The Pumpkin Patch!

Well, we went to the pumpkin patch today. Amara is 9 months old now, and I have been looking forward to our annual trek to the pumpkin patch for a year now. Last year I was so excited about having a child of our own to take this year.

So, we went and Amara Mae experienced pumpkins for the first time. She saw chickens and geese and goats and cows. And there were so many people there! Everyone has been cooped up at home this cold blustery October but today was a beautiful sunshiny day, albeit gusty. So the Farm was more crowded than I had ever seen it.

And next year, we will do a hayride and pony ride, probably even picking apples. That is the wonderful thing about this parenting business - you get to have fun in the present and look forward to the adventures that will be waiting in the future. But as for today, it was everything I imagined it would be.

So, I have not written in quite a while! Not sure what to blame this on, let's just say I've been busy.

Amara is eight months old today. Some new advancements are that she says mama and dada now (and not necessarily in that order). She waves goodbye. She does the army crawl and stands/walks with help. She's doing the whole finger food thing now, which terrifies me to pieces! She goes from floor to sitting on her own. She does the butt scoot while sitting. And she is becoming increasingly more amused by the pets every single day, which was her entire motivation for figuring out the army crawl. My days of sitting on the couch are slowly whittling away as my baby is becoming Mobile Baby.

Today we went to church. I have entered a new chapter of my life and we go to church now. We are not "churchy" by any means. I go because I believe in God and my spirit needs it, needs to be cozied up right next to him, and in his presence once in a while. It just FEELS good, and I'd like my daughter to be brought up very familiar with this. We went a couple weeks ago and I held Amara the entire service, not quite willing to let her go. But for some reason, today was a different story and I dropped her off at the nursery before entering the sanctuary.

I wanted to cry. I just kept thinking "what if she thinks I abandon her in that madhouse of teetering, bottle-toting fussy babies? She doesn't belong in there, she is a happy baby, a good baby who deserves attention" and "what if she catches some sickness, some virus" or "what if they give her finger foods and she chokes"....what if, what if?! The anxiety for me to leave her in that environment, which has never been done by the way, was unreal! I kept glancing at the "Come Get Your Baby" screen, waiting for my number to start flashing. 148. What if she is scarred for life from me leaving her in there? Part of me was justifying everything....it is probably good for her to be in that environment once in a while, probably healthy for her little immune system to be exposed to a little bit of germs, good for her ego to not be the center of attention for once.....and on and on.

Did we survive without major catastrophe? Well, yes. But I was the first to pick my baby up, I swooped in and grabbed her up like a mother hawk. She was playing, on her tummy, reaching for a toy that was rolling away. She was fine. I had thought about going to check on her in the middle of the service but would that be phobic?! Overprotective? Ridiculous?

It actually ended up a good thing because they passed around communion in church and there's no way I would have been able to juggle all that and a baby kid too. She is getting to the point where she has to have playthings, she has to be able to be loud and vocal and squeal at all the cool, wondrous, madly impossible things that blow her mind. And, while she did wonderfully in church a couple weeks ago, I think it actually is healthy for both of us to be in those settings without each other. Just....doesn't feel healthy. I thought I would be less distracted without her there, but I think I was more distracted!

So, another week of errands, chores, dinners to cook, exercises to do, playdates to be had. At the end of this week, her hair will be a little thicker, a little longer. Her brain will have developed just a little more, with all the things she can learn in a weeks' time. She will be one week older. These weeks fly by, they morph into months and now we are 3/4 through one whole year. We are watching her sprout before our very eyes, a process I will watch until the day I die. It is so beautiful. There is nowhere I would rather be.

First Post-Baby Trip to Gym

Ok, so I went to the gym tonight for the first time in about 2 years, seriously. It's been before my wedding day. I have excuses for not going....my wedding day seemed to set off a chain of unfortunate events - death after death after death in the family followed by a rocky marriage (the deaths rocked our worlds), followed by pregnancy and now I am trying to balance life with being a Stay At Home Mom (SAHM).

