Pop Culture Casualty

What Happens When You Turn Off The Television?

2011-07-07T23:19:00.000-07:00

“I worry that our daughter watches too much television,” my husband said. We were clearing the dishes off the table after dinner and Story was using the fork she found on the floor as a microphone to sing the theme to Sesame Street.

My first feeling was defensive, my second was guilt.

“I know. I worry too. I turn it on in the morning while I make breakfast and clean the house, but then I want to check my email and do some writing and she’s playing so nicely in front of the tv." I stacked the plates together and put them next to the sink, sighed and lowered my head.

"I usually turn it off by 9 but then sometimes she wants to play with the iPad in the afternoon so it’s really only like ….” I had to think for a moment, “Three hours or so ... Oh my God! Three hours? Holy shit. I hadn’t even really thought about it. Oh my God. I’m a terrible mom. Remember when we said our daughter would never watch tv?”

“I know it’s hard,” he said and came around to hug me from behind. He says that, but he has no idea. I am my daughter’s main source of entertainment from the moment she wakes until the moment she goes to bed. We sing songs in front of the mirror, we blow bubbles on the playground, we do tea parties, we cut out stars and make them into holiday banners, we cook meals, we dance around front of the mirror in our underwear, we play dress up, we have screaming contests, we go grocery shopping, we do puzzles, we read books, we go to the library, we play monster, we make forts out of the bed sheets, we bake cookies, we go for walks, we make balloon animals, we make up songs. Sometimes I just run out of ideas, and sometimes I just want a moment for myself. I rationalize that I only let her watch educational programs, and that the three hour break from being my daughters full-time court jester is necessary to my sanity. But the truth is that Toy Story 2 is not educational, and teaching my daughter to play quietly on her own in her room would provide the same relief to my mental health.

“I’ll do better,” I said.

So today I woke up determined not to turn on the television. For the first fifteen minutes of the day, she cried every time I looked at her. Before 9:00 AM, we read Curious George, Goodnight Moon, Clickity Clack Moo, and the entire Biscuit series compilation. I could hear my email buzzing through on my phone but I didn't look at it. We made eggs together, ate breakfast in silence, and then we stared at each other making funny faces. Most days, I turn on the television for her while I take a shower. But today I covered the floor with her blocks and took a shower in fear of what I would find as I emerged.

I emerged to silence. The kind of silence that means she is into something that she shouldn’t be. I found her in her bathroom , the garbage turned over, a dirty q-tip hanging out of her ear and my laptop open and powered up on the floor with four keys picked off. I tried to clean it up while I heard her pulling over the breakfast dishes in the other room. I missed my morning ritual of coffee and facebook and blogs and it made me kinda cranky. I told myself that a television is not supposed to be a babysitter for my child.

We got out of the house ASAP and went to our babysitting commitment at the church down the street. The rest of the day was easy with a play date at the park, a picnic outside, a nap, bubbles in the courtyard and Daddy to the rescue by 7:00.

“I need a meeting,” I told him. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

I soaked up the car ride. I marinated in the spiritual conversation of the meeting and felt serene by the time I parked the car back in front of the house. I didn’t realize how hard a day without media would really be, how much pressure it would put on me to entertain. But the day was victorious. We did it. We made it an entire day without tv or the radio or an iPad. I told myself that like most of the true parenting moments thus far, it’s only hard for a few days and then it will get easier. I’m learning that the actual “parenting” part is usually not easy. I’m up for this challenge. I walked in the door feeling triumphant, and found my husband in front of the television with the baby on his lap watching “Baby Signing Time.”

He jumped a little when I swung open the door. "It's educational," he said,unable to erase the guilty expression from his face. I just shook my head. Tomorrow is another day. And we can start the challenge all over again.

Wordless Wednesday

2011-07-06T23:44:00.000-07:00

Best Fourth of July Ever

2011-07-05T13:37:00.000-07:00

Dear Story: Monday was your first participatory Fourth of July. I am all too aware that you will probably not remember this beautiful day so I wanted to write it all down to capture the memories.

We threw a picnic in the courtyard and invited all your playground friends. It was a sunny California day with a light breeze in the air. Shereen and Emann came over in the morning to help mommy cut out stars and sew them into a long chain to hang from the trees. Tal’s husband blew up thirty bright red and royal blue balloons and tied them together with a silver string to make a balloon chain. We covered the tables with blue and red tablecloths and covered the table with jam jars filled with red and blue straws, ribbons, American flags and silverware. The kids table had Fourth of July hats, leis and silver bowls full of fruit and candy.

Mommys friend Vanessa helped her spread blankets in the shade of the cherry blossom trees. Daddy put out our camping chairs to make a circle in the shade. Brian helped me fill the water guns and balloon bombs because daddy wanted no part of getting wet.

As the neighbors arrived, the tables filled with food. There was fresh coleslaw and homemade hummus, Doritos with corn salsa, warm chocolate chip cookies, watermelon, and fruit salad. Miles daddy started the grilling with ribs glazed in a cherry sauce. Shereen and Emann’s mom Hannan grilled a whole chicken. Tal’s husband made chicken and beef skewers and Mr. Matt grilled Argentinean skirt steaks. I threw our hot dogs, hamburgers, and ginger chicken into the line of marinating meat. Daddy says that every time he turned around you were eating something new.

You were dressed in a red, white and blue outfit from Nana and you held hands with Charlotte under the slide. You played with little Ms. Alma and Edan, Ori, Ido, Ronis, Cassidy and Miles, announcing each name with great clarity. “Alma,” you said, pointing at sweet Alma in her pretty pink bonnet.

“Did she just say Alma?” Alma’s mom asked daddy.

Ms. Heathers baby held hands with Ms. Vanessas baby and they squirmed together on a blanket in the shade. Mommy announced it was time for games and tied Roni and Shereen’s legs together with one of daddy’s socks. We did three legged races, wheelbarrow races, and water games. Hannan brought out buckets of water and sponges, daddy blew up the toddler pool and we tossed a few water balloons.

Then mommy brought out an angel food cake covered with Coolwhip and fresh strawberries from the Santa Monica market. We sang Happy Birthday America while the sun dipped in the sky and filled the courtyard with a golden glow. Story, you and Charlotte ate an entire bowl of hummus. You began with carefully dipping hummus chips, you ended with messy hands thrust into the bowl and then into your sticky mouths. You ate ribs and sausages and chicken, you sucked your first lollypop, you ate an entire bowl of strawberries, half a bowl of hummus, a piece of lasagna, three of Ms. Kate’s chocolate chip cookies, six Doritos and half a plate of curly red pasta.

When daddy put you in your swimsuit, you jumped in the frigid pool and started kicking and splashing and squealing. Daddy and “All y’all Mama’s” laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed, while you and the girls got in and out of the pool exchanging screams and throwing water onto the hot asphalt pavement.

As the dark ascended, we packed up the party, put on sweaters and met Judi, Chuck, Payton and Ella to walk over to the firework show. As we walked through the Culver City streets, the crowd began to swell. We formed a line and entered into a stadium pumping old school rock, the smell of Kettlecorn mixed with honeysuckle wafting in the evening breeze. Families in festive hats overflowed from beach blankets. You danced on the race track with Ella and Payton until sweat formed at the back of your neck. Between the sugar and the raucous laughter and dancing, I thought you would never sit still for the fireworks.

But then the music stopped and the lights dimmed and daddy lay down on the blanket and made a spot for mommy’s head on his chest under his arm and you laid your head down so sweetly next to mommy. You went completely quiet when the first shot rang out in the sky and you pressed your whole body against mine. We all lay on our backs looking up in the sky and you didn’t move once the entire show. I thought perhaps you had fallen asleep, but every time I poked my head up to look – your eyes were wide with amazement and wonder as you stare into a sky filled with exploding stars. Daddy squeezed me tight and I held you with all my strength, feeling your little heartbeat quicken as the show burst on. I tried to remember the first time I ever saw fireworks but it felt like so long ago.

We walked back in the crowd of happy neighbors and daddy and I let you fall asleep before we got home. I carried you into the house, your little limbs curled up against my chest, your head tucked under my chin. I buried my nose in your hair and you smelled like sunshine and sunscreen and strawberries and youth. I closed my eyes and tried to seal the smell in my cavern of memories. Perhaps you wont remember this perfect Fourth of July, but I will never forget.

Much love – Your mommy

Silent Sunday

2011-07-03T10:08:00.000-07:00

Sometimes a photo is all you need.

When to Start Thinking About the Next Baby

2011-07-01T21:14:00.000-07:00

There it was on the bottom of my monthly “What to expect” hospital newsletter, written in bold hyperlinked type, “Time to start thinking about the next baby.” Just reading the line made me gasp. At this point in the game I feel like I’ve passed a threshold, a pitstop on the hike, and you want me to think about going down to the bottom of the hill and starting again? Are you freakin crazy? Better women and moms than me have done it before. But really? By choice? Can’t I birth a three year old, or an eight year old? Do I really have to start over at the beginning with the sleepless nights and the breastfeeding and the oatmeal cereal and the reflux? It was fun the first time around, but I didn’t know what was coming next and how much more fun and exciting it all got. And now I do.

This morning, Story and I made scrambled eggs together. She pulled over a kitchen chair to the butcher block and helped me crack eggs on the side of the bowl. We heated the pan on high while we cracked four eggs and one yolk, we added a little half’n'half and gently beat the eggs. Then I held Story over the pan while she sprayed the butter. We poured the eggs into the skittle and she said, “Oooh” while it crackled. We used a curved spatula to keep the eggs moving and then we adjusted the heat to low and dragged the spatula through a few more times. Story said, “Cheese”, so we added a little cheese. And a little salt. And then we sliced a few strawberries and made up two plates. Story carried her own plate over to the table and we sat for breakfast. She used her fork and scooped the eggs towards her lips. And then she did something adorable that I will not soon forget. Just like Daddy does when the mac’n’cheese comes out of the microwave, she leaned over the forkful, and she blew.

“Hot,” She said, blowing on the eggs and then gingerly scooping them into her mouth. She cleaned her plate and I watched her with a heart overflowing with love.

My husband is afraid to have another child because he thinks he couldn’t possibly love another child as much as Ms. Story. But I have no worries about that. I believe the heart has no limit on how much it can love – it just expands to hold more. I have no doubt I would love another little baby with all my heart and soul. I worry more about losing the very precious freedom I’ve finally acquired as a mother of a growing toddler. You see, like my heart, my selfishness knows no bounds.

I worry more about how much longer it will take for me to get my waistline back, my breasts back, and my career back. I fear a new baby is the end of my dreams and my ability to make my mark on the world as a professional. Am I wrong?

Tips For Traveling With a Toddler

2011-06-30T23:01:00.000-07:00

When my husband I decided to go back East for a vacation, my first thought was how we were going to take a mid-day five hour flight with a 25 pound toddler on our lap that couldn’t sit still for more than eight minutes. My second thought was how I would do the entire trip by myself on the return. So overwhelmed with fear, I turned to my Facebook community for advice from friends and family and guidance to careful pre-planning. Here is the best of what I solicited:

PRE-FLIGHT ADVICE

When booking tickets, select non-stop flights only. The extra cost is well worth not having to lug baby on and off an airplane or deal with more than one take-off or landing.
If traveling with a partner, book a window and aisle seat towards the back of the plane. If your child is under 2 then you are well within your rights to travel with the baby on your lap. Airline policy is that if there is an empty seat on the plane you can take an FAA approved car seat onto the flight and place your child in the empty seat. Not buying a seat for baby is a risk you may not be willing to take. We are cheap, so we risked it, and it paid off. But had we been forced to experience a five hour flight with baby actually on our laps, I'm certain it would have been the last time we didn't spring for the empty seat. We booked an aisle and a window towards the back since middle seats towards the back are the last to go. When we arrived at the gate, I explained to a member of the flight crew that we were traveling with a baby and wanted to be certain that someone wasn’t sitting in the middle seat between us. The crew member was able to put a hold on that seat. Turns out the flight crew prefers babies in car seats too!
Don’t travel on busy days and avoid the mid-day crowds, leave early on a Saturday morning or later at night on a weekday – but don’t do a red-eye. That’s just mean to you. Our flight flew from Los Angeles to Philadelphia, one way, leaving at 7:30 AM PST on a Saturday. This was risky because it meant waking baby to depart and then being idle for one of her most active periods of the day. But when flying west to east, you want to arrive with enough time to enjoy the destination – so we risked it. Turns out that waking baby early meant she was tired earlier as well and we managed to get a solid nap out of her towards the end of the flight. On the way back, I flew out at 8:45 PM EST on a Tuesday night. Our flight wasn’t full going over or coming back – so we had no trouble bringing the baby seat on board. And being able to have baby in her car seat meant she was way more likely to sleep.

