICK!".... Kick?!?!  What the?  What the crap do you expect my child to kick?  While watching a video?  In the house?  In a room with lots of breakable items?  Why? Why? Why would you... why?   Just why?  I could go along with all the other activities - no props required, no real worries of damage or destruction, to the child or their surroundings, and here you freaking Disney nuts go and insert "Kick!" in your little video, showing this exhuberant (see, thanks to Blogger, I have no idea if I spelled that word right! Point proven!) young boy kicking a huge bouncy ball in an EMPTY studio set.  After you've just convinced my child to clap and roll and sit and jump along with you, you tell her to KICK something.  FYI, Disney.   We weren't prepared.  We didn't have a BALL ready.  We weren't adequately prepped for this part of the video.  So you know what my wonderful 16 month old (brilliant kid by the way) decided to do? Improvise!  Lovely! I am so proud that she put two and two together and figured since she couldn't kick  a ball she'd have to find something else.  I just wish it hadn't been her toy keyboard.  Or anything, for that matter.  We already struggle with the 'dropping/throwing things for fun' game, and now, with your encouragement, we've learned a new variation - the kicking the crap out of things for fun game. :) Joy.
5. Do I need a 5th thought this morning?  I feel as if I've been sufficiently witty, sarcastic and bitter to get me through the whole day.  Maybe I can end on a sweeter note.  Actually, I do have a good thought to end on.  When Hayden and I got to school, I got her out of her seat and was preparing to set her down to walk her in (she walks into school now! On her own two little legs! It kills me a little everytime.  Too FAST, she's growing up too fast!), she decided it was a good moment for a hug.  So she leaned in and wrapped her tiny arms around my shoulders, rested her head on my chest, just right where I could bury my face in her sweet hair and take in her perfect smell. She was in no hurry to dash off my lap and run in, so I just sat, as long as she was willing, and held her close and soaked in the precious moment.  I try to do that - take the time, when she decides it's time - to hold her close and love her and enjoy her, because I know that all too soon, those moments will become fewer and farther between and I'll wish for them in earnest.  So there we sat in the parking lot, hugging one another and resting our heads together, enjoying that tender moment.   And then, before I knew it, we were off again!

God made dirt...

...and dirt don't hurt!

At least that's Hayden's stance on the matter. Still enjoying the new-found benefits of warmer weather and the additional evening daylight, Hayden helped me weed for a bit in the flower beds this evening.  Or rather, she helped me rearrange the pinestraw and pluck leaves off of my plants as I dug up the errant briars and clumps of grass (why is it, by the way, that I can't for the life of me get grass to grow in my yard, but it comes up effortlessly and aplenty in my mulch beds?  Just makes me want to put mulch on the yard and grass in the beds...).

I spent several minutes working my way down the front of the house as Hayden played quietly at the corner of the porch, tossing clumps of pinestraw in the air, onto herself, and generally in every which way.  I heard her stir, and looked back to check on her. 

She came toddling over my way, a rock in each hand, grinning from ear to ear. That is when I noticed she had made it down below the pinestraw in at least an area or two, judging from her Georgia clay-stained lips...

This is why I love having a child.  I love seeing the world through her eyes, and giving myself permission to let go of some of the pre-conceptions (is that a word?  I dunno... it's late) I have of myself and the world around me.  Seeing her like this makes me want to go play in the dirt too, although I have to admit, I'll probably pass on the mud pie for dessert.

Morning Routine

Hayden and I have settled into a regular morning routine that is much more conducive to me getting ready and getting us both where we need to be on time (most days).  For starters, she wakes me up around 6 or 6:30, and since she's in her room, I don't get to pick her up and roll back over with her... I have to get up and stumble to her room and bring her back to our room, and by that time, she is AWAKE.  And wants FOOD.  And her MOVIE.  Now, ye sorry chamber maid, get the to it!

In order to have a few moments without her in arms, and without wailing, so I can get the essentials done (bathroom, shower, hair, clothes), I created a little cubby in the corner of our room out of pillows one day, and sprinkled some assorted shriveled fruit corpses (raisens, dried cranberries and pineapples) on a plate and set her Baby Einstein on play, and let her be.   She quickly adapted to her new routine  (before I even realized that's what we'd created), and now backs into her little corner, Bunny Bear in arms, points to the TV and hands me her empty plate. 