Everybody imagines that being a SAHM must be the easiest job in the whole world and "oh, must be nice". Ok, I wouldn't trade it for anything but I have my own set of challenges to deal with in this occupation change. There's the loneliness of sitting at home with a 6 month old day after day. Why don't I get out more often, you ask? Because the simple act of leaving the house requires money - another thing I am dealing with. The gaping hole that is left when you suddenly no longer make tens of thousands of dollars, and the withdrawals from retail therapy that you go through. Not that I am even interested in clothes shopping right now because I am a whale (another occupational hazard - cookies and ice cream are my friends when I am oh so lonely). This living paycheck to paycheck business really stresses me out, we have NO spare change after all the bills are paid. NONE, seriously.

But the biggest challenge is loss of self-care. I forget it most days. I forget to love myself, to do little things for myself. If I could just squeeze it in somewhere between laundry, grocery shopping, making dinner, doing the dishes not to mention diaper changes, feedings, naptimes and playing with the little turkey. I noticed last week that all I do is take care of everyone else and I am getting used up!! I must replenish or there will be nothing left of myself to give. I don't hardly wash my face or put on makeup anymore and I rush through a shower as if the water was 45 degrees Fahrenheit.

I told Andy flat out yesterday. It wasn't even a question, it wasn't a need it was a must. I said "I am going to go work out tomorrow night when you get home". And that was it. I need to do something to care for me, I need to leave the house sometimes without Andy and Amara and just contribute to self. I was going to wait until Amara was asleep as a general rule of working out, but I didn't even do that this evening!

And oh, it was so good. I only worked out 45 minutes. I will have to work up to my 90 minute sessions I used to do back in the day, pre-marriage. My measly 5 minutes on the stair climber all but killed me. I lifted weights and I loved every second of it! And I deserved it, OH I deserved it. I love lifting weights, it is so challenging and not only does it make the body stronger but it makes the mind stronger as well. I realized just how much muscle I don't have compared to what I used to be able to do. I am a different person now - pregnancy changes a body permanently but I never imagined I would be so weak! I am going to start doing this at least a few evenings a week, this is what I am going to do for myself. And I'm not just doing it for myself, I'm doing it for my family too. I will be healthier and happier and more full of love to give. I will be balanced, finally!

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

Ok, because it wouldn't be fair for life to be 100% bliss, we have to have some bad to balance out the good. Hard times make us appreciate the good times that much more.

In light of this, Andy has pretty much been diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. In April, he had what is called Optic Neuritis. He was having problems seeing out of one eye. The doctors kept making quick referrals, so we knew something was up, and we got escalated to a neurologist rather quickly since this Optic Neuritis can be indicative of Multiple Sclerosis. So, Andy sat through a two hour MRI, and they diagnosed him with "Clinically Isolated Syndrome". He had a lesion on his brain, this Optic Neuritis, and had had another separate episode also, at some point. A nurse came to our house and showed Andy how to administer his medicine which he takes once a week - in the form of a shot. This is supposed to "delay", NOT prevent, any episodes and full blown Multiple Sclerosis. He has not technically been diagnosed with MS since a diagnosis is kind of a complicated thing which requires so many episodes in a certain amount of time and one of his episodes happened without knowledge of time frame.

Since then, Andy has been dealing with numbness and tingling in the torso, fingers, legs, arms, with it moving to different spots randomly. The side effects of his medicine (which may or may not work) include flu-like symptoms like shakes, shivering, sweats, temperature and a general fatigue. He takes the shot on Friday evening so he can sleep through most of the symptoms and take it easy all day Saturday. This past week he has been dealing with dizzy spells and has been refraining from driving, I had to drive him to work a couple of days.

So, there it is - the bad and ugly to our good. Everyone has ugly, and I am here to share it all, not just the happy "oh-everything-is-so-perfect" moments. Because, unfortunately, life is not perfect. But we do find joy in our little Amara Mae. When we found out about Andy's condition, he mentioned how he was really glad we had her when we did because she is such a stress reliever, and he could use that right now. She gives a little added meaning to life. She makes us laugh and smile every day.

Where's the Pause Button?