Make a trip to the dollar store and present new toys on the flight. I spent $12 on toys for the flight. I bought stickers and coloring books, crayons, a barrel of monkeys, a few race cars, a magnet game and couple of plastic fish. Story had never seen or played with any of these things before, so it was a total novelty and kept her entirely entertained for many legs of the journey. I waited until after take-off to present one toy at a time. She wasn’t sure what to do with the crayons – except nibble the tips. But stickers entertained for over an hour. We put them in our dollar store books, on the back of the seat in front of us, on Daddy’s face while he slept for five hours straight, on Mommy’s arms, and a few even made it into the coloring books.
Get a NEW movie on the iPad. I downloaded three new movies before we departed and Story watched them with no sound on the iPad much to my delight. She is a pro with technology, she can unlock the screen, pause the film, adjust the volume and switch between applications. Plus, when she finally fell asleep I was able to play solitaire. Having new movies held her attention for much longer.

DAY OF TRAVEL ADVICE

Bring an FAA approved car-seat. Gabe and I arrived at the airport two hours early with two carry on pieces of luggage, a baby bed, and an FAA approved car-seat. For 14.99, we bought this Traveling Toddler Car Seat Travel Accessory and hooked it to our carry-on luggage. When you travel with a child on your lap, they make you do the check-in in-person. They also scrutinize your carry-on luggage, so I just had Gabe stand off to the side with our carry-on bags while I checked through with baby on my back in the ERGO. They let me check one baby item for free on the way over, but they made me pay for it on the way back. Fuckers.
Avoid the clunky pack’n’play and buy a BABYBJÖRN Travel Crib. This sucker is light weight and has a little room on the sides to pack extra diapers and load in any heavy baby books. This bed sets up in two minutes and fits everywhere, even in our tent. Story loves sleeping in it and that matters even more. I highly recommend it if you travel often.
Don’t bring a stroller. Buy or borrow an umbrella stroller when you arrive. There is nothing more awkward then a stroller at the airport. Story rode in the back pack of the ERGO and I liked having her as close as possible when we went through security. I was able to get a friend in Philly to loan us an umbrella stroller that served all our east coast cruising needs.
Use the family security line. LAX has a special lane for people traveling with kids and it was much faster than the others. It also allowed me to bring on 4 oz. juice boxes and 4 oz. milks. Milk is very important because they don’t have it on most planes. If you can’t get it through security, be sure to buy it before you board the flight. And pack lots and lots and lots of snacks to serve as you begin take-off. I bought breakfast and lunch for everyone in the food court before we boarded, and thank goodness because there were no in-flight meals provided or available for the flight. I could have sold my french fries for $1 each :-)
Use your early arrival time to let baby run silly. We made it through check-in and security in about twenty minutes. For the next ninety minutes I chased Story through the airport, around sleeping passengers, down corridors, through food courts and crowded bathrooms. I made her walk from security to the departure gate and did all I could to exhaust her by the time the flight attendants called for people traveling with kids. We boarded early and secured the baby seat on the window seat of our row. Of course I still feared an unexpected passenger showing up to sit in Story’s seat, and I didn’t breathe until they closed the doors. Luckily, we were able to get an empty seat going both ways, letting the flight attendants know the deal before they start boarding is key.
Use the aisles and let passengers and flight crew entertain your toddler. Once the plane was in the air, I let Story walk up and down the aisles a few times and visit with any other babies or children. This helped her feel comfortable and independent. Mommy bought a few extra gossip mags for the flight crew and sent baby back with the bag of goodies. Of course the crew just loved Ms. Story and went out of their way to make our trip comfortable. Story made it both ways without a tantrum or restless moment. We flew back on our own and while I was scared, we made it with no trouble. Helpful crew and passengers were key to our success.

It’s always a gamble when you fly with a child – sometimes you win and sometimes you lose your shit completely. We got off easy this time, but following the tips really helped and I hope it helps you too. I thought the trip would have its struggles, but Story was a champ for the entire experience. She waited until we got home to torture us, and boy did she make me suffer upon return. But that’s another story for another time.

Happy Travels!

Away

2011-06-11T21:11:00.001-07:00

Forgot to let my blog audience know i'll be eating, dancing, and shaking my maracas for another few days...

Tonights Prayer

2011-06-02T23:33:00.000-07:00

Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray to lord my babe to sleep,
all through the night without a peep,
for this I pray and just may weep.

If I should wake before five,
I will be quite sleep deprived.
So please o lord, if you exist, can you just grant me this one wish?
Let me sleep and dream in bliss.

Amen

A Typical Morning

2011-06-01T23:15:00.000-07:00

Over on Dear Baby, Melissa is asking her guest writers to tell give you all about a day in their picture perfect life. Well, here’s mine:

7:05 am: “F#@kity, f#@k, f#@k, Story you are up two hours early this morning. Really?”

Since the weaning, she wakes up screaming, and today is no exception. I make my way across the dark room to her crib, tripping over the foot rest of the glider and chipping a tooth. She screams harder. I run my tongue over the rough tooth and try not to cry. It’s too early to be crying already. I pick myself up off the floor and reach into her crib.

“Shhh, shhhh, sweet girl,” but she is screaming and grabbing at my shirt.

“Want milk? Want milk. Want milk.” I try out my Happiest Toddler on the block technique to only louder screams and the addition of head butts. One hits me square in the nose and I let out a squeal and feel the tingle spread up my face.

I breathe and collect myself, “Story, No head butting mommy. We hug, we don’t head butt.

She is thrashing in my arms and I have no idea what to do with her precious little body so I lay her on the floor to finish her tantrum.

7:25 am: I fill a pink princess cup with cold milk and bring it to where she is on the floor. She stops crying immediately, removes the cup from my hand, giggles maniacally, says “Milk”, and begins to drink. I pick her up and carry her over to the couch where we both sit. Story loves to sit next to me on the couch and to show her approval of the situation, she leans her head on my arm. I rub my hands over her face to wipe away her tears. I drift a few fingers through her hair and give her head a little squeeze. She takes the milk out of her mouth and smiles.

“Mama. Mama.” When Story finishes her milk, she tosses her cup on the floor and skootches off the end of the couch to start playing with her toys.

8:00 am: Story follows me into the kitchen to help me cook breakfast. We pull out eggs and cheese from the fridge. I turn on the burner and crack the egg right into the skillet, whisking it lightly with a spatula to break up the yolk. I’m lazy.

I serve the scramble a little wet and sprinkle freshly grated cheese over the top with a pinch of salt. I slice a few strawberries and lay them on the plate to make it pretty.

While I am doing this, Story takes all the spices off the shelf and throws them on the floor. She pulls all the bowls from the cupboard and takes out each individual Kleenex and lays it on the floor.

8:15 am: Story sits in her high chair, eats eggs and drinks water while I clean up her mess.

It’s not even 9:00 AM and I’m already exhausted.

...to be continued

Sick

2011-06-01T00:00:00.000-07:00

Mommy, daddy and baby girl are all sick tonight, cuddled in a bed surrounded by used Kleenex. Baby just wants mommy to hold her tight, daddy just wants mommy to stop moving the bed, mommy just wants to be able to swallow without wincing. But I'm in the middle of a blogger challenge and determined not to let a day pass without a blog. Tomorrow is a new day...

Words!

2011-05-30T23:53:00.000-07:00

My genius child has been communicating words to me since she was thirteen months old. In the last month she began understanding me well enough to fulfill my requests, get something for me, put something away, select the pink shoes from the shelf, pick up the cheerios off the floor. She even seems to get a modified version of “time-out” that I tried this week, putting her in a chair that faces the wall and counting to 30. She actually stayed in the chair the third time I tried it. I explained what she did was wrong and asked her to say sorry. She looked at me and rubbed her closed hand on her tummy in a circle.

“Sorry,” she signed.

She uses a combination of sign language and one syllable words. My husband and I try to brainstorm all the words she knows, but we lose count. Here is what we can remember:

GENERAL
Dad*
Ball
Mama
Mimi
PawPaw
New
Day
Night
Star
Watch

Please
Sorry

Moon*

Baby

Signing

Time

ANIMALS
Dog*
Frog
Giraffe
Lion
Bear
“z-raffe”
Horse
Bird

CLOTHING
Shoes
Socks
Sleep Clothes
Hat!*

FOOD RELATED
Drink
Food
Juice*
“All Done”*
Finished
Water
Cracker
Milk
More, More, More*

MODES OF TRANSPORT
Bus*
Train
Car

ACTION
Swing
Happy Dance*
Bath
Play

Boobs**

*denotes a particular favorite

Look what I bought!

2011-05-29T22:38:00.000-07:00

Out shopping today and saw this great 2-for-1 deal, and well I just can't resist a good bargain.

Happy Memorial Day!!

Three

2011-05-28T23:26:00.000-07:00

Today, Story had a day long play date with two of the most delightful neighbor girls. The six year old brought her coloring books, her make-up case and her pink flower purse. Her younger four year old sister wore a skirt over her pants and pink princess flip-flops. The older one begged to feed Story her lunch. The younger one climbed up into my lap while I was checking my email. At one point, we all cuddled on the couch watching Monsters vs. Aliens, the older nudged into my right side playing with my hair. The younger one rest her head on my shoulder and drew shapes on my hand. Story sat on my lap and pressed her head back into my chest. I sighed. Heaven.

It got me thinking about what a home with three little children would look like. And I was lost in the reverie until I heard the ominous voice of my husband, “you could end up with boys.”

(Image via Ohdeedoh kids room tours)

Make Believe is a film about the work and the passion it takes to follow your dreams

2011-05-27T22:34:00.000-07:00

This week, I had the honor of attending the premiere of the documentary film Make Believe. The film profiles six teen magicians as they prepare for the Teen World Championship. Some awkward, some shy, some controlling and some overbearing, all of these kids feel different then their peers but all have found a place to belong in the world of magic. These passionate kids spend hours preparing their acts and sitting alone in their bedrooms with decks of cards. Some of these teens practice magic six hours a day, seven days a week to get ready for the competition. This is a film about the hard work it takes to follow your dreams and all the support you need along the way. I expected to see Tiger Moms cracking a whip to motivate these kids. Or even to see a few moms worried about the amount of time their child spent alone in the basement. Instead, the movie presented thoughtful and loving parents, moms supporting, cheering and aching alongside their babies.

I thought I would have to be a Tiger Mom, forcing my daughter to wet herself on the piano bench in order to push my child to achieve her best. But this movie is proof that when a kid finds something they are passionate about, you don’t need a whip, you only need love, support and discipline.

In one poignant scene, a South African mother sits next to her son in a sparse kitchen with a dirt floor and tells us that her friends have to worry about their children out at night abusing drugs, drinking and getting robbed at knifepoint. She paints a picture of crime and poverty in her village that can’t help but make you feel fearful for the future of her young son. But she looks over at her smiling boy, “But not my son”. While those other boys are in the street, she tells us that hers is in his room practicing his magic. And when he shows off his skills in the village, he is a beacon of confidence and hope.

Tonight in Los Angeles, at the Laemle 5 on Sunset, four teenage magicians walk the red carpet of a movie about their very own lives. The awkward teens tell stories and giggle and even perform a trick or two for the reporters. Standing behind the red velvet rope, holding back tears of pride, are their moms.

This is how you clean a baby.

2011-05-26T23:05:00.000-07:00

Blogger Round-Up

2011-05-25T11:59:00.000-07:00

Tonight I attended my first movie premiere and it was pretty awesome. I promise to tell you all about it later. In the meanwhile, please enjoy the links below, written by women far wittier and better rested than me right now.

People are always asking me to recommend baby gear and I've been trying to put together a list but this lady beat me to it. Of course, I totally disagree with most of her recommendations, but she is pretty entertaining to read. Just proves that no one else can really predict exactly what your baby is going to need.
One of my favorite lifestyle bloggers is pregnant and showing it off in some totally cute maternity gear by Isabella Oliver. Where were all the hip maternity clothes when I was preggos?
This hilarious blogger reminds me why I love being married.
I love a good breastfeeding story, especially one that finds clever ways to talk about boobs and uses the word hooters.
This fashion post by Girls Gone Child made me want to get pregnant again, just for the cool clothes. She totally rocks the pregnant look.
Behold! My next craft project.