That's not to say she doesn't ever get bored while I'm getting ready, and say, come bang on the shower glass, smearing her sticky face and fingers along the outside of the enclosure.  And of course, she never picks the moment I have soap in my eyes to do this, leaving me frantically trying to hold the door in place so she doesn't come tumbling in with me.  She has also never gone into the closet and come out toting my underwear from the day before, and rubbing her snotty nose with it.  Not my kid.

All in all, though, our little routine works out well for both of us, and I think she's the cutest little thing ever curled up in the corner watching her show.  It reminds me of the Saturday mornings that Grace and I would grab all our blankets and pillows and stuffies and plod down to the den (the pillows and blankets would get catapulted off the balcony, or rolled down the stairs.  Much more efficient than carrying it all) to watch our cartoons. 

Good Nights!

I'm going to let you in on a little secret of mine.  It's "Goodnight."  Just that one, simple word has made a world of difference in our bedtime and middle-of-the-night routines.  It's actually not even my secret, since I'm revealing things at the moment.  I got it from "The Baby Book" by Dr. and Martha Sears.

I have to be really honest.  When Hayden was on the "up-every-hour-on-the-hour-plus" routine, I was going crazy.  Chris and I were reading everything we could get our hands on about sleeping and not sleeping and babies and oh-my-gosh-how-do-you-turn-her-off-for-a-couple-hours, FOR THE LOVE!   When I came across this little gem in the Baby Book, I thought it was utter madness.  Still think it is, some days, but oh my stars it works.  EVERY time.  EVERY, EVERY time.  It must be baby speak for "if you want to live to see tomorrow, zip the lips and close the lids.  Pronto!"  Seriously don't get how it works, but I want to share it with you now, for those going through the sleep drama, that it might bring just a bit of peace to your lives.

The technique calls for you to, in preparation for bedtime, go around each room in the house, and begin to say "goodnight" to everything, quietly, with the baby in your arms.  So, we'd start in the kitchen - "Goodnight, fridge, goodnight", "Goodnight, stove, goodnight", "Goodnight, counters, goodnight", and continue through the room, naming each thing and touching it gently as I softly bid it goodnight.  Then we'd move to the dining room, "Goodnight, table, goodnight", "Goodnight, chairs, goodnight".  And then the living room, and finally into the bedroom.  We'd make the rounds, whispering goodnight to each stuffed animal, piece of furniture and toy, and then I would tell Hayden, "Goodnight, Mama, goodnight.  Goodnight, Daddy, goodnight", and finally, as I lay her down in her crib, "Goodnight, Hayden, goodnight".  I would repeat that very quietly as I would cover her with her blanket, tuck in Bunny Bear, and made sure she was settled.

If she began to fuss again, I'd begin "goodnighting" her, and if she really overly upset, we'd start the whole circuit over again, but I always tried to keep her in her room if we made it that far.  She'd eventually settle right down, flip over on her side, clutching Bunny Bear and begin closing her eyes.

In the middle of the night, when nothing would soothe her, a five minute "goodnight" session through the house would have the crying stopped in no time, and usually have her sacked on my shoulder before we made it back to her room.

Even today, if she's not feeling well, or not eager to go to bed, just a few "goodnights" re-programs her and she's back to my cuddly, sleepy baby.

I don't know if it's the repetition, or the gentle tone of my voice, despite her sometimes feverish cries, or the distractions of touching so many different objects, but this magic trick has presto-chango-ed my baby girl every single time.

If you're losing sleep with a wee one, take a night and a wild hair and try it- you might be surprised!  Also, let me know if it works for you.  I'm dying to know if we're the only ones who this helped (surely we couldn't be, or they wouldn't have put it in a book, and besides, these people have like 8 kids... they must have the hang of it by now, don't you think?).

Sweet dreams!

Motherhood Rule #237

I'll go ahead and warn you all - this is what some might call a "TMI" post, but as a new mother, I find that my boundries of what I will and won't share thse days are surprisingly broad.  For those also in my shoes, I'm sure you can relate.  For those who aren't, but have been, I'm sure you'll remember these days fondly.  For those who haven't been there yet, sorry, but this is how things go. Brace yourself.  For those who won't ever be in this position, or who are grossed out anyway... might want to skip this one.  Fair warning.