These baby days are going by so fast. Each new day brings new adventures. Amara is rapidly learning and moving right along to the next thing once one thing is mastered. She actually learned to clap a few weeks ago, did it a few times and hasn't done it again since. That's because now, she is learning to flip and flop all around on the floor, sit up by herself like a big girl, the laws of gravity (by dropping things from the high chair then inspecting what happened), and the laws of cause and effect (by banging her mesh feeder, repeatedly, and quite loudly, on her high chair).

It is all so exciting to watch but part of me is quite sad. I am at the top of the hill on this roller coaster, right before the first big drop. And once we drop, the twists and turns will provide moments of thrill and then it will be over. Just like that. The baby days will come to a rapid stop. Babies don't stay babies very long. Technically, I think they are babies until 2 maybe....? Then they're considered toddlers. But really, in my mind, between 12 and 15 months, the babyness starts to fade. And I'm halfway through all that already!

I have listened intently when people tell me, in warning tones "enjoy it because it doesn't last long." And I have! But I just want to pause this moment. I want to get a Saturday, when Papa Bear is home and push pause on the remote control of life. Just until I'm ready, maybe a few days. Or a few weeks.

Of course, I look forward to the future. I tell Andy that "next year at this time, I'll be chasing little Amara around." And today, we went out to eat for Andy's first Father's Day. There was a little girl at the table next to us, maybe 3 years old. She was holding out her french fry to her dad, telling him about something on it. I said "Amara is going to be so cute when she's that age. She'll be holding out her french fry to you and telling you all about it." And I pictured what she would look like, what she would sound like, the facial expressions and the words she would use (words way beyond her 3 year old level of course). But for right now, I see Amara blossoming every day. She is starting to actually understand what I say when I talk to her. I am having so much fun and I just want to be stuck here for a little while, that's all.

And that is why we should all seize the day. Because you can never get back what you missed. Yes, carpe diem.

My Sunday Drive (with very few momisms)

I went to a family reunion today. It was way the heck out in Lexington, MO. I didn't realize how far it really was, and I surely didn't realize that I would be pleasantly surprised by the drive.

You see, for the past several months I have been yearning to go on a Sunday drive...the kind my mom used to enjoy. They start out with a general direction in mind, and included spontaneous turns down unknown but interesting roads. Usually rural routes, gravel roads and an atlas are a must.

As I was driving to Lexington, stores, houses, strip malls, gas stations and street lights gave way to rolling hills, trees, livestock and old farmhouses. I did not expect the drive to be beautiful at all and was simply delighted by the treasures my eyes constantly landed on. I was always surprised to find what was around the bend. It was a cloudy morning, a little misty in some places, which added to the enchantment of it all. The ride home was sunny in a surreal, perfect way, casting shadows that only come from mid-day sun. Everything seemed to glisten.

The farther I got into the drive, the more I longed to belong to this land, way out in the middle of nowhere. I longed to breathe this crystal clear air and to stand in the middle of the ridge of trees, allowing their vibrations to reset my soul. I longed to dig my hands into the soil and feel it under my nails; to establish a give-and-take relationship with the earth as I gently planted my seeds and pulled up the vegetation that the earth offered - my gift for being kind and gentle. I longed to explore and learn the beautiful, strangely terraced hill I saw in the distance from the highway. I wanted desperately to hike the hills under the canopy of trees, to learn the different plants and know which snakes were poisonous. To know what kind of animal was making that strange sound. To be able to make a fire if need be, and spend the night in a small corner of the great span of land that I knew. To make a path in the forest.

I don't know what people do for a living when they live in ten buck two. I've always wondered. A big part of me needs the country. Another part of me would feel so lonely and isolated as my need for social activity is great. I would be frustrated at how far the grocery store, Wal-Mart and Babies R Us were. It would be mighty convenient if I could just be Amish. All of this would be covered. Not sure if I could do without computer and phone but I would probably surprise myself and find solace in the neighboring women. Little Amara Mae would grow up knowing how to live off the land, which would be some of the most useful knowledge a person could have. I wish I knew how to live off the land.