So in love

2011-05-24T23:59:00.000-07:00

This morning, I woke up to my little lady crying for her Daddy. But it was Daddy’s day to sleep in, so I warmed some milk in a Disney Princess cup she picked out on our last trip to CVS and we sat together on the couch. She drank her milk, I drank my coffee, she pushed her entire little body into mine, resting her head on my chest.

When Daddy emerged from the bedroom, she pointed across at him, broke out the toothy grin, hopped off the couch and ran towards him. “Dah-dah, da-dah, da-dah,” she buried her face in his shins.

The two of them disappeared into Story’s bedroom while I cleaned the kitchen. I could here them giggling when I came around the corner carrying a cup of black coffee for my husband. They were in the little tent I bought at Ikea, my husbands long legs stretched out across the floor. Story waved her hands around as she tried to explain something important to her Daddy. He was patient and responded to her with soft words. I watched them playing together. He helped her stack a few blocks.

“Now you do it,” he instructed.

She touched his shoulder, looking up at him, smiling with delight at her latest accomplishment. He poked her belly and made a high whooping noise and she fell back on a pillow in a fit of raucous laughter. This little girl is so lucky. This little girl will never have to wonder if her Daddy loves her. She will not have a Daddy that freezes her out should she ever disappoint. She will never know a Daddy that gives up on her or stops trying to understand.

I’m so in love with my husband today. Not just because he is an amazing father and a giving husband. I’m so in love with my husband because he continues to grow and change and better himself.

This morning my little girl woke crying for her Daddy, but she didn’t have to wait long to feel his love.

To wean or not to wean, is there really any question?

2011-05-23T22:21:00.000-07:00

It was hard. And not for all the reasons I thought. I thought it would break my heart to lose the intimate ritual with my little girl. It did. I thought I would be overwhelmed by my daughters whining and tears. I was. But the hardest part of all, the part no one warned me about, was the hormonal ups and downs and the depression. That was the hardest part of all.

I wasn’t really ready to stop, but it was time. My sister-in-law (the baby whisperer) reminded me that Story should be getting rid of her nightly bottle soon and I couldn’t imagine getting her off the breast without a bottle to suckle. Then there were the books that warned me that the closer my child got to the dreaded two’s, the harder it would becomes to wean her. But it was two pivotal scenes that finally convinced me the time had arrived. 1) While paying for my groceries at Trader Joes, Story unbuttoned my blouse, stuck her hand in my bra and delicately removed my nipple to the shock and awe of the cashier. 2) A recent viewing of HBO’s Game of Thrones featured an eight year old boy King suckling at his mother’s teat and my husband kind of looked over at me and raised an eyebrow. The time had arrived.

I had already narrowed Story’s breastfeeding sessions to once in the morning and once at night. I asked Gabe to put Story down for three nights in a row with a bottle while I hid on the other side of the apartment. Then, when Mother’s Day weekend arrived I told my husband what I really wanted for Mother’s Day was to wean our little girl. He took over the morning and evening ritual and replaced her breastfeeding sessions with a bottle. We tried a cup, but she wasn’t having it. One vice at a time, I told myself.

By day three I was ready to go back to sharing Story's morning and evening ritual with my husband. At first, everything seemed fine. But then the crying and tantrums began. Our once peaceful little girl woke up screaming and kicking. She went to sleep in much the same way. Staying firm through the crying, and kicking and screaming and whining was hard. But this is what parenting is all about. And just like with the sleep training, I knew we would get through this and feel like awesome superstar parents when she finally got it.

By day five, my confused hormones began torturing me with moments of real darkness. Everything felt personal. My husband could do nothing right. One minute my husband had left his dishes in the sink, and the next I felt trapped in my marriage, contemplating divorce and daydreaming about abandoning my family. This was a first, and I’m not proud of it. Some might call it post-partum delayed. Fifteen months delayed. I was totally unprepared for it.

It’s been about two weeks now and the depression has lifted, I feel like myself again. I just sort of had to wait it out while being careful not to isolate or act on any of my irrational thoughts. My hormones stabilized in time to save my marriage. Baby is still fussy in the morning and night, but we have found that a new bedtime ritual has helped her soothe herself to sleep. We always had a bath time, book time, feed time and then into the bed sort of thing. Well now we do bath time, book and cup of milk time (that’s right! I got her off the bottle too!). We dim the lights one by one and go around the room saying goodnight to every toy and object. By the time we have said goodnight to the talking tea pot she is limp and leaning back in my arms begging to be placed in the bed. I lay her down on her crisp cool sheets, pull up the blanket and she hugs her little “z-raffe" with a newfound interest. I turn off the final light and tip toe towards the door. She calls out when I reach for the door knob.

“Buh”, she says.

“Bye,” I say. “Goodnight sweet Story.”

And just like that, another big parenting moment has passed.

Leg Rolls

2011-05-22T00:09:00.000-07:00

Happy Birthday Story Brynne!

2011-02-11T00:37:00.000-08:00

Story's First Christmas Morning

2010-12-25T14:04:00.000-08:00

Merry Christmas!!

2010-12-24T18:46:00.000-08:00

Curious Lips

2010-12-01T23:08:00.000-08:00

An Afternoon at The Grove

2010-11-24T21:28:00.000-08:00

Baby Steps

2010-11-23T16:34:00.000-08:00

Red Velvet Cupcakes

2010-11-17T23:21:00.000-08:00

My husband gave me a night off last night. “Go do something for yourself,” he said and shooed me out the door. I got in the car and for a few minutes I felt free and played the radio really loud. But then I wondered: What do I do with myself? What do I even like to do?

Has it been so long since I had time to myself that I’ve forgotten what makes me happy? I mean, don’t get wrong, I love being with my little girl and husband and this makes me extraordinarily happy. But there was a time before these two, a lot of time, when I was deliriously happy without either. I had a packed schedule every night. What did I do with myself? And where is that woman now?

Driving down Sepulveda Blvd. on a Tuesday night, I pledged to dig deep and drive until I could think of things that make me happy and things I enjoy doing. And this is what came to me:

A bargain
Shopping for a bargain
Design Magazines with photos of colorful kitchens
Pretty plates
Anthropologie
Craft stores
Craft fairs
My sewing machine
Learning how to use my sewing machine
My baby girl
Looking at baby clothes for my baby girl
Shopping for overpriced baby toys from Europe
Strolling through quirky gift shops
Farmers markets
Watching foreign language films
Planning a trip
Taking a trip
Men with accents
My husband
Bookstores
Strolling through bookstores with an overpriced coffee, collecting a pile of books, finding a corner and sitting down to read my pile
Strong women with loud voices
Coffee shops with friends
Loyal and loving friends
My sisters
Family dinners
Cooks Illustrated
Making dinner from a recipe
Baking red velvet cupcakes
Wrapping Christmas gifts
Making Christmas tags
Decorating for Christmas
Christmas morning at my parents house
Rearranging the living room furniture
Board games
A good book
A good movie with popcorn and Red Vines
Comedy shows
Improv
Laughing
A musical
Dancing to eighties music
Museums with things you can touch
Disneyland
A good story
Storytelling
Writing
Having written
Posting a new blog

I’m not sure why this list was so difficult to make. I can take care of my baby, my husband and my household, so why have I lapsed on nurturing my own creativity. Why is it so hard to remember what I like and like to do?

Story Waves Bye Bye!

2010-11-12T13:18:00.000-08:00

Nine Months Old

2010-11-11T23:18:00.000-08:00

My dear sweet Story, oh what an amazing month!

Between eight and nine months you quickened your crawl, started standing straight up from a squat, learned to wave bye-bye, turned the pages in the book by yourself, stopped eating baby food, spontaneously began a game of Peek-a-Boo in the back o f the car with your Daddy and took your very first tiny step. Are you exhausted? I am.

It started on a sunny afternoon, mommy typing emails on the couch while you played on the cow hide rug. You squatted, your legs covered in striped legwarmers that mommy bought at the The Mini Social sample sale. Then suddenly, without any hesitation, you stood straight up, turned your head and smiled at me. What might you have been thinking at that moment Ms. Story? What drove you to rise up and explore the world upright? Perhaps you were bored?

After you learned this trick, you began to add little flourishes like holding your stance for three minutes or hopping with both feet off the ground. Mommy watched with wonder as you experimented a little more each day. And then, it happened. You just simply shuffled one foot in front of the other and remained standing. I grabbed the camera and followed you around the house waiting for you to do it again. You added a few more steps that looked more like you were trying to break your fall as you leapt into my arms. But to my trained mommy eye, it looked a lot like walking.

When Daddy got home from school tonight, you fell to the ground and crawled across the floor like a monkey at the zoo when the trainer drops a carrot into the cage. You whimpered and wrapped yourself around his legs, pulled yourself up to his knees and raised up your hands over your head.

“Daddy’s home,” he said and picked you up to rest you on his left hip. Ms. Story Brynne, you smiled your toothless grin, hugged your Daddy tight and tried to bite his face. Then you laughed and clapped your hands, waved at me and said, “bye-bye”. This might be your first word.

You like to say it when you are ready to get out of the high chair. This morning I made you some toast strips, cut up a slice of turkey with some scissors, and left some scrambled eggs on the side of your tray. I was able to make myself coffee and a bagel while you happily fed yourself. You smacked your lips, made sucking noises and sang loud nonsensical songs between bites. When I tried to give you a bite of oatmeal you pursed your lips and turned away as if to remind me, “Mommy, I feed myself now.” To let me know you were done, you threw all the remaining toast on the ground, twisted your wrist and opened and shut your hand while you said, “bye-bye”.

Daddy and I took you to the mall last weekend for Asian noodles and there were a ton of screaming pre-teen girls at the Millions of Milkshakes watching a live concert by Dylan and Cole Sprouse. We wheeled you past the chaos and I poked Daddy in the ribs, “There is our future.” His eyes got a little misty as he no doubt imagined taking you to your first annoying pre-teen concert. My eyes got a little misty as I realized that you are going to grow up. At your current rate of growth, your Jonas loving days are right around the corner.

Slow down little lady. You have lots of time to be a big girl and only so many years left to be little.

Today you are nine months old. I still can’t believe how much fun you got in month eight, what is in store for month nine? It’s like your personality was born the moment your muscles flexed enough to hold your body upright.

I love you so much it hurts,

-Mommy

What is in your diaper bag?

2010-11-04T22:07:00.000-07:00

I used to watch them in the park. I sat quietly on my bench, eating a flakey croissant, managing not to get any of the flakes on my pristine black skirt. I watched them pass with their strollers, huge, covered in bright and colorful patterns. Fat. Ugly. Loud. I couldn't stand the sight of them. I dabbed the crumbs from my lips, I smoothed my hair, I tossed my napkin in the trash. I rubbed my swollen belly and vowed, I would never carry one of those over-priced hideous diaper bags.

I carry a $10 handbag that I bought at a street fair. It's covered in owls, has two side compartments and enough room inside for everything I need. Seven months into my pregnancy, my husband asked my father if he had any advice for fatherhood, "Always keep your diaper bag packed and ready to go."

My diaper bag is always packed and ready to go. It carries everything I need to get through a long day with my baby.

Here is my bag.

Inside, I keep several smaller bags.

The most important bag is a large Ziplock filled with three extra diapers, travel wipes and a small garbage bag to carry dirty clothes or an extra dirty diaper.

Also very important is a complete change of clothes, a sweater in case of cold and a pair of socks.

In addition to butt wipes, I always carry boogie wipes. These are great for runny noses and sticky fingers.

I never leave home without two bottles, already filled with four scoops of formula. I buy the small 8 oz. water bottles from Trader Joe's and always pack one alongside my bottles in case of an emergency.

Another must is the solid food emergency pack. It contains a disposable bowl already packed with two tablespoons of wheat oatmeal, a disposable spoon, a disposable bib and a pack of Trader Joe's Apple Carrot Crushers.

Some times I can't get the food into her fast enough and I need to buy time with a snack cup full of puffs. This cup keeps the little squirmer on the table after swim lesson.