Motherhood Rule #237

Your suddenly "too-busy-for-cuddling-I-can-walk-and-need-to-go-explore" 14 month old will determine that the only time s/he wants to be cuddled, nay - MUST be cuddled - is the 2 minutes you need to go to the bathroom.  S/he will toddle in, stuffed animal, books and toys in hand and demand to be placed in your lap immediately or face the wrath of Unhappy Child, S/He Who Refuses To Be Soothed, and will force you to listen to wailing the likes of the pitiful demons of hell until you acquiese and set Her Majesty squarely on your lap (the same one you're using to do... er, other things).

That's good for me, though, you know, because  I can't think of a time when I want more to cuddle and snuggle closely with someone than that particular time. I just love having a small body squirm on my legs and play with my shirt...then. Ah, the joys of having a child!

After our "quality time" this morning, I had to peel Hayden off of me and try to convince her between screams that I was actually done and going to stand up myself.  Once we passed that hurdle, her new fascination became the toilet and what was in it (lovely).  I cautioned her though, to step back, telling her she had to be CAREFUL there and that we don't play there.  She immediately backed up a good step or two and peered at the bowl from a distance, clutching her Bunny Bear tightly.  As I stepped forward grasp the handle and end this freak show, she quickly grabbed my pants leg and whining, pulled me away.  I realized that she had grasped my warning well - she didn't want me to get to close to this dangerous object either... I carefully reached my arm over and flipped the handle, and then we left the bathroom, her off to another adventure, me off to warn other mothers of this odd toddler rule. 

Hair Days

Not sure if they're bad hair days or good ones, but Hayden and I have settled into (somewhat of) a morning routine these days, the last step of which involves me fixing her hair. The easiest way to do this, given her size and my need for a mirror, is to set her on the edge of my sink while I work. The girl is FASCINATED by her own reflection - she thinks she is something else, let me tell you! and she often gives herself a standing ovation once we're done.

She typically starts the morning looking something like this:

(well, we both usually do)

Or, like this:

Which she thinks is riotously funny, by the way.

Add a little water, a brush, some hair ties, a LOT of squirming, a random 'toy' or two:

('Toy' by the way, is anything that qualifies as something I don't think she can open, spill, damage, hurt herself with, or eat. Well, eat all of. That is her daddy's lint roller. Earned me about 30 seconds to get the bow in that day. May not stick to squat now that it's been covered in massive amounts of drool and baby snot, but totally worth it, if you ask me.)

And after about 10 minutes (5 on a good day) of baby wrangling, laughing, splashing (when she's so kind to turn the faucet on for me while she's IN the sink), twisting, turning, sometimes crying, fun... she gets to enjoy the fruits of our labors...

...and continue to enjoy her 'toys'. This one is the ziploc full of teeny tiny hair ties that don't even come close to fitting around my ginormous fingers, which take me all of about a minute to suspend between the tippy-tippy-tips so I can try to snatch a wad of her hair long enough to make a couple passes and secure it before she dodges me again.

It's not always an easy process, and not always fun for either of us, but I can't tell you how grateful I am to get to be this little beauty's mom, and dress her and fix her hair and hold her and love her and hug and kiss her everyday.    It's these little moments, these little routines we have and things we do together, that make life so special and wonderful with her.  I wouldn't trade a minute of it or wish it away for the world.  I am looking forward to many more hair days, both good and bad, with my sweet little Haydie Pie.

A Little Harried

After being up approximately every 15 minutes last night (yes, you heard me right) between the hours of 11:30 and 6:00 tending to a very snotty, extremely clogged up little baby who was not thrilled with being so, I am a wee bit worn down, you might say. Adding to my exhaustion was the horrendous "thud!" and ear-piercing scream that woke me up at 5:15 this morning, only minutes after having dozed off (again). Chris and I jumped up (or at least I did. I know he had one eye open... I think. Hard to remember), and I flipped the light on to check the crib, from whence the sound came, only to find a soundly snoozing Hayden. Poor thing. She must've been having a bad dream, we reasoned, and rolled around in bed enough to make the crashing sound we heard. Fast forward 5 minutes, to about the time I slipped from consciousness, and an urgent crying jolted me up yet again. Light on, look in the crib, and she's... out like a light (no pun intended). I comforted her with thoughts of Bunny Bears and Paci's, and assured her Mommy and Daddy were nearby, so please, please GO TO SLEEP FOR THE LOVE! and gently tucked her wee little body back in, smoothed back her hair, and crawled defeatedly back into bed.

Apparently my soothing worked wonders because she didn't stir again, and neither did I. Through my alarms and Chris's I slept, and awoke with a start at 7:30, with barely enough time to splash some water on the important parts , brush my teeth and hair and get Hayden ready to go.