This Is Going to Be Fun

Well, tomorrow Amara Mae will be 5 months old. We celebrated by getting a Jumperoo. Actually, we stumbled upon a heap of a deal and got it super cheap. So my decision to buy it was part price but part need for celebration. It was perfect.

So, we are up to 5 months already. Month 4 was a blast and I am enjoying every minute, every second, every teeny tiny moment of it all. And, I find myself daydreaming about the future and I'm enjoying that already too. How is that even possible?

I have pretty much covered all the childhood ages. One, she'll be teetering all around. Two, she will be dashing hither and yon, confusing her doting parents and causing us to fret in the checkout line at Wal-Mart. Three, she will be sprouting a will and an attitude and putting words with these deliberations. Four, she will be trying out independence. Seven, we will be working on homework and social skills, trekking to girl scouts meetings....thirteen, we will be talking about boys (as Papa Bear is scheming a way to scare them off before they even start). Seventeen, she will be lovely and I will teach by example the importance of kindness, femininity, appearance, confidence, compassion, identity, and a host of other deep subjects to accommodate her growth and maturity.

I have thought of her adulthood too, but only as a generalization. We will be friends and go shopping together. I will support her through breakups and lost jobs, telling her that people don't deserve her. Maybe she will have a sister and "us girls" can go on weekend trips or even a cruise. We'll plan her wedding, I'll be there the day she births my grandchild. I will help her in any way I can, I will always be on her side but let her know when she is being foolish (except for sibling spats, to which I have decided I will remain neutral). It'll never be just her against the world, because she will have her mom. I hope I'm on this earth for a very long time, so I can be her mother not only after I raise her but for a lifetime. I didn't get that chance with my mom so I desperately want to give that to my Amara Mae.

Yes, I think about the years to come and I just know. This is going to be fun.

Bedtime Lullabies

So, I was putting Amara to sleep tonight and I decided to do a little serenade. Any song you want can be a lullaby - you just have to slow it down, preferably to match the pace that you are rocking.

The program included Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, Hava Nagila, If I Had a Hammer, Frank Sinatra's I Never Knew (but only the chorus). Amara had fallen asleep and I was just singing for the soul, a last few rounds of Twinkle Twinkle. My eyes were closed and I was just enjoying myself and I looked down to see two little peepers sleepily gazing at me. Amara had woken up, albeit not completely, to catch the last few moments. She had the most blissful, in love, effortless smile I have seen in my life. Her mouth was open a little bit, almost like she was trying to sing along and I just got so tickled at the idea of her trying to sing along that I stifled chuckles the entire rest of the song, and even one additional round to redeem myself.

When I laid the sleeping angel in bed I thought to myself that she might have the most peaceful night of sleep that she has had thus far in all of her 4 months.

To Swing or Not to Swing? Baby Swing!! Not The Other Kind.

One of our friends gave us a baby swing. She said "Oh, this thing was a God-send. We would just put the baby in it and he would fall right to sleep. He always took his naps in it". Their son had outgrown it to the extent of practicing escape artist in it.

I gladly accepted the swing, as Amara often fights sleep and I never quite know where to lie her for her naps once she has fallen asleep. The floor is too hard and she wakes up. The playpen is too low and graceful as I am (ahem...sure), I can not for the life of me set her all the way in the bottom without jerking or messing up in some way on the way down. The couch is unacceptable as I am afraid that her first time rolling will be right off the couch and she will have PTSD and never roll over again. And, ridiculous mother hen that I am...I carry her up and down the stairs as little as possible. I figure the less often I carry her up and down, the less the risk of me falling down them with her in tow. I know, I know....ridiculous right? But I am terrified of falling down the stairs with her, which is already happened once. Ok, I fell down stair. Singular. But it still scared me enough to never want to do it again. And I hurt myself. It still hurts, and that was 3 months ago.

So you see how complicated this naptime has become. I often just end up holding the little rugrat the entire duration of the nap, which screams "spoiled" and "beginnings of bad habits". So I thought this swing would solve my conundrum. I would put Amara in it when she started flailing arms and fussing, and she would pass out and have a happy nap and wake up and do it all over again.