Another essential item is the stroller blanket. I use this blanket for quick changes, to block the baby from afternoon sun and to warm her little legs on a cool fall night.

The final bag is filled with Mommy's essentials. A hair band, a nail file, hand lotion, breast pads and chapstick.

Toss my phone in the outside pocket, throw in a few loose toys, pack in my wallet, and baby and Mommy are ready to go.

When we get home from an outing, the diaper bag is immediately replenished, repacked and placed next to the door. Ready for the next adventure.

You can't be a new mom and avoid carrying a diaper bag. You just never know what's waiting for you outside that door. What's in your diaper bag?

Got pictures? C'mon Moms, lemme see...

Your First Halloween!!!!

2010-11-03T21:06:00.000-07:00

Dear Story,

This year was your very first Halloween and I wanted it to be special. We started off the celebration with a Saturday morning trip to the local pumpkin patch/Trader Joe's.

Once we had the perfect three pumpkins, we headed home to host a carving party at the house. You had over a few of your friends and mommy and daddy had over a few of theirs. Between seven adults, four kids, and seven pumpkins, we only managed to carve one pumpkin. Can you believe it was mommy's? I'm kinda a freak about these holiday things. After all, I have a tradition to uphold. Your mommy has hosted a pumpkin carving party every year for the last ten years, but this is the first year with children present. Next year I promise to get daddy to actually carve a pumpkin! Here are some pictures of the carving party.

The next day was Halloween and we dressed you up in a monkey costume and took you out with some friends for your first experience with Trick or Treating. You loved it!! Here is the evidence:

We came home and put you to bed, then mommy and daddy answered the door for all the late night Trick or Treaters. We cuddled on the couch, watching tv and thinking about how full you have made our lives and how very much we love you.

I love you little monkey. And I can't wait for next year!

Mommy

Crafting!

2010-10-28T21:13:00.000-07:00

BEFORE

Dear Story:

Your room needed some color and we both needed a creative outlet. So we sat down on a rainy afternoon and rummaged through our box of special paper. We used scissors, twine, and the heart shaped hole punch that worked over time for Mommy and Daddy's wedding. It was simple, fun and effective. The result is that your room is much more reflective of the lady that sleeps in it, bright and happy!

AFTER

Story Provides an Update ...

2010-10-26T23:19:00.000-07:00

To my fans,

Story here! And I’m writing my own update this week because my Mom is super busy with job interviews, chasing after me, and wiping my runny nose! I told her, “Mom, people need to know how many times a day I poop.” And she was like, “Story, Mommy only has two hands and right now I need both to pin you to the changing table to keep you from rolling around in said poop.”

I told her, “That is what toes are for.”

Well, she didn’t think that was very helpful, so I pulled up my iPad and got to typing. Let me give you the headlines: Mobility, Food, Poop, Sleep.

Mobility
The big news around the house is that two weeks ago I started crawling. Had I known the attention it would garner, the “oohs and ahhs”, I would have started it months ago. Seriously. My parents went nuts. Then three days ago, I decided to just stand straight up and hold my stance for a five second count. I thought my Mother was going to pass out right there in front of me. She gasped and cooed and followed me around the house with a video camera for the rest of the day.

Here are my top ten observations since crawling, cruising and standing upright:

Must my Mother follow me everywhere?
The view from 2’5” off the ground is spectacular.
Since learning to pull up and cruise, I noticed my parents have a lovely white couch stretched like a blank canvas across one entire side of the room.
My parents recently bought a cage and they throw puffs on the ground to entice me to crawl into it.
All of the chairs in our house are great teething elements, I especially enjoy the walnut finish.
Electrical cords are pretty much the tastiest things ever, I recommend you get the entire cord and plug into your mouth to really appreciate the sweet taste of copper wiring.
My parents have a lot of books, magazines, printer paper, newspapers and other munchies just lying around the house.
I’ve noticed a direct correlation between my increased mobility and the number of times my Father says, “No”.
There are so many rooms in this place! Who knew?
Did you know there was a little round sink in the bathroom just for kids?

I’m holding out on the walking thing until I milk this crawling/standing bit for all it’s worth. I figure if I pull out the big guns around Christmas then I’m getting all sort of new toys.

Food
Mom has me eating a bottle every four hours along with a breakfast, lunch and dinner of solid foods. Sometimes I just feel like I am eating non-stop. I mean, I wake up, I breastfeed and just two hours later I’m eating rice cereal, fruit, and toast. Two hours later I’m drinking a bottle, taking a nap, waking up and then, you guessed it, I’m eating again!! Lunch is rice cereal and vegetable puree and maybe some cheese. Well, I’m stuffed like a turkey on Thanksgiving by the time I get through the afternoon bottle and dinner. But Mom still feels the need to pop a boob in my mouth right before I go to sleep. I think the woman is trying to fatten me up so I fit in the 18 mos. sized clothes. Sometimes I try to trick her by taking my food out of the bowl and spreading it all over my high chair tray so it looks like I ate more. But she is relentless; she scoops it right off the tray and into my mouth. And don’t get me started with the songs she sings to try and get me to eat. It’s embarrassing. But it works! I just want her to shut up so I slurp it down as fast as I can. The only up side of this entire food experience is the puffs.

I love puffs. Puffs are these heavenly fluffy little star-shaped cereal bits that melt right in my mouth. I could eat them all day. And I do. You see, I hide them all over the house so whenever I want a snack I can just crawl right over to one of my hiding spots and pop one in my mouth. Favorite hiding spots include, but are not limited to, the following: Behind the door to my bedroom, under the couch, squeezed between the floor pillows, tucked into Mommy’s brassiere, pushed up under my car sear, in the sugar bowl, in the creamer, along the bottom of the fridge, in Daddy’s slipper.

Sometimes I find other things in these hiding spots. For example, today I was searching for puffs and found something special that I wedged in my cheek and managed to hide for around six hours until my Mother discovered it half way through swim class. I had just popped up from a dunk under the water when I thought it would be a good time to sneak a chew, but Mom gave me a puzzled look, stuck her finger inside my mouth and removed the fibrous end of a green onion I had been savoring since breakfast. She can be a real kill-joy.

Poop
Most of my fans know that I struggled with solid waste for a while. Well not any more. In fact, I’m pretty regular now. Mom even suggested to me that I slow down with the nasty output, but I can’t help myself. I mean, with all the food that woman crams down my throat it’s only natural that I poop three to five times a day. She acts like it’s all strange that I poop like a normal kid, reading the ingredients off my baby food, consulting blogs and taking my temperature all the time. I just want to shake her and say, Look, lady, it’s NORMAL. But the truth is that my Mom can just be a little paranoid sometimes. Don’t get me wrong, I love her like crazy and can’t get enough of her soft lady lumps, but she worries about every little thing. Just the other day I was eating her parking ticket and it got lodged in my throat so I threw up like ten times in a row until I was sitting in a pool of creamy spew and my Mom just freaked. She pulled out the parking ticket, wrapped me in a blanket, plopped me down in the kitchen sink and started calling people on the phone. Really Mom, is this so traumatic that we have to use the kitchen sink? I’m bathed in the essence of breakfast and lunch, must I also be bathed in dish soap?

Sleep
All my Mother’s friends ask her if I sleep at night. Which got me thinking, what happens at night that all the Moms are trying to keep to themselves? Is there a Mom party at 2:00 AM? Does she serve banana pancakes topless at 3:00 AM? Do Grandma and Grandpa come over at 4:00 AM with a pile of gifts? I decided to launch my own investigation, waking up at various intervals to try and catch the adults off guard. I noticed it takes them at least five minutes to come and collect me from my bedroom. What are they hiding in those five minutes?

When I wake up at 2 or 3 or 4 in the morning, I need someone to come and get me so I can investigate the perimeter. If I just lay there and ask nicely for them to please come in and pick me up, they don’t even have the courtesy to come to my door. So I’ve learned that the only real way to get them to show some respect is if I scream with every ounce of energy I’ve got, turn purple and act like I’m throwing up. Mom is a complete sucker for this and will almost always come running, scoop me out of the bed, rip down her shirt and stuff her boob in my mouth. If I’m lucky, I can get her to walk me around the house to check things out. Dad on the other hand, takes a lot more energy. Whenever I realize it’s his shift, I just have to do a little cost/benefit analysis because chances are I’ll cry for twenty minutes before he comes in the room. It will take me another ten to get him to reach into the crib and touch me and then it will take a good fifteen more minutes before he finally wakes up my Mom who just comes in and puts her boob in my mouth. Sometimes it’s just not worth it and if my wails bring Dad I may just roll over and go back to sleep until I know Mom’s on deck. Annoying!

Mobility, Food, Poop, Sleep - those are the big headlines over here. A lot has been happening the last few weeks as we approach the holiday season. I've left out all the little stuff about how I smile all the time, give kisses, wave hello and make the sign for milk. To all you babies out there, save some big stuff for the Halloween-Thanksgiving-Christmas holidays, it’s sure to mean more candy, more turkey, and more gifts. I’m gearing up for some big stuff this week that my Mom can show-off about with her M.O.P.S. group, ‘Mommy and Me’ sign and song class, swim lesson circle, UCLA wives clique and urban sewing club. I plan to use my new tricks to gather chocolate for Daddy on Halloween. I figure I can find a way to get the chocolate to make him pick me up at night. Stay tuned for a Halloween update with some pictures of a surely ridiculous get-up that my parents will make me wear.

To my fans – Keep it real. I love you all. Nigh Nigh.

One Day

2010-10-24T23:38:00.001-07:00

Dear Story,

One day, when you are two and you don’t want my help and you tell me you can do it “all by yourself”,
I will remember this very night tonight, how you clung to my shirt and pressed your sweet head against my chest as I rocked you back and forth until you fell asleep.

One day, when you are a teenager and I am so embarrassing,
I will tell you how you would smile when I would sing to you and pick up books off the shelf and hand them to me to read aloud.

One day, when you are graduating from high school and I take a picture of you proudly holding your new diploma,
I will tell you how many pictures I took of you when you were a little girl,

One day, when you fall in love and you bring home the man and you say, “Mommy, I think he is the one,”
I will think of a time when your daddy was the most important man in your world and how you would light up whenever he would enter a room.

One day, you will call me, crying from a broken heart,
And I will tell you about when you were learning to walk, wobbling and falling every day, and how only my arms and kisses would make it better and get you to stop crying.

One day when you do find the one and daddy and I watch you exchange your vows and put rings on one another’s fingers,
I will remember those little fingers splashing in the bathtub while daddy and I laughed and squirted each other with water and told each other how lucky we were and how much we loved our life and one another.

One day, when you come to me and tell me you are pregnant with your own little baby,
I will sigh and tell you all about what it felt like to be pregnant with you and how I rubbed my belly at night, pushed away the fears and told myself that you would be the most loved baby in the entire world and perfect in my eyes no matter what.

One day, when you hold your own little girl in your arms, your husband smiling and your own face wet from the tears of joy over your new little family,
I will remember this very night tonight, how you clung to my shirt and pressed your sweet head against my chest as I rocked you back and forth until you fell asleep.

Love, Mama

On Marriage

2010-09-26T10:51:00.000-07:00

Dear Story,

When I was a teenager listening to Crowded House on my walkman, I would close my eyes and create a music video of my wedding day. There was a white dress and gorgeous bridesmaids and a four tiered cake. There was a church overflowing with people, big hair, my father beaming with pride and lots of speeches about me. Of course, nowhere in my hazy teenage fantasy was a husband. My dream of marriage was all about the wedding. How foolish of me to not dream of the best part.

Just a few months ago, your father, his friend Mike, and your Uncle Georg moved our entire home into the back of a Penske truck. In 97 degree heat. With no AC. And it took 10 hours. While the boys ran up and down the stairs with loads of our life in their arms, I lay down next to you on the floor of our tiny bathroom and soothed your nervous cries.

"It's going to be all right," I told you.

Daddy worked hard, sweating until salt stained his shirt, occasionally knocking on the door to check on us and ask how I would like something packed.

“Hey honey, we taking that green vase?”

“Hell yes we are taking that green vase. I moved it down her from New York. It’s the only vase we have that can hold sunflowers.”

“We have about twenty-six vases already packed, but whatever.”