As we dashed out of the bathroom, I noticed the very firm imprint of my pillow across my cheek, giving me only the time to hope it would fade before I arrived at work (it didn't).

In the kitchen, I got Hayden fastened in her seat and got her morning reflux medicine and syringed it up the dropper, ready to dispense it when I noticed it had turned a rather unseemly brown color (it's usually a very pale yellow). Perplexed, I took a quick look at the bottle as I got ready to give it to her, and noticed just in time that I had prepared a cc of Vanilla Flavoring to dose her with. That's, good, Bon. Send her to preschool with alcohol on her breath. That won't raise any questions. Of course, my only thought was that I was glad I hadn't switched it with something worse. Like the triple antibiotic ointment and the orajel (never happened).

Some mornings are a little crazier than others. This is why we have kids. To keep life interesting. Keep us on our toes. Keep us sleep deprived to the point of incapacitation.

Good times... good times....

Hunger Pains

You know in the cartoons, when they were in the dead of winter and two characters were starving to death, one would eventually start to picture the other one as a gigantic, talking roast turkey leg, or a steaming pork chop?

Well, last night as I was changing into my pajamas, Chris walked in the closet with Hayden, and I swear they were both giving me the same exact look. I think Hayden was even drooling a little, but that kind of comes with the territory when you're her age.

It was a little disconcerting, to say the least.

Head, Shoulders ...

If you can finish that sentance, you probably have a young child at home. Or you were once a young child. Or you, as an adult, have a strange obsession with children's songs for no apparent reason.

Myself, I have a year old daughter who delights in her many toys that sing/play/dance to this little ditty. Therefore, for the last, oh I don't know... 2 or 3 WEEKS I have had this song on a continuous loop in my head.

As I'm in the shower, "Head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes! Head, ..."
Getting Hayden dressed for school, "...shoulders, knees and toes, knees and..."
Driving to work, "...toes! Eyes and ears and...."
Sitting in meetings, "....mouth and nose! Head, shoulders, knees..."
Writing this post, "...and toes! (from the top now) Head, shoulders,..."
Going to bed, "...knees and toes! Head, shoulders, knees and toes! Eyes and ears and..."

For the love of all that's holy! I think I am slowly going crazy here! Hey, that's something different...

"I am slowly going crazy, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, SWITCH! 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 crazy going slowly am I! I am slowly going crazy, 1, 2, 3..."

AAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH!

Thankfully, I only have a good 6 or 7 more years or so of this to look forward to until we hit the obsessions with the chipmunk-voiced prepubescent boy bands. Oh, joy!

Abracadabra!

I feel as if I have just discovered the secret to a show-stopping magic trick. I just laid Hayden in her crib, and she instantly curled up with her bear and rolled over, resting quietly for several minutes as she got ready to go to sleep. No sobs, no tears, no screaming and flailing for Mommie. Just some final adjustments and wiggles as she settled herself down to sleep. It's amazing. After a year of helping me to intimately understand just how little sleep one really does NEED to survive on, Hayden feels that I have sufficiently learned that lesson and is ready to move on to another.

It's not that Hayden wasn't a great sleeper, or fought bedtime every night. It's just been this hodge podge of issues - allergies, anxieties (hers and mine), illnesses (hers and mine), schedule changes and challenges, trips and troubles, you name it. It's kept us from getting a full night's sleep in over a year. The nights she has slept, I haven't. The nights I've desperately, oh so desperately! wanted to sleep, she hasn't. This continual tug of war that I was sure was going to leave me face first in the mud before all was said and done has suddenly slacked, and I see my opponent has succumbed to the sweet slumber I myself so long for.

Inexplicably, she has begun going to bed on her own much easier. I began a few weeks ago, prepping her about an hour before bedtime that it was coming. I'd tell her what all we were going to do - diaper, pjs, stories, tooth brushing, nursing, and video, or some combination of those, and then we were going to sleep. Once we were done, I'd lay her down in her crib, and lay in my bed nearby. She would stand up and scream and reach for me. I would quietly comfort her and tell her it was bed time, and in all but her most extreme cases, she would soon flop back down, curl up with Bunny Bear, and began tossing and turning as she wore herself down.