Wrong. I put the little bugger in there and suddenly things look different from that heigth or angle or general position. And very, very interesting. So she sits in the swing, content but awake. And I sit there and wait for her to fall asleep, the whole time staring at her, my arms empty, and feeling like this swing is taking my place, doing my job. And she sits there, looking around, stuck in a swing, captivated. Not doing her "dead bug" on the floor (this is where her arms and legs are straight up in the air like a dead bug-she's learning her muscles) or sitting like a big girl in her Bumbo or grasping at toys or getting tummy time. Nothing, nothing but staring at things happening. Or at mommy, staring back.

I'm not sure what theories there are out on swings, although I can just imagine by way of my own emerging feelings towards them. I haven't done research on it, I haven't talked to other mommies about it. I think I will try it a few more times, but I might just end up calling it a baby forgetter. Stick your baby in this and forget about her for a while.

Don't know if I can do it.

The Sickies

I have unfortunately been experiencing a couple different realms of sickness that I have never quite visited before: having a sick baby, being sick while taking care of a baby, and being sick while taking care of a baby and a sick spouse. I hope to experience these very few times in my life, and especially in the small span of time at which our recent bout has been happening.

Amara got her first cold last week, the doctor said it would take 7 - 10 days to clear up. It lingered for its full 10 days, which was today - Sunday. But Papa Bear started feeling bad on Thursday night, and I was soon to follow on Saturday. Now, we have a well baby who is laughing and giggling (finally) and we're moping around, moaning and groaning, trying to meet feeding and playtime demands with sinus pressure and sore throat. I think every once in a while, nature just wants to remind us not to take our everyday health for granted.

Having a young infant who is sick is frustrating. They can't tell you where it hurts and there is not medicine they can take, other than baby Tylenol. Which doesn't help the coughing, sneezing, phlegm, congestion... I gave it to her anyway, for sore throat and aches. If she was a little older, I would have tried some natural remedies - some basil tea or lemon and honey or something. It is hard to sit there and watch your wee one in agony and not be able to do much save cuddle and love - which I did plenty of!! Oh, and sing You Are My Sunshine (which sounds more like "you are by sunshine" with a stuffy nose, as I force it out for my grin reward).

What have I learned through this all? Well, for starters, it is important to always disinfect doorknobs and railings and counters and such. But, my never-ending discovery is that moms are amazing. They do it all! They manage to make chicken soup while the baby is napping and not skip a beat. They find ways to tend to everyone's needs, even their own.

Mommies are amazing. And I am proud to be one.

Baby Bodies & Other Momisms

At the risk of sounding like a total pervert, I would just like to say that I love baby bodies.

It is fantastically refreshing to see someone so in awe of their body like a baby is. I don't have a great relationship with my body. I hate it. I know I shouldn't and now I'm rethinking this mind-body attitude but I have always been at war with my body and I should undoubtedly respect it a lot more than I do. But Amara knows no such war...she only knows 'whoa, hands!' and 'hello voice lets see how loud we can squeal', and that faces are meant for smiling.

I take such delight in the tiny knees and shoulders, in the itsy bitsy toes and tender fingers. When I change her clothes or diaper, I obsess over her cute-as-buttons belly (and of course razz it until she can't take it anymore). I have always believed that the only time a person gets to be perfect is when they are a baby. Before life tears at you and leaves scars and blemishes, before you have the chance to develop attitudes and opinions and biases, before you learn hate or envy or despise or hurt. This is the only time in life when people are actually perfect.

I never thought having a child would inspire so many thoughts that I have never had before. Like how my life is much more valuable now than prebaby - I MUST live to be here for my child. There's the total fascination that a woman's body can assist God in giving life. And a better understanding of my parents. Or why people with children have laugh lines (and grey hairs). But today, I am most amazed at the baby body and how wonderful and magnificent it is. And I will continue to razz and kiss, even the slobbery parts. Yes, yes I know EW. But somehow slobber doesn't bother you as much when it's your kid...or boogers. I often surprise myself by plucking out a booger here and there like it's no big deal.

By the way, WOW is mom upside-down. Wow!!