“Double wrap it in newspaper and then bubble wrap it and put it in one of those long boxes. Seal it on top with the clear tape. You listening to me, it has to be the clear tape. Then I want you to label it with one of the labels I printed last night that says glass, fragile. Make sure the label is on the top of the box, that’s very important. And be careful, it’s glass. Mark it glass, okay?”

I'm a bit of a micro manager. Okay, I'm a complete freak if things aren't done exactly the way I think that they should be done. Somehow your Daddy still loves me despite this. In fact, despite the many arguments about how many pieces of newspaper are adequate to properly pack a coffee cup, despite my tendency to start every other sentence with “can I make a suggestion?”, despite my exhaustive reminders that we only use the bubble wrap on colored glass items, your Daddy listened and didn't throw up his hand and walk out on us.

I know he listened, because somewhere around hour five of moving day, I heard a glass break and found my husband standing over the remains of one of my candle hurricanes.

I expected an eye roll and a "Great, one less thing to pack”. But instead, I got “Baby, I'm so sorry. Seriously. So sorry honey.”

He looked up at me, eyes tired from no sleep and a late night packing, legs dripping sweat because I sold the AC unit one day too early. My heart swelled with love. Oh sweet man, how could I be mad at you for anything right now. You are packing and moving my things.

And that is when it hit me. I've moved ten times in the last ten years, and always it was my responsibility to get it all done. These were my things and my sleepless nights. But these aren't my things anymore. And I never have to move alone again. I am no longer alone.

Don’t get me wrong sweet Story, your mother is no stranger to loneliness. I was pleasantly alone for 36 years of my life and happy for most. Both your father and I still love a languid lonely afternoon. But being with your Daddy has made me feel full in a way that I never imagined. I love knowing I am always part of a team, even when I’m by myself at the coffee shop or driving you to swim lessons or sitting in a meeting. I love the sweet comfort of mutual respect. I love the way your Daddy brings his creative touch to even the smallest of gestures. He takes such care with his quirky fun greeting cards. I love having someone to hold the camera while I pose for a photo to commemorate one of our wild adventures. I love that someone else has the same memories that I do. I love having a reason to make fancy dinners, and that he always does the dishes. I love Daddy’s bursts of energy that end with us in a car, on a road, to somewhere exciting, with not a care in the world. I love that your Daddy understands me. When I ask him to buy Crest sensitive toothpaste and they don’t have it in stock, he doesn’t just buy the regular stuff. I love that even when I am bitter or jealous or lazy and controlling, he doesn’t walk away. Your daddy is a man of great character, unwavering in his honesty, unafraid to grow from seeing his bad parts, unabashed in his love for his family. Marrying your Daddy made me feel like I won the lottery.

A year ago today, I was married in the Rose Garden behind Independence Hall, under the shade of a spruce tree. My husband wore a navy blue suit, accented with an orange dahlia in his lapel. I wore a strapless beige gown I got for half price at Neiman Marcus Last Call. The dress wasn’t white, we had cupcakes instead of a cake, and we opted for a park instead of a church. I was five months pregnant with you and it rained most the night. My bridesmaids were beautiful, so many special friends and family members blessed us with their presence, my sisters danced with my brothers, my mother and father both made sweet speeches, and there were lots of special details. My husband held me in his arms as we danced to our song, gently touching my elbows while he whispered the words in my ear. It was perfectly ‘us’. But my favorite part of the wedding was the man at the end of the aisle and the marriage born in that moment.

Love, Mama

It Crawls

2010-09-22T22:54:00.000-07:00

Where did I come from?

2010-09-20T00:10:00.000-07:00

And lo, the angel of the Lord appeared and said, “Lo, I am the Angel of the Lord sent here to bring you the good news. You have been chosen to bear a child. She will be a child of light, born to bring peace and serenity to the world. Lucky is the mother and father that will raise her in their home. She will change the world and make it a better place. She will be born unto you at the dawn of a new decade. You will swaddle her, lay her in a pack ’n’ play and people will come from around the globe bearing gifts fit for a queen. Behold the glory of the Lord.”

“Um, excuse me, Lo? I think you may have the wrong woman.”

The Angel of the Lord raised up her nose to the sky and folded her wings behind her, “Thy Lord has spoken. You have been chosen.”

“Okay, but really, I’m thinking you are not at the right window. I’m not married. I just got back together with a man afraid of commitment and as far as I know, my ovaries don’t even work.”

“Dare you defy the word of the Lord?”

“No, not at all. But did the Lord actually say my name or was he just like, ‘Hey Lo, go to the first window you see on Spruce Street and tell whoever is inside that they are going to have a baby?’”

“You cannot argue with the word of God.”

“Can’t or shouldn’t? Because I’m pretty sure I saw a light on in the house next door. You know, the house with that cute newlywed couple in it and the extra bedroom? Surely I am not fit to be a mother. I’m unemployed, unmarried and prone to overanalyzing and depressive thoughts. I’m certainly not responsible enough for something like this, nor unselfish enough to make a good mommy.”

“God has given you a gift. Accept it.”

And with that, Lo was gone and I was struck pregnant.

Nine months later, I woke up one morning and there you were in the bed next to me. My hair was perfectly coiffed, and there were some birdies singing in the window. I shook your father awake, and we smiled peacefully. We gave thanks and went back to bed.

pssst.... for the true story, see below.

Your Birth, Story

2010-09-19T22:13:00.000-07:00

WARNING: The following post contains graphic reference to human waste and it is not recommended that those of polite nature or modesty continue reading.

Sweet Story Brynne, you arrived so easily into this world. This is mostly due to Mommy ignoring Daddy’s pleas for a natural childbirth.

“I don’t want to see all those monitors hooked up to you,” he told mommy. “I think you should bring our baby into the world naturally.”

I stared at Daddy for a very long time, my facial expressions ranging between confusion - ‘who are you?’, anger - ‘who said you got a vote?’, amusement - ‘that’s so funny!’, and bewilderment - ‘did we not just both watch the same video of that woman having natural childbirth for 44 hours?’ I thought carefully about how I would word my response.

“Well okay,” I began. “Since we are already in the eighth month, we should double up on those birthing classes on your nights off. There are a few 7 AM to 5 PM classes being offered on Sundays.”

“Oh,” he said. And it was then that we decided that mommy would have an epidural.

Outside, the Philly air was frozen and several feet of snow had accumulated on the ground over the previous five days. God covered the city with a fresh dusting of untouched snow, as if he was tidying up Philly for your new eyes. Your father slept peacefully beside me and your Mimi slept in the living room. We were all ready and waiting for you to arrive. I shot up in bed, the room illuminated by the red glow of the digital clock reading 5:07 AM.

Oh God, I can’t believe I was just awakened by the overwhelming urge to take a poop.

That’s right, my first indication that you were about to enter the world was marked by an intense feeling of constipation. There is really no polite way to explain it.

Great. Just great. Constipation to add to the heartburn. I should not have eaten pineapple with sriracha sauce. See here.

Since I was two days passed my due date and the discomfort seemed to be lingering, I decided to time each short wave. Not labor. Definitely not labor. I feel nothing in my belly, no cramping, no aching, no pinching. According to the literature, labor is consistent. And this is hardly consistent. I am not going to be the idiot that shows up at the hospital thinking she is in labor and being sent home with a stiff laxative.

The numbers read 6:03 when I woke your father.

“I didn’t want to wake you unless I was sure. But I think I’m sure now. I thought I just had to take a really big poop, but I think, I’m not sure, but I might, though it could just be constipation, but perhaps I’m having a labor.”

He didn’t open his eyes or roll over. “Okay,” he said.

“Can you time them? I’ll be so embarrassed if it’s just a hemorrhoid flare up from eating all that spicy food last night.”

He was quiet for a long minute.

“Are you there?” I asked.

“Sure.” I heard him digging in his bedside stand for his watch.

“Tell me when one starts,” he said.

I had already been up pacing around the room for the last hour and had located a contraction timer on the computer.

“They last about a minute to a minute and a half and they happen every 6-10 minutes. I could be like this all morning,” I told him.

He yawned and looked over at the computer on my bedside stand, “Why don’t you just use the computer to count and wake me when they start getting closer together. No use in both of us being tired.”

Your father rolled over and went back to sleep. Natural childbirth, huh?

Alone in the dark of the room, still in the silence of the morning, it was just you and me. There was nothing else to do but feel the discomfort growing. It would be our final moments alone together, and I felt a sudden reluctance to share you with the world.

I got up and took a shower. Everything felt better in the heat and steam, and I leaned against the tile and prayed.

Please Lord, help me get through this. Help me to let go and remember that I am not the first person to do this. I am not special or different and many women have gracefully passed before me. Help me be strong and do what I need to do. Help me remain calm and focused and be present for this moment. And please help it go fast. Amen.

I got dressed and double checked my bags to make sure everything was packed. When the waves came, I bent over a chair or the bed and raised one leg in the air until it passed. Sometimes they were three minutes apart and sometimes they were four minutes apart. I went back and forth doubting if this was really labor. But by 8:00 AM, I was convinced.

I woke Mimi,“You ready to be a Grandmother?”

By 9:30 AM, your father and Mimi were dressed and showered, and we decided to wait as long as we could before we went to the hospital. I called your Papa and talked between contractions. We joked and laughed, and when a wave would come, I stood like a flamingo in the middle of the room until it passed.

Your father was unimpressed. He sat at the computer and seemed really annoyed whenever I said, “Here comes another one.”

He would push the timer on the contraction counter and go back to reading his blog roll.

“Hey, I could use some help here,” I said.

He turned from his seat in front of the computer, one hand still on the mousse. “What do you want me to do?” he said.

“Um, count. Help me breathe. Something. We went to that class together, can’t you do some of those things.”

“Like what things.”

“Oh God, here comes one.” I leaned over the bed and placed my head in my hands counting aloud. Your father stood over me staring, a blank expression on his face, your Mimi joining him in the doorway to watch the scene unfold.

“Stop staring at me!” They both looked away.

When the contractions were a minute long and 3 minutes apart, I told your father to call our friend Kevin and ask him to give us a ride to the hospital. Kevin is Aunt Elizabeth’s husband, lives down the street from us and was the only person we knew that could get his car out in the middle of a blizzard. Your Dad made the call and by 11:30, we were loading Kevin’s four wheel drive pick-up truck with a car seat, my overnight bag, My Breast Friend, Mimi, her overnight bag, your Dad, his overnight bag, and one very pregnant contracting Mama. It was a tight fit, and there were lots of bumps along the route.

Mommy tried to make conversation, “So Kevin, how are things? How was your morning?”

“Um, good. Are you going to break your water?”

“I don’t think I’m quite there yet, so how is the fam- uh, pardon me for a moment,” And I leaned over the dash and tried to lift my butt off the seat. “Uhhhh, ahhhhh, ooooh, -okay. Sorry about that, so the family?”

Kevin looked very nervous over the thirty minutes it took us to drive ten blocks in the snow.

We arrived at the hospital around noon, and they sent us to be processed. By now, your father had determined that there was not an app available to download to the iTouch that would count my contractions. So he pulled out the pen and paper and used his calculator watch to help me gracefully wait out the 90 minutes before they came in to check my cervix. When Daddy learned that I was already at 7 centimeters he transformed, helped me count, reminding me to breathe, and fought with the nurse to get me checked in to one of the new birthing suites.

“The new ones aren’t set up.”

“Well, can you set it up?”

“You want it set up, or you want me to be in a good mood.”

“Um, I’d like you to set it up, and I’d like you to be in a good mood.”

“Humph. Good luck with that.”

And the nurse reluctantly moved us into a pristine new birthing suit with maple wood paneling, fresh white linens and a mood light dimmer. What she failed to mention is that she would also be our nurse for the day. She took every available opportunity to point out the deficiencies of the room and remind us we had chosen it.

Thanks to the birthing plan we had prepared in advance, we had minimal intrusions in our birthing oasis. Our doctor wasn’t available, so we asked for a midwife. The contractions were not as painful as they were exhausting, and the excitement about what was happening made it hard not to spontaneously smile. Your father held my hand, stroked my back and whispered in my ear, as per my instructions.

Around 2:30 PM, when the doctor arrived to administer the epidural, I longed for a little sleep. I had to sit still on the hospital bed as he pricked my back with a long needle. Staying still as the contractions rolled through me was more of a distraction than the needle. I asked for a low dose epidural, causing our nurse to roll her eyes and call us “earthy-birthy.”