Last night, my first night back in town, she cried for less than a minute and then spent 20 minutes going to sleep afterwards. Tonight, when I laid her down, even though both her daddy and I were still in the room and talking, and he kept coming in and out for several minutes after (thanks, Chris), she laid right down and began nodding off. No ifs, ands, or buts. I'm still in shock. AND! And, she sleeps almost nearly through the night, if not all the way through! That's as much, if not more, of a miracle than the going to sleep. Her big issue has been staying asleep these last 13 months, not getting to sleep. Now, she is sleeping like an old pro! This, despite all the turmoil and upheaval of the last few weeks.

Now, for my next trick, I will make vegetables irresistible to her! You'll want to hang around for this one, folks! It's sure to be a doozy!

"Little Miss Perfect"

Spending the last two days rotting in a hotel room fighting a viscious stomach flu has reaffirmed my decision to forgo spending a small fortune on television. There is so little worthwhile to watch, but sitting in this cramped room staring at the walls with only the sound of my piteous moaning was not a fun option.

One show that I came across totally and absolutely freaked me out. Called "Little Miss Perfect", it documents self-described beauty queens and their journey to win the crown, or at least their attempt. These beauty queens aren't teens or young adults, though, they're barely walking and talking toddlers and young girls. I'm not trying to start a war on this subject; I know there are people firmly rooted on both sides. That said, holy crap that show freaked me out!

I think my daughter is Little Miss Perfect, but I hope to all that's holy I never feel the need to give her a spray tan, false teeth, hooker-worthy makeup, and dragster-quality wigs, and combine that with a mini-Britney style outfit and let her 'shake her thing' in front of a crowd of adults and let them judge her against a lineup of her similarly freaked-out peers in order to prove that to me or to her. There was no part of that show or those families that didn't disturb me, especially the mom that kept explaining that her daughter just "wasn't competitive enough", and was "apparently okay with being average" since she wasn't dedicated to her rehearsals. I just cringed watching those little babies cry when they didn't want their hair teased, or their ribs squeezed by their dresses, or when they find out that they're not "Little Miss Perfect." I cringed even more watching the more pageant-saavy ones throw winks to the judges and performing dance moves that should come with parental warnings for a man touted as a "premier" pageant judge, who skeeves me out just watching him stare at these innocent dears. The gay director, who loved the sound of his own voice enough to write a song that he feels the need to sing at each and every pageant, was the piece de resistance. Watching him tell the girls to "own it" was more than I could bear.

I admit it. It is absolutely beyond me why any parent would do that to their child, except those that are trying to live vicariously through their genetically gifted offspring. I hear them say that the pageants give their girls "confidence", but I see a troup of girls learning to present themselves for judgement based on how they look, how they dress and how they stack up next to their friends. One parent explained that it's a fact that "better looking, more attractive people do better in life, make more money and go farther than those who aren't". Tell me this thing isn't a beauty contest, flat out.

I hope to God that my sweet, happy, stunningly beautiful, amazingly intelligent little girl never feels the need to compare herself to anyone else to know that, in my eyes,in her daddy's eyes, in God's eyes, and anyone else who matters, she will always be perfect.

For now, I'm going to go back to bed and writhe awhile and see if there is anything else nearly as pointless on the tube.

Dinner Date

Last night, Hayden and I sat on the floor of the kitchen, sharing a banana, some leftover birthday cake and cheerios for dinner. Still in my work clothes, I stretched out in the corner, listening to the radio serenade us with Christmas carols, surveyed the crumbs and dirt that yet again taken over my hardwood floor, watched Hayden boogey and clap between bites, and sighed. We shared messy kisses that left my face sticky with icing and banana, her small fingers smearing rainbow traces of cake down my sweater as she bounced into my lap, and also as she pushed up and away from me, tottering a few steps here or there before returning to our spot. Walking. My baby girl had, overnight, begun walking, and it still surprised me to watch her, hands up by her face (ready to brace for the inevitable tumble), legs akimbo, one jaunty step at a time. My baby girl. Walking. One year old. One. Year. Old. I looked again at the floors. Dirt everywhere, it seemed. Didn't we just vacuum? I surveyed the countertops from my corner vantage point. What I saw was covered in mail, dishes, bottles, and other ephemera. I looked back to Hayden, now happily scooting toward me on her hands and knees, her prize - a Santa doll from her grandparents - clutched in one hand. Too soon, this sweet crawl will be replaced by running and skipping, jumping and tumbling. As she approached, I reached out and wrapped her in my arms, sticky fingers and all, and cuddled her. The house can wait. I had a dinner date just then that couldn't.


Thank God for her. Thank God she slows me down for moments like these.