Getting Stupid

So I quit my job to be a stay-at-home-mom and now I'm afraid that I am going to "get" stupid.

I'm sure this is a reasonable fear, it is part of the reason I started this blog in the first place...I have to be careful not to let my mind go to waste. I don't mean to offend any SAH moms by saying that our jobs don't require as much thought or aren't as challenging because they are, but in a totally different way.

I have worked very hard these past several years in my career to move up, to purposefully take on jobs I knew would be tough just so that I could grow. And I was proud of that. I had a good job, and one that I even liked! I was knowledgeable and hardworking, seeking out new information and challenges. I worked at expanding my mind.

I don't honestly think it would ever be possible for me to be dumb but I swear if I start misspelling words, that's it. I guess my plan of action will be to keep blogging, keep on being social and having good conversation with like-minded individuals, and read as much as I can. This should not be a difficult plan to follow as I love these things. Hopefully my little observer will pick up on them and learn to enjoy them as much as her mommy does!

Baby is fussing, must go now.

Smitten, Absolutely Smitten

Ok, I like to think that everyone knows just how much I love my wee one but all at the same time, I know it's impossible for anyone to know what it's like to be me. So, I will try my hardest to explain it because I believe it is meaningful. If not to anyone else, it is to me.

Caution: May be sappy.

I could not possibly be more pleased with my child. I thank God for her each and every day, sometimes all day. No joke. Some days, I am just so overwhelmed with blessing that I literally sit there and thank God all day. I wonder what I did right to be able to deserve such a perfect gift and I have not figured it out yet. I think that surely I must have favor with the Lord for Him to have seen fit to bestow upon me such a child.

All the while, I am careful not to consider her 100% mine for we are all children of God and she is His creation, not mine. God chose me (lucky me) to watch over her, to bring her up and raise her, to be her earthly parent. I would have been grateful no matter who He gave me but I feel like I had a special place in God's heart when he decided to bless me with Amara.

And anytime I say me or I, I mean Andy and I.

Children are a blessing from God. Period. The Bible says. They are tiny, perfect versions of yourself that you get to mold and pour yourself into and then one day, let go into the world. And you hope that all that work you did pays off for this person because you love them unconditionally and want them to succeed. You get to watch them grow, you get to see them understand what you are teaching and use it in their life. Already, I see this.

I have always looked up to and respected my parents (duh, right? Well, some people don't feel this way about their parents and I feel very fortunate to be one who does). And now that I am a parent, I have new-found respect for them because I think they did a wonderful job and I hope I can be everything that they were. I have no complaints about my childhood.

Amara brings us so much joy. She is always happy, always content. Always giggling and laughing, rarely fussing. She has changed our home, there is a positive energy that resides here within that child. She is easy and it is impossible to be in a bad mood around her. I have read books, I have, in my pre-baby days, strained my ears to hear new moms talking about how hard it is in the beginning. Colicky babies, lack of sleep, leaving a screaming baby in the crib for 5 minutes while you step out on the porch to regain what sanity you can. Babies that won't sleep, babies that won't eat.

I have had it so easy with Amara. I think she is the exception, I really do. I think she must be. I know other moms love their children just as much as I do, but I don't know that many women get to enjoy brand new mommyhood like I have. We are 3 months into it now and I must admit that those first couple of weeks of juggling the new with the old feels surreal and quite zombie-ish. I just keep thinking that I will wake up one of these days to a fussy, much more demanding Amara (someone told me that yes, this will happen, when she hits about 13). But really, I think that content and happy is part of her personality. I think this might just be who she really is.

I would love her just the same if she was colicky. If she was fussy. If she was demanding or was born without an arm or with a disease or slow. I would love her just the same. But for now, I am oh so lucky, OH so blessed, oh SO smitten.

Moms, Moms and More Moms

It's 12:07 am and I'm all hyped up on tea. Yes, I know that sounds ridiculous but I had some iced tea with dinner and I shouldn't have. I used to be able to drink caffeine all hours but I got pregnant and swore off the stuff for 9 months and now you'd think I'd shot some espresso. So I might as well get some things off my mommy mind. Here it is.