“Let’s see how that goes,” she said, thus challenging me to resist asking for a heavier dose as the day wore on.

After the epidural, I lay back in the bed and the pain reduced to a small rumble. We lowered the lights, Mimi sat in a rocking chair reading, your father looked through the latest issue of Wired and I tried to type up a feeding schedule template as I faded in and out of sweet sleep. About 5:00 PM, I woke with a rush of pain.

“I feel something.”

“Hmph. Probably that low dose epidural kicking in,” said the nurse. “Just push that little button over there and wait about fifteen minutes.”

I pushed. I breathed. I waited. I pushed again. Nothing.

“Well, it’s probably just hurting because you did that low-dose thing.”

Gabe investigated. I winced. Gabe held up the end of a cord attached to the drip at the side of my bed.

“Should this be plugged in?” he asked the nurse.

“Oh.”

I looked at Gabe with panic, trying to breathe as the contractions came and went through me with vicious force.

“It’s this new room. It’s just not set up right. I told you that you were going to have trouble with this room. Looks like it was kicked out of the wall. This room just ain’t the right set up.”

Mimi asked, “Should we call someone down to re-administer the epidural?” You see Story, the way the epidural works is that they give you an initial dose and then they hook you up to a drip meant to administer the remaining dosage. But I had never received the drip, only the initial dose, and a doctor had to come down to set it all back up again. The other thing Story, is that an epidural numbs you from the waist down and fools you into thinking you have no pain, so when you suddenly do feel the pain – it hurts!

“I’ll check on it,” said Nurse Ratched.

Relegated to a lying down position in the bed for the longest 35 minutes of my life, Mimi got the doctor back down to hook up the epidural again.

“You want it strong this time I bet,” assumed the nurse.

“I think I’m getting close, I’ll keep it low.”

Eye rolls ensued. But then the midwife came in and she checked my cervix and she said, “I believe we are ready to push.”

I looked at the clock, and it said 6:15 PM. My head began to swirl as I realized you were about to be born.

“Oh my God, this is really happening.” I said. The midwife flipped on the light and your daddy and Mimi positioned themselves on either side of the bed. The nurse stood at the head of the bed. Oh my God. This is it. This is really happening. Oh no. I’m not ready. I don’t want this. Can I change my mind?

Your daddy squeezed my hand and fixed me in a stare that let me know we were a team, doing this together.

“When you feel the next contraction, I want you to push,” said the midwife.

I remembered this part from the birthing class. I was supposed to push like I was moving out a big poo. I squeezed my eyes shut, took a deep breath and pushed with all my strength. I gritted my teeth, touched my chin to my chest, and pushed until the veins at the side of my head began to pulse. My eye sockets blackened from the blood rush.

“And stop,” she said. I had done it. I was so proud. This is when the nurse leaned over and said, “This could take anywhere from two to four hours, at least.”

“What? Are you kidding me? In the movies, the pushing part lasts like seven minutes tops.”

The nurse smiled, “Sorry.”

We pushed after every other contraction and then we rested. The low dose epidural meant I could feel the contraction coming, so I knew exactly when to push. When the midwife left the room, the nurse told me to push, take a quick breath and push down again, like a double whammy push. So I did it… with every contraction for the next 15 minutes. And when the midwife came back into the room, she sat down and said, “Whoa, you need to relax, this baby’s coming fast and you don't want to tear." She looked closer, "Actually, you are already torn in three places.”

I shot a dirty look at the nurse.

The midwife had me push and then relax and push and then relax. “We are just going to gently loosen you up, okay?”

But you had other plans. And on the next push, the midwife pushed back the paper blanket and got into position.

“I can see her head,” she said. And that’s when I looked at Daddy and could see the tears rolling down his face and the lightest, sweetest smile on his lips.

“Oh my God. I can see her head, honey.” He was so excited to report the news.

Mimi squeezed my right hand and Daddy squeezed my left. Every time I pushed, they squeezed back and said, “You are doing great.”

“Here she comes.” And then I pushed for the last time.

There was movement and bustling and within a minute you were there on my chest, a wriggling soft mass of jellied flesh. You strained your neck to look up at me. You moved your head carefully around, surveying your new world. Your tiny lips. Your glassy eyes. Your delicate long fingers. You were so perfect, and I was so happy.

I cried. I couldn’t help it. I tried not to, but I was so relieved and happy and exhausted, all at the same time. Your daddy cried too and held us both so tight that I could feel him shaking through my gown. We were a family. I had been so scared of what life would be like with you and suddenly, I couldn’t imagine life without you.

You were born at 7 PM on February 11th, 2010 in the country’s first hospital in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania: 7 pounds 8 ounces. Barack Obama was president. District 13 was the number one movie. There was five inches of snow melting on the ground outside.

Hold on to your hat....

2010-09-18T17:05:00.000-07:00

Story takes a stand. And life will never be the same.

Freedom is sweet.

Wanted: Full-Time Stay-At-Home Mom, Pays -$500 a week, No Breaks and No Benefits

2010-09-13T22:52:00.003-07:00

Dear Ms. Story Brynne:

It is with great enthusiasm that I submit my application for consideration for the position of Full-Time Stay-at-Home Mom. Ewe R. Daddy recommended I apply, and I think you will find from a review of my resume and background that I will make an excellent addition to your Development Team. A position on your team would be a great asset to my personal growth and bring me closer to my goals of enlightenment as an individual. Three particular areas of my background will contribute to the growth and success of your future.

My entrepreneurial background will be a valuable asset as you develop your navigation plan in the coming months. I worked my way through college by building my own guerilla marketing company, supplying attractive young men and women to local beer and liquor distributors for promotional events. Just as I was able to grow a $500-a-month weekend job into a $10,000-a-month thriving business, I plan to increase your weight by 20% by Christmas and 50% by September 2011. I am a skilled self-starter and can be of great assistance as you learn to pull yourself up off the ground without pulling heavy objects over onto yourself. Together, we can build you up from a baby wearing number 3 diapers and eating number 1 baby food, to a toddler wearing number 5 diapers and eating number 3 baby food.

When I got my MA in International Affairs, I studied Italian and Serbo-Croatian, spending a year in Italy learning culinary arts and a year in Bosnia building a youth employment program. My extensive language and culture background, coupled with five years of high school Spanish, will prove useful as you develop your first few words and string together sentences of great intellectual depth. With my help, you can be uttering, “Ma-ma, more ba-ba” and “Da-da, poo-poo, change me”, before the end of the next fiscal year. My international travels throughout Eastern and Central Europe demonstrate that I am accustomed to figuring out what people want, even when they are rapidly uttering unintelligible gibberish. I look forward to interpreting your needs with cultural sensitivity and helping you find the right words to ease your entrance into society.

As you move towards your teens, you will be looking for someone with well-developed consulting skills. When I first began working with CEOs, Board Chairs and senior level executives, I had to learn to keep my ego in check. It was more important to my paycheck that my clients feel they were coming up with the ideas than it was for me to get credit for my hard work. This skill will be especially valuable while doing science projects together, going over math problems and learning phonics. It will be especially helpful while working with a teenage daughter. I hope to be able to bite my tongue as often as possible when you think you are the center of the universe. My experiences advising senior level leadership with patience, trying very hard not to be condescending and suppressing eye-rolls, will be extremely valuable to your progressing self-esteem.

My counsel built a $650 million capital campaign plan, raised $30 million for a science museum, brokeraged a partnership between the Gates Foundation, the United Nations Foundation and the United Methodist Church, and thwarted a terrorist attack during the 2002 Bosnian elections – yet I know I will still find it a challenge helping you pick out an appropriate dress for your first prom and finding the right words to heal your first broken heart. Ms. Story, these are exactly the sorts of challenges that I seek in a new position.

With the recent depletion of the funds in my 401 k plan, I am ready to begin work ASAP. I will contact your offices in the morning to find the best time between naps and feeding for us to meet. I look forward to discussing the position over a breast.

Sincerely – Ewe R. Mama

Swimming Lessons

2010-09-11T10:22:00.009-07:00

Dear Story,

Happy seven month birthday!!! So by now we know each other pretty well, and it should be no surprise to you that I occasionally isolate from the world, seemingly drop off the end of the earth and have no time to update my blog. But just because I don’t have time to write you love letters, doesn’t mean I don’t notice every tiny little changing detail in your world and note it with significance.

For example, just the other day, as we lay on mommy and daddy’s bed, bathed in the yellow glow of morning sunlight, you outlining mommys face with your cherub chubbed fingers, you took your hand to your leg and itched a little spot on your upper thigh where you had recently had your tetanus shot. You scratched an itch! While I know this may seem insignificant, it involved the type of pain-hand coordination that little babies can't grasp. But you my dear, you are not a little baby any more. I sighed and was overcome with gratitude that I am privileged to watch you as you blossom.

Of course, there are many more exciting developments then your ability to scratch an itch, but each one is special to me and daddy and I want to make sure that you know we see them all.

July and August were very busy months for our family and while you emerged unscathed, there were a lot of challenges and adjustments. For starters, we camped our way from Ina and Poppa’s house to Aunt Katryn and Pearl’s house and then to our new home in sunny LA. You LOVED camping. Please see evidence below.

I theorize that you just loved sleeping all night next to mommy and daddy and having every day together as a family. But you may have actually loved the camping experience of roughing it without daily baths, wearing the same clothes all day and sleeping in the car. All I know is that you smiled and laughed throughout it all. Even when mommy and daddy were yelling at each other about missed exits, what is considered a reasonable amount of time between bathroom breaks, and where we should stop for lunch.

Once we arrived in LA, we set up our new house and then mommy and daddy turned all their attention to you. This is when we discovered that you had developed some bad sleeping habits and we had to do a little Ferberizing. Mommy read the book and then Daddy read the book and we were all ready to put it into action when you suddenly decided to sleep right through the night from 7pm to 7am, all by yourself. Just like a little angel.

Of course, you didn’t stay in this zone, so eventually we had to Ferber. And here is what we did. We bathed you and put you in your footed jammies, made you a big bottle and laid you gently on the floor in your new room to feed you. Daddy read you a story and then we both kissed you, collectively about 100 times so that you knew how much we loved you. Then mommy put you in the bed and said, “Goodnight sweet Story Brynne. Mommy loves you so much. You are going to have a long sleep and feel so refreshed in the morning. Dream about colors and feathers and whatever babies dream about when they are sleeping soundly. See you in the morning.” And then I left the room and you screamed so loud I thought you were going to bust open a vein on your forehead.

Oh how it hurt mommy’s heart to hear you scream, but I knew we had to let you learn how to put yourself to sleep. I wanted to make sure you didn’t feel abandoned or ignored, so after about three minutes I came back in the room and kissed your tears away and told you I loved you and that I would see you in the morning. You calmed as I left the room again and then you worked yourself back up into a frenzy and I set a little egg timer for five minutes and paced outside your door. But then something amazing happened. You stopped crying at about the four minute mark. The longest four minutes of my life!! But you stopped and you didn’t make another peep until 7 am the next morning. I praised Allah, Jesus, Joseph and Buddha and told everyone you were now sleeping through the night.

But like always, just when I think I have you figured out, you switch it all up on me. Within a few days, you were waking up again at all hours of the night and I had to do the egg timer again to set you straight. I think you started to understand that we were not far away and were just on the other side of the door. You cried less and less and then it happened that you just started closing your eyes before I even left the room.

So now it’s been about two weeks of solidly sleeping through the night. Sometimes you sleep 12 hours, but most the time you sleep 11. You go to bed every night at 7pm and wake anytime between 5:30am and 7:30am. And some times, you just eat and go right back to sleep until 8 or 9. This is called "sleeping in" and only allowed on Saturday and Sunday mornings.

Sleeping through the night is such a big milestone and we are so proud of our little honey bear. But don’t think we haven’t noticed that you are quickly approaching a second big milestone; crawling.

We have tried our best to retard your movement and slow your mobile growth. Daddy would like to bind your legs together so you never figure it out, but even with your legs bound I have a feeling you would find a way to scootch yourself across the floor. Right now, you roll over on your back, arch into 'bridge', and push yourself across whatever surface you are on by balancing on the top of your head. This particular move frightens me and I much prefer you learn to crawl on your belly like the cartoon babies on the corner of the Gerber food.