December 11, 2008

One year ago today, Hayden's due date, I woke up at 2:30 in the morning with the first contraction that got my attention.

That morning, I freaked my boss out by timing contractions during a meeting. Totally ruined his concentration.

I had lunch at Captain D's with my friend Tonya; we had fried pickles as I timed contractions. Later Chris would ask me what the heck those neon green things were... (gross, yes, I know, but one of my lasting memories from that night). It was the last time I had pickles for awhile.

That afternoon, I realized this thing was for real and began cleaning up my desk and packing my stuff. As I trudged out about an hour early, I heard a booming voice from the conference room ordering me back to my cube - they wanted to squeeze every last hour out of me! It was the president, joking he thought, about me sneaking off early. I told him I'd be happy to go back to my desk if he didn't mind helping me with a little project I was working on... I quickly got the green light to head on home!

That evening, packing my stuff between contractions, and using hypnosis during each one, as they became increasingly longer and stronger, I watched my husband turn whiter and whiter as the clock ticked on. He dutifully recorded the time and length of each contraction, lay in bed next to me, sweating as we waited through contractions. I stayed home as long as I dared; I was seriously worried my driver would faint if I waited any longer, and off we headed on the wildest ride I've ever taken (due to my circumstances, not his driving) to go have our baby girl.

I scared the hell out of some security desk clerks with a scene nearly out of a movie - me waddling in demanding them to take me where "I go to have this taken care of" and begging the other one to figure out where my husband needed to park (they of course totally tore up the entrance to the Women's center the week before. SIGNS, people. HUGE, CLEAR SIGNS. You're dealing with people in LABOR. We're not rational at this point. "BABIES - THIS WAY" would be fine. Just something).

I further freaked out the security guard by refusing a wheelchair, and threatening some very bad things if he tried to put me in one, then making him pause with each contraction as I doubled over and went into hypnosis. Scared the hell out of some moms and dads to be as well, I think. Ahhh, good times.

We checked into a room just before midnight, and then the fun really began.

As I look back today, it is impossible for my mind to grasp that it has already been a year. As Chris said last night, at first, after we had her, time stood still. The whole earth halted on its axis for three months, at least, then catapulted us into warp speed, and we haven't slowed down since.

Happy Birthday Eve, my wee miracle. Thank you for forever changing me.

Weekend Vignettes

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Saturday, approx. 5pm, my bathroom

I'm rushing around frantically trying to get dressed, put makeup on (!), and fix my hair. Hayden, meantime, has chosen this of all times for a meltdown. The vast assortment of toys, both parent-approved and Hayden-selected (my hairbrush, deodorant, and a bracelet) is doing nothing to settle her down. In a last ditch effort, I grab a box of tampons from under the counter. Seconds later, a cascade of them shower my bathroom floor. Then, wait... What is that sound?! Silence!!! Playing 52-tampon pickup is a small price to pay for 5 uniterrupted minutes for getting ready when you're already desperately late. Thanks, Playtex.

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Later that evening, at the work Christmas party, just after we've eaten dinner

One of the execs my hubby and I are chatting with subtly and quietly mentions, "Bon, you've got a litte bird in your grill there, I thought I'd let you know." Chris, hearing this, chimes in, "Oh yeah! I meant to say something about that!" Crap, I thought, perfect time to get chicken stuck in my teeth! I turn away and start trying to dislodge the offending fowl and upon realizing what I'm doing, my coworker clarifies, "Oh, no, Bon. I meant you have a bird that got stuck in the grill of your car!" It's then that I remember the small feathered creature that dove in front of our car on the way to the party. I'm not sure what's worse - walking around a party with food stuck in your teeth, or showing up to such an elegant event with a dirty car (full of baby gear, might I add, and who knows what else) adorned with a dead bird. And parking up front by the door. Lovely.

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Sunday Morning, around 8:30am

Chris awakes to hear a small voice calling. For him. "Da.... Da! Dahh Dahhh! Da da da da dah dah da!" Hayden, who has been saying "Da-da" for a week or so now on the rare occasion, wanted to make sure he knew who she was looking at! She wanted her Da-da to come get her out of bed. Despite wanting to roll over and go back to sleep, he got up and got his little buddy.