Now that I am a mom, I find myself thinking about my mom an awful lot.

Which is sad because my mom died two and a half years ago. And I miss her very badly again, all the sudden. Not that I ever stopped missing her, but I miss her differently. I never got the chance to go over my infanthood with her in detail. She should be here, a woman should have her mother there when she gives birth, along the journey to answer all the questions and provide wisdom... to comfort worries and understand and share the things that only mothers know.

Sometimes I look at Amara and I see my mother. People make assumptions about their children awfully early. They start when the baby is in utero. "Oh, he's going to be a challenge child" or "yes, she is a night owl", "I think she's going to be shy" or "rebellious". I did it too! And the moment the baby is born, "oh, he looks like daddy" or "she has her mothers' toes". But honestly, I swear that I see my mother in her. I think she is going to talk a lot, and be social just like my mom. And she already likes being without a diaper; my mom used to tell stories about how she would rip hers off (yes, I am looking forward to that. I'm already scheming a straightjacket).

I would like to pay homage to my mother now by relating to things she said about motherhood, the few things I caught over the years and actually remember. I feel deep sorrow for all things missed here, for I have been robbed of this special exchange from mother to a daughter who is now a mother.

1.) My mom used to talk about how she would get stopped in the store or various places by strangers to comment on what a beautiful baby I was. I now understand this, as it happens to me a lot. I never knew how friendly people would be, never knew my little one would be such a conversation starter. It makes my heart swell that others take such random joy in someone that means so much to me, my little munchkin.

2.) My mom used to talk about how when we were babies (my brother and I), she always thought each new phase we were in was funner than the last. I know Amara is only 3 months old but I have already experienced this strange mixture of feelings: "Don't grow up, stay just like this forever. But oh, wait, I can't wait for you to crawl" or "talk" or "eat solids". I'm suspended somewhere between don't ever grow up and hurry up, hit your next milestone already!

3.) For some mommy reason or another, I cannot go to bed with a messy kitchen. I can't do it. I used to be able to. Now, it's an inability. I do not have the ability to go to bed with the kitchen a mess. My mom had an immaculate house, always, but somehow I did not inherit that gene. I do not keep a tidy house, never have. But these days some mommy superpower has taken over and cleans the kitchen before bed. And Lysol the countertops for heaven's sakes the bottles touch those! I never in my life bought Lysol (wow, it is expensive!) until the wee one came along and someone laser-beamed my brain into obsessing over the kitchen.

So, that is the way I can relate to my mom, and I am sure that as time moves on I will find more and more ways I have in common with the mother she was. I think she would be proud if she were here, that I am coming into my mommyhood just fine. I desperately wish she were her for some momspeak but I am super blessed with many wonderful women in my life, and for that I have a thankful heart each and every day.

The Beginning

Well, this is my beginning.

I am sitting here at the table...I woke up in the middle of the night and could not get back to sleep. I was sitting here thinking about the baby, thinking about how I can't wait for her to start sleeping in her own room because I am just itching to write before bed every night (and that is the only reason because I would keep her attached to me if it was practical). By time my little muneca (that's doll in spanish) falls asleep at night I am spent and find myself retiring for the evening as well.

I am a new mommy. My Amara Mae is two months old and I was just thinking what a shame it would be to not capture our new adventure in words. This is an experience I want to share - it is too sweet to keep to myself. Because finally, my life is filled with baby giggles. My house is filled with toys and high chair and "exersaucer". Baby blankets. Dr. Seuss. These walls finally echo coos, and reflect gummy grins. It's finally here, this, which I have been waiting for and anticipating for years...mommyhood.

Papa Bear makes a bottle and asks me the question we ask each other when he is home, "Do you want feed her or do you want me to?" I love to watch him with the baby, sitting on the couch with her in his arms, tapping her nose and speaking softly as though they have a secret. Andy and I have been married for over 2 years now, have been together more than 6. I knew he would be a wonderful father, if I could just get him to agree it was a good idea. But he is more than wonderful. He's amazing. He is gentle and loving, concerned and involved. He is everything a new daddy should be to his baby girl.

So that is us. And now, this is the story of our lives.