You definitely want to move. Things that motivate a creative rolling or scootching technique and requisite tears of frustration include, but are not limited to, the following:

mommy’s phone
daddy’s phone
sharp objects like mommy’s scissors and Global knife set
mommy’s new 3G iPad
medicine bottles
full and empty baby bottles
full cups of hot steamy coffee
and the sight of mommy's naked teets

I’m pretty sure that any one of the above will finally get you up on your knees. But for now, I’m content with your frustration. What you like to do instead of crawl, is pull yourself up on things like mommy’s leg, the coffee table, your crib and the chest of drawers in your bedroom. You like to stand up in your new high chair when I try to feed you. And food is another one of your exciting developments.

This last month, you have started getting bored with a single serving of solid baby food number 1 strained sweet peas. So we started with the twos and adding oatmeal and giving you puffs and yogurt drops and cheerios and letting you hold the spoon and trying out a sippee cup, and wouldn’t you know it – you LOVE to eat!! You pretty much start giggling whenever mommy gets close to the high chair. When you eat something you love like pears with oatmeal and cinnamon, you smile and throw your head back and hum, “mmmmmmmmm”. It’s only the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard, besides the sound of you laughing in the bath tub.

You love bath time and you are usually so tired by the time it arrives that you deliriously laugh through the entire experience. Dad usually gives you a bath. It’s his special time with you when he gets home from school and I love to hear the two of you playing with your bath toys over the hum of the bathroom fan. Daddy has voices and accents for all the little squirters in the tub and when you are not trying to drink the water, you smile and grab daddy’s wet arm hair and coo and scream and laugh.

Your laughter is so delicious that mommy could eat it for breakfast, lunch, dinner and dessert. Though I would have to get a side of baby babble, because that is also very nourishing. And mom needs a lot of nourishing these days. I’m a little homesick for familiar faces, spaces and sounds. I’ve never loved change. But I’ve always loved the idea of change.

Starting out new somewhere involves a period of transition where everything and everyone is new and you have to date new places, new meetings, new friends and new modes of transportation. Awkward first encounters are to be expected. But with each visit to the new coffee shop, each new AA meeting, each freshly discovered route home from the grocery store, it gets easier. And that’s a lesson worth learning and worth passing on to my baby girl. The quicker you push yourself into the uncomfortable abyss of newness, the quicker you emerge on the other side. When we go to swim lessons, we don’t put our toes in the water and then our thighs and then our heads, we just jump right in, take the shock all at once and we are used to the cold water before we know it! Which reminds me, we are late for swim lessons.

My dear sweet Story Brynne Hesson, one more thing about mommy is that she is always late. But again, like the isolating thing, this doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you or appreciate you or see you and all that you are becoming.

Let’s get kicking - Mom

Happy Birthday To Me!

2010-07-11T09:49:00.001-07:00

Hello world!! Today, I am five months old!

I thought I was five months old when I was twenty weeks, but Mom says that’s not the way it works and from now on we are counting month to month. So since February only had 28 days this year I am only just now turning five months old (even though I’m twenty-one weeks and four days old!). Mom says not to make a big deal of it – it works out in the long run and lets her tell people I am developmentally advanced for my age. It has been sort of a big month for me.

The Move
The day after my Auntie Elizabeth and Uncle Kevin got married, my parents packed up all my toys and clothes and stuff and Mom took me on my very first ever plane ride. Mom seemed real nervous about things, but I slept through most the ride. She was really uptight for the next few days and I had to wait ten whole days to see Daddy again. I thought once she saw Daddy she would chill out a little bit, but she just complained that he took up too much room in the bed. I could feel the tension, so for that first week, I woke up every few hours to make sure they were doing okay and had someone to talk to.

I think it helped because they seem much happier now and I don’t need to wake up so often to check on them. Mom has me sleeping in my own little room that she calls ‘the closet’. It’s super cool and dark and I have my very own night light. I got to meet my Papa for the first time and see my Ina again. They love me! Ina is always making lots of funny noises and sounds and smiling at me. Papa like to take naps with me and somehow he always makes me feel safe.

Mom says we are only here for a little while before we move to our new home in Los Angeles. She says I am going to love LA because it’s sunny all the time and there will be lots of other kids to play with. Don’t tell her, but I miss our home in Philly, our daily walk and going to the Park every day. I think Mommy misses Philly too. She got a little emotional when she saw Philly Cheesesteaks on the menu at Jake’s. Moving wasn’t my choice, but I can see that it makes Mommy and Daddy pretty excited about our future. And Daddy says that Home is wherever we are all together. So I’m excited about our new home too. I hope we can bring Papa and Ina with us when we move to the next place. They are really fun to play with, Papa cooks dinner for Mommy and Daddy and Ina takes me shopping all the time!

Toys
Ina took me shopping right the day after we got off the plane. She and Mommy bought me all kinds of strange things to play with that I had never seen before. Thank goodness! Boy was I getting bored of staring at Mommy as my main form of entertainment. I love the noisemakers and the jumper-thingy is awesome. I could spend all day in that jumper-thingy. It plays music and let’s me sit up like a big girl and watch Mommy making dinner with Papa. It makes Ina do some crazy things, like yell in a high-pitched voice, “Boing, Boing, Boing, Boing little Geraldine McBoingboing.”

My least favorite toy is the Bumbo. Mommy brought it home from Target and I tried to tell her I was too big for it but she crammed me into it anyways. When I stood up, the Bumbo was stuck to my butt and I had to have my thighs pulled out of it. I am now 18 pounds, can sit up all by myself and stand with support, so Mom – too big for the Bumbo. Told you so.

I love all my new books, toys, jumpy-things and noise makers, but my favorite toys of all are my toes. I could talk to them for hours, they taste delicious and I never have to ask Mom where she put them. My piggies are spectacular.

Sir Poops-a-Lot
I poop more now. I know my Mom would want you to know. Maybe the plane ride jostled things around a bit. Mom thinks it’s because she is now feeding me solid foods. That’s right! I eat big people food now. Well, I haven’t actually ever seen a big person eating the food from those little jars, but I see them eat with a spoon and now I eat with a spoon too! I like sweet potatoes, green beans and sweet peas. I don’t like carrots. I scream when they try to feed me carrots. Mom just doesn't understand my issues with texture or the way they turn my fingers orange. I just don’t like them.

I get to eat with a spoon twice a day and I try to keep it fun by banging on the table and making raspberries when my Mom least expects it. Mom makes the best face when I spit peas at her, it's classic. Tonight, I showed Papa how I didn’t even need Mommy to feed me. I could just pick up the bowl and put my face in it and then throw it on the floor. I think he was very impressed because he got down on his hands and knees with a towel to wipe away the tears of laughter.

Mommy and I went to Target and picked up a few new flavors for this week. She wants to make it fresh for me – but I just think that’s crazy when we can just buy up a variety pack at Target and I can eat Pears and Prunes and Apples, something different every night. I hope she doesn’t try making me dinner the way she makes it for Daddy. Because then she might want me to start doing dishes and I hate dishes.

Lullaby and Goodnight
Mom would want me to report that I no longer sleep with a swaddle. I made it as tough as possible for Mom to break me of the habit, but she finally did it. No more sleeping in a straight jacket and strangely, I now just go to sleep when Mom puts me in the bed. Of course, I whine a little, but Mommy just puts her hand on my tummy and looks at me until I fall asleep. I wake up once at 3:30 AM to check on Mom, but she seems to be okay, so I might just start sleeping through until my alarm goes off at 8:00 AM.

Night time is my favorite part of the day because Mom feeds me sooooo much. She starts at 6:00 PM with the green beans and then at 7 PM with a bottle and then we take a bath together and she lets me breastfeed while she reads me a story. Then we listen to music together and I doze off around 8:00 PM. She tells me, “Shhh, shhhh, shhhh, go to sleep now Ms. Story. Sleep makes you feel good. You are going to feel so fresh and happy when you wake up in the morning for another day full of adventures.”

I take two naps for about 1.5 hours. Sometimes longer. Mom or Dad lays me down around 10:00 AM and then again at 2:00 PM. Unless there is the World Cup or a boating trip or something else more exciting going on. Then I get to sleep on Daddy’s shoulder or in my stroller. Or in my favorite spot, inside the Ergo baby. Here I can hear my Mommy’s heartbeat and she rubs my toes and kisses the top of my head and whispers sweet things in my ear.

Today she whispered, “Happy Birthday little Story. Mommy and Daddy are so proud of you. We love you so much. You are going to have a very special day.”

And she was right. Today I woke up and went for a walk on the beach with Mommy, took a nap, watched the world cup with Dad, ate peas, took another nap, opened gifts from the big party, ate green beans with Papa and Ina and spent an hour in the jumpy. Mommy took a bath with me and made up a different voice for everyone of my new bath tub squirters. So the Nederlands lost the World Cup. It was still a good day. And every day I spend with Mommy and Daddy is special.

So, Happy Birthday to me on this very special day! And go Nederlands!

Love - Story Brynne

Happy First Four Months Story!

2010-06-03T20:17:00.005-07:00

Dear Ms. Story:

Today you are FOUR MONTHS! I simply can’t believe how quickly you are developing. It kinda blows my mind that four months ago you looked like this:

And now you look like this:

You have changed so much Ms. Story. I remember when daddy and I first laid you down in your play gym. You looked like a little peanut. All you could do was stare, your little arms unable to reach the dangling monkey and lion. Now you easily reach for Mr. Monkey and Mr. Elephant, grab onto them both and shake the gym with your mighty fists.

You seem to have discovered the little mirror in the gym and I catch you flirting with yourself frequently. You smile and coo and bat your eyelashes as if to say, look at me Mommy, I’m so funny. I park you in the gym so I can make your Daddy dinner and you follow me with your eyes, waiting for me to begin something complicated before you scream with the force of a police siren. It seems you have learned that a particular pitch of scream will get you just about anything you want.

SWF, HWP: According to the highly accurate method of weighing mommy without you in her hands and then weighing mommy with you in her hands, you weigh 16 pounds. And you are 25.5 inches long. But I measured you yesterday, so you could be 17 pounds now and 26.5 inches long. If you keep up this rate of growth, you are going to have your own reality TV show on TLC. You already wear clothes made for a six month old. I scramble to get you in all the pretty little outfits that people have bought for you before you outgrow them.

The Poop Report: Poor Ms. Story – you only poop when I feed you 2 oz. of prune juice and water mixed together in a bottle. You get one bottle a day and you still go three to four days with nothing to report. So two days ago, Daddy and I decided to feed you your first taste of rice cereal. You were skeptical at first, but then you loved it! Last night, after Mommy fed you for your ususal nightly feeding, you ate an additional 3 oz. of rice cereal mixed with mommy’s milk. That’s a lot of food. And it wasn’t even enough to hold you through the night! You woke up at 4:00 AM, ravenous. Which brings me to your latest little issue.

Sleep Stats: How is it possible that a baby goes from sleeping 8-10 hours a night, back to waking up every 4-5 hours to eat? What happened here? Me and the other detective working the baby mystery desk, started with the theory that it was the swaddle.

While you have been swaddled since birth, lately we can’t seem to keep you restrained. Wouldn’t you know, you are just about the strongest little three month old in the world?! We put you to bed at 10:30 PM , but by 4:00 AM you have squirmed your way out of our little velcro straight jacket. Dad wrestles with you while you whine, until he has you tied up like a little Christmas package. Just as his head hits the pillow, we hear the rip of velcro, followed by massive tears and screams that should only be appropriate if having your leg amputated in the ER. Oh the fight goes on, and on, an on, throughout the night until you are so exhausted that you sleep. Swaddled or not.

I try to convince Daddy to just let me feed you, but he is very stubborn. You see, I theorize that you are just growing (very quickly) and mommy may not be making enough milk for you these days. While I slowly build up my supply, you are hungry more often and I just can’t seem to get you satiated without two feeding a night. Don’t worry Story, I will get there.

Walkie-Talkie: Perhaps the most exciting thing to report this week is this little sound you make with your mouth. It sounds like the one my mom would make in the mirror after she had applied a fresh coat of lipstick. A little popping noise with your lips is now your favorite trick and I can actually get you to do it if I go first. It’s so amazing. I just love watching you learn new things.

Speaking of learning new things, in the tub the other night you actually stood unassisted for about 1.2 seconds before you grabbed my legs to steady yourself. Yep, Ms. Story you can hold herself up. And it’s so incredible. You are so strong and so determined to walk. It’s absolutely fascinating to watch you kick your legs out in front of you while Daddy and I are holding your little hands. I just hope you are happy with standing for about another year, because I’m not ready to have you walking yet.