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Later that afternoon

We sold the oven! YAY! Going, going, GONE! Finite! No More. Done! Then we decided to 'celebrate' by getting the remaining few items out of our storage building and finishing our move. If I haven't mentioned before, Chris and I don't move stuff well together. That's why we built the house, in fact. So we will never have to move again. Our marriage is pretty strong, but another buffet that weighs as much as the one in our living room, and we might not make it. For as similar as we are in values, goals, tastes, etc, that is one area that we are WAY different. If I see that it makes sense to pick something up, turn it on it's side and carry it in the house, Chris sees that we should flip it over, pick it up, start moving it while one of us only has one hand on it, and see if we can't mash the other hand a few times before we set it down. See? We just look at stuff differently. It's not that one of us is right (me) and the other is wrong (him), it's just that we have our own approaches (me, careful planning and assessment. Him, run headlong at it with our eyes closed) to things like this. And that's okay, so long as we don't have to work together much. Happily, we seem to have worked out a little system that helps us both get through these situations without too many hurt feelings or fingers. It involves a good amount of name calling, cursing, obscene gesturing, and a few hugs and kisses (and hair-pulling and arm-pinching). Hey, it works for us. :)

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Later that night

Hayden is sitting on her Grandma's lap, and they are looking through the weekly circulars from the local drugstore that have become Hayden's favorite 'books.' Grandma points out the different pictures to Hayden, "See the little boy on the swing? He's having fun!" "See the little cat, it's giving that doggie a kiss, isn't it?" As she read that last one, Hayden looked up at her and becan blowing kisses. It still amazes me that at less than a year old her comprehension is so well-honed that she understood what Grandma was saying to her! Genius baby, I tell ya!

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Counting down...

My thoughts have been swirling all week about the fact that my daughter, my baby, is about to turn a year old. I almost can't bear the thought! I find myself clutching her to me, especially during those middle of the night wakings, cuddling her against my chest, burying my nose in the sweet scent of her hair and warm baby neck. Willing the clock to slow down, for just a moment or two, and let me capture the memory of her wee hands clutching to my shoulders as she slumps, trusting, into me. Oh, what I wouldn't give to have this last forever! It breaks my heart, it really does, to have to face the fact that she is -literally - stepping away from babyhood and moving into her childhood. How do I bear this???

I continue to console myself with the excitement and joy I find at each new milestone and accomplishment she reaches, knowing that each stage she leaves behind promises something new and equally endearing for me to love about her next phase.

For now, I want to take a few moments to reflect on my little baby. My Hayden, and who she is today, on the eve of her first birthday.

Hayden:

Hayden loves books - books, magazines, newspapers, loose papers, anything with writing and pictures, and she studies all the details. She has her favorite pages in "Mother Goose" - Baa, Baa Black Sheep, and The Crooked Little Man. She loves to sit in her Grandma's lap and let her read to her, or to sit in Papa's lap as he points out the eyes, ears, nose, and mouth on the babies in her picture books.

Hayden loves my phone. Her daddy's phone. Any phone. Remote controls, the mouse for the computer... anything electronic. She turns them over and studies every detail, looking at the screws and screens, and delighting in pushing the buttons.

She loves "Tickle Bee", giving "5", blowing kisses, giving us kisses (usually open-mouthed slobber-kisses, followed by the hysterical cackles of an amused babe), clapping, and listening to music of any kind.

Hayden enjoys eating dried fruits, Cheerios, puffs, and baby Goldfish crackers. She likes french fries, and bits of chicken. Bananas, and pears are an occasional treat, and she loves drinking from a straw. Don't try to give her a sippy cup, though - she has no patience for those. She wants whatever Mommy's drinking, and makes the cutest little "aaahhhhh!" whenever she takes a sip.

Hayden is learning to walk, and continues to surprise me when I see her toddle by. She is losing the "crab-crawl" and starting to crawl more like most babies. She loves for you to chase her, or to chase you, around the house, and you can hear her squeal if you get close to catching her.

She wears her hair in ponytails most days, and is very patient when her mommy styles it. She's grown to enjoy bathtime, and splashes away in the tub with all her toys. She has fun with puppy dogs, and likes to let them lick her hands. and tries to grab their noses.

She is an even-keeled, laid-back little girl, full of life and smiles and energy, who loves to study the details of the world around her, understands almost anything you tell her, and loves her family, friends and teachers so much.

She's the apple of my eye, my heart outside my heart, my true love, and I am just so grateful to be her mom.

At least we have our priorities in order

Just now, in our living room (which is still in disarray from the party last night. Big time, by the way - thanks everyone, for coming!)

Me: Can you see Hayden? What is she doing back there?

Chris: Yeah, I see her. She's sitting behind your chair eating cracker crumbs off the floor.

Me: !!!

Chris: Well, at least she's not screaming.

Me: Good point.

Thankful

I just went and had my first "mommy-daughter" lunch at Hayden's school. They hosted a thanksgiving feast for the parents at her daycare, and my friend Barbara and I went to eat with our babies. It was such a wonderful delight and a great way to break up the stress of a back-to-work Monday.

We had turkey and gravy, rolls and green beans, potatoes and cranberry sauce (well, we didn't have cranberry sauce, but we saw others who did. They seemed to like it! Good for them!). And of course the desserts - there was a whole table of different cakes and pies that looked too yummy for words!

The best part was getting to squeeze my baby girl for an extra few minutes, feed her bits of a blueberry bar that her Mema got her hooked on while we were in Vegas (I tried to encourage her to eat some dinner with me, but she was having none of it - even the cake!). I got to hang out with Barbara and Ian, and we even got to see Hayden show off her new moves as she took a few steps to one of her teachers!

I am thankful that we have a place that cares so much about our baby girl. I am thankful for the owners, who truly put their hearts into this business. Thankful there are teachers who feel called to care for children and who do such an amazing job looking after and loving our little ones. Thankful that I have my little one to love and hold this year. Thankful for a wonderful family, the roof over our heads, and so many other blessings in my life. This afternoon, my belly is full of turkey and my heart is full of gratitude.

Now she's crossed the line

...from baby to toddler.

My wee baby girl decided to celebrate her 11 month birthday yesterday by taking her first steps.

My heart is cheering and breaking at the same time.

I had gotten her some new shoes that she wore for the first time yesterday, her Squeaker Sneakers, that I thought might encourage her to try out her mad skillz and take a step. Well, they did, and she did. I was walking with her around my in-laws den, and we headed over to where her daddy was standing, tinkering with the piano. With three paces left before we reached him, she turned loose and headed over their without me. Although her daddy didn't see those first steps because he was turned around and none of us expected that, her grandma and papa were delighted to watch her. Don't feel too bad for Chris, though. Right after that, she gave us an encore performance... and another... and another, and continued walking between Chris and I - 3 or 4 steps at a time - for another 10 minutes or so.

We were whooping and shouting, cheering and clapping. Hayden knew she'd done something big, and was giggling and grinning ear to ear. She was happily giving us "high fives" between shows and clapping for herself.

It was such an amazing moment. Of all the milestones she's reached so far, this one hit me the hardest, I think. I saw that we are truly at a turning point in her life, and all too soon her sweet, awkward crab-walking crawl will be a thing of the past, dismissed for running and jumping and skipping along.

Being a mother is such a wonderful, amazing, bittersweet journey of moving forward and letting go, and when you're lucky, toddling back for just one more hug and kiss before she leaves.

Way to go, baby girl! We're so proud of you, today and always!

No news is Good News

As I was getting ready for work this morning, I scrolled through the morning's top stories online just long enough to be sickened to my stomach. Another shooting rampage, this one on a military base, targeting those who volunteer to protect us. Another parent shot by their child in anger (shudder). Another execution on the horizon. More car wrecks, illnesses, dangers. I read long enough to remember why I don't read the news. It's hard to balance staying current with world issues to be informed, but avoiding enough of the horrid abominations humans inflict upon one another to keep you from sinking into an quagmire of depression.

What a sick, sad state things are in.

Whenever I feel this way, I think of my family. My wonderful friends. And most of all, my little church, and the God I know abides with each of us. I know that he can raise us up, keep us safe, and offer us a promise of a new day beyond this existance. One free from pain and heartache, devoid of shootings and wars. I lean on him, and amidst this turmoil, he renews my faith and hope.

Speaking of renewal, faith and hope, I did in fact get some WONDERFUL news this morning. My friends Jodi and Marius welcomed their sweet new baby girl into the world this weekend! Little Emi Addison joined us on October 31, 2009!

Me, Jodi and Hayden this summer.

They are missionaries living in Swaziland, and they had her in South Africa. Please keep your thoughts and prayers with them as they adjust to this new time in their lives, and pray that Jodi's parents arrive safely for their first visit with their new granddaughter.

I can't wait to meet little Emi! She's just such a doll baby, and has nearly as much hair as Hayden did when she was born. I'll share pics soon!

Have a happy Friday and a great weekend, all!