Hand-eye coordination: These days, you know what you want and you grab it. Usually, it is the hair on Mommy’s head, or the hair on Daddy’s chest. You love to make us scream. You can grab your binky out of my hand, you can use the rattle to hit the dolls on your gym, and you have recently discovered the crinkly noise when you grab Mr. Lions feet. Right now, your favorite toy is the colorful little toy in the video below. You love to put it in your mouth and I never thought I'd be so happy to see you suck on something other than my boob.

Oh Story - four months have passed so very quickly and the next four will pass even quicker. I want to be present for every milestone moment, and not lost in my head with moving details or career ambitions. To unwind, last night, you, me and Daddy went to the park and had an evening picnic. We took off our shoes and felt the green grass under our toes. We laid out a red and pink blanket and ate a big salad, pork loin and brown rice. Daddy and I drank water out of a metal thermos and Mommy breastfed you under a tangerine twilight sky. The next chapter of our life will be starting soon - but I just want to linger in this day a little longer and be grateful for all the happiness in my life in this very hour. You, Daddy, me, the city, the warm air, the sunshine, our loving friends, our health, our family.

Just when I think my love for you has reached its capacity, you expand my heart. I love you sweet girl.

Mom

Happy June!

2010-06-01T17:28:00.000-07:00

Nursing Gear Essentials

2010-05-31T09:36:00.003-07:00

Before the baby was born, I stockpiled baby gear, diapers, and rash ointment, froze food and bought enough canned goods and bottled water to get us through the first six weeks of a natural disaster. My registry essentials purchased, nursery assembled and refrigerator full, I was ready. But when I got home from the hospital with my precious newborn baby, we had everything we needed for her first few tender weeks and nothing that I needed. Like most first time breastfeeders, I had forgotten about what I would need to make those first few weeks comfortable. Whether you plan to breastfeed for one week or one year, you will need some basics. Where will you sit when you wake up in the middle of the night with your little baby? And what will you have within arms length to make all those early breastfeeding sessions go as smoothly as possible?

A Nursing Station: The first thing I did when I got back from the hospital was set up a comfy chair in the bedroom and surround it with things that brought me comfort. I had an ottoman to rest my legs, a throw blanket for my cold toes, a side table to rest my water and a rolling set of drawers for all my electronics, breastfeeding gear and burp rags. My husband lined the floor under my chair with an extension cord and power strip for all my electronics (laptop, iPod, phone, camera battery). I put the pump and a small trash can under the side table. The final touch was a pretty floral arrangement.

I know it seems decadent – but I spent about twelve hours a day in that chair for the first week of my baby’s life and I still appreciate every single convenience. The only thing missing is a small refrigerator for my freshly expressed milk. I settled for ice packs in a small cooler.

Nursing Clothes: I washed my daughter’s clothes and folded them into her dresser so they would be ready when she arrived home. But I completely missed the chance to organize my closet with all the button down shirts at the front. In fact, unless I planned to walk around the house naked for the first month of my child’s life, I needed some serious nursing gear. Let’s start with nursing pajamas, since you are in your lounge gear for the first week. The best I found, for the lowest price are at Old Navy.

This little set makes a great gift for only $32.50. And it comes with the most adorable little matching baby sleeper and hat. Old Navy also has two styles of nursing tops that I bought up by the dozen and wear daily.

I have four of these in white and five in black, don't tell my husband. But at only $14.50, they are way cheaper then all the other styles on the market.

This one is $19.50, and the added pop of seductive stripe clearly makes it more valuable. I tried several more expensive nursing tops that I bought from the Solution for Women store at Penn, but I returned them promptly. Most of what is out there is overpriced and preys on the desperation of a new breastfeeding mom just eager to find some comfort.

This $16.50 tank from Old Navy is similar to the $50 Glamour Mama bra, but the Old Navy was softer and offered me better support. I wore this tank to bed at night with a soft pair of drawstring pajama bottoms.

Also an essential if you are nursing is a good nursing bra. I tried them ALL! Literally. I went to the Solutions for Women store at Penn and I tried on every style bra in stock. My issue was that my breasts were ginormous and causing me severe back ache. I needed an underwire, even if they tried to convince me it would inhibit my milk production. Well, my baby is a little fatty and I’ve been wearing this Medela Underwire Seamless Bra since week 1. I maintained my chest measurement and went up a cup size. I highly recommend that you get fit for your nursing bra if you intend to nurse for a long time. I also recommend you get a night bra. I bought the Medela Womens Sleep Nursing Bra. When I saw it, I laughed at the idea of this little thing holding in my mama-jamas – but for the purposes of keeping everything in its place at night it was actually completely awesome. I wish I could wear it all the time, it’s that comfy.

Nursing Cover: I started with the L'ovedbaby 4-in-1 Nursing Shawl and then I bought the Belly Fish. Ehh. The cool factor of the grey suede on the L'ovedbaby is diminished by the fact I can’t see my baby while she nurses. My baby squirms under the hot fabric. But it does slide easily into my diaper bag and offers great coverage. The Belly Fish was great in theory but a mess to use. It's big and bulky, invites stares and offers poor coverage. I am still in search of the right cover, and have ordered the Balboa Baby Nursing Cover. Until it arrives, I find that two thin blankets work just as well as any of these covers.

Nipple Care: I went through a tube of lanolin before I even left the hospital. My poor cracked, blistering, bloddy nipples needed lots of TLC. It was cold in my apartment and the lanolin was hard to get out of the bottle – so I ordered some Bella B Nipple Nurture Butter and this fantastic cream smells good and provides a much more nurturing experience for my nipples.

Also from this line are a product I’ve come to appreciate even more, Bella B Nipple Nurture Cleansing Pads. I use one of these suckers after every feed. Not only does it feel good, but helps avoid things like thrush. It also means I don’t have to go into the bathroom after every feed and wash my nipples. Anything I can do to limit the amount of movement is a good thing.

Don't even think about getting through the first month without a handful of Medela Tender Care HydroGel Pads. These cooling pads of joy have offered countless nights of relief and are well worth the cost. Buy in bulk because each pad is only good for 72 hours. It's like an ice-pack for the nipple.

This list of basic new mom essentials made my first few weeks a lot easier and more comfortable. Those last few days of pregnancy, when everything is ready for baby and you are just waiting for her arrival, take some time to prepare the house for you. Make sure those first few days and weeks are comfortable for everyone.

Look out LA, here I come!

2010-05-24T13:05:00.002-07:00

Dear Mom, I can't wait to get to LA! I hear the weather is hot but not sticky hot. And I don't really like the sticky part. I'm so excited I could just pee myself. 27 days!!

xoxo Story

P.S. Like my hat?

My Breastfeeding Story

2010-05-22T20:49:00.004-07:00

I didn’t know how much I wanted to breastfeed until the Doctor told me I might have to stop. Little Story was screaming when I tried to give her my breast and the Doctor suggested my breast milk might be the culprit.

“Let’s start with taking the dairy out of your diet and see if she gets any better. Come back in two weeks and then maybe we can try giving her some formula.”

I didn’t know until I left the office and the tears started flowing, how upsetting this concept made me. When did I become one of those moms?

Breastfeeding is a personal choice that every new mom must make. There is no right choice and no wrong choice, it's what is best for you. Before the baby was born, I decided I would try it. While I was offered many opinions from friends and family, they had very little influence over my decision. I wanted to try it. And since I knew it was going to be tough, I challenged myself to make it three months.

It wasn’t until they put the baby in my arms that my desire to learn everything about breastfeeding was born. There was my daughter, all of about four hours old, and I had no idea how to breast feed. Torn between the want to give her comfort and the fear I would suffocate this tiny fragile creature, I listened to the nurse talk about the proper latch as she essentially thrusted the baby onto my nipple. Little Story took it right away, began chewing and suckling like a pro. But then the nurse left the room, Story fell off the nipple, and again, I had no idea what I was doing.

I kangarooed my little Story, her naked skin on mine and I let her take my nipple whenever she wanted it throughout the night. By morning, I was sore and already starting to blister. They sent in a lactation consultant to discuss the proper latch. I didn’t get it. I attended a breastfeeding class the morning after I gave birth. I, in my robe, still hooked up to a heart rate monitor, soaked up every word of the specialist.

It hurt. My entire body ached that first week and I was tired, but I wasn’t going to stop breastfeeding. Little Story was a powerful sucker, she blistered her lips and gulped at the breast. The latch wasn’t always perfect, but she rarely fell off and was clearly eating well. At a breastfeeding group that met Monday’s at the hospital, I listened to the specialist tell every woman with pain, “It shouldn’t hurt. You are probably doing it wrong.” I wanted to clock her. I was doing it right. It just hurts.

By week four, I was tired from lack of sleep and my nipples hurt if someone in the room sneezed. That’s when the free formula started arriving in the mail. Similac, Enfamil, Gerber, Fresh Start, they all tempted me with their powder, but that just made me even more determined. Then something happened. At week six, it stopped hurting. It got easier. It became a well grooved machine. I was over the hurdle. Or so I thought.

The pain subsided, baby was going four hours between feedings and slept eight hours at night. I began thinking I could do this for another three months. Then one morning I woke up dry, baby screaming in hunger as she tried to bring something out of my breast. I took it personal. I had failed. My sister told me to throw my schedule out the window and let the baby feed whenever she wanted for two days. And it worked, the milk came back. I was over the hurdle. Or so I thought.

Baby decided to go on a nursing strike and stopped pooping. Again I wondered, Is it my milk? What’s wrong with me? Am I a bad mother? She would pull away when I put her on my breast and turn purple with high pitched squeals. It would take me an hour just to get her to take a few drops of milk and then as soon as it was down, it came back up in projectile vomit that stained our bed like a fifteen year old boy was sleeping in it. We took her to the doctor. Reflux. They started her on Zantac and the puking stopped. She settled back in at the breast. I was over the hurdle.

Perhaps there is someone out there asking why I continue to breastfeed in the face of so many hurdles. And the answer is I don’t know.

I can’t explain it. It’s a pain in the ass being tied to her feeding schedule. It can be embarrassing whipping my breasts out in public. I never know how much she has eaten and if it will be enough to get her through the night. My breasts leak when I’m having a perfectly adult conversation with a friend in the park. I wear nursing bras and the types of clothes that cover these up and pull down in front for easy access. It’s not cute. It seems like I would be thrilled that the Doctor is suggesting I switch the baby over to formula, but I’m not.

I can’t stand the thought of ending these special times I have with baby girl. I secretly love that someone needs me. My baby girl follows me with her eyes through a crowded room and calms from a cry the minute I take her in my arms. Nowadays, when she eats, she looks me in the eye and smiles while she suckles. She cups my breast with one hand and squeezes my thumb with the other. She pushes in close to me and we have this private moment. Just her, and me. And in that space, I can protect her from the rest of the world. I can’t explain it. I don’t really understand it. I didn’t even realize how much I enjoyed it. Until I thought I would have to stop.

For now, I’m cutting out the dairy and determined not to stop. I bought a few good books to get me over the next hurdle and I’m blessed to have sisters that call me every day to cheer me on. As my new mom friends navigate the world of breastfeeding, I offer my support. As well as a few tips on gear that makes it easier, post to follow.

Daddy Dressed Me Today.

2010-05-20T13:09:00.001-07:00

I'm not sure what I think about this bonnet.

Happy Birthday Husband!

2010-05-18T09:58:00.001-07:00

Dear Husband:

I know you didn't want me to do anything for your birthday. You said, "No parties and don't spend any money." But how could I let your birthday pass without showing you how much I love you. Without reminding you that you are special. Without doing my best to make you feel appreciated.

So I bought a few special things I knew you wanted.

I invited over two of your most favorite people.

We ordered Five Guys.

I baked a cake.

You opened your first gift from your baby girl.

I think you had a nice birthday. Even though you didn't want anything special.

Baby, you should know by now, I don't let holidays of any kind pass without a fuss. And you are too remarkable not to spoil. Even though we don't have much - we have each other. And this is what families are all about.

Happy 34th Birthday husband. Hope your "do over" was even better than the first.

Me

The Great Condiment Challenge

2010-05-16T20:41:00.000-07:00

In exactly 35 days my family is leaving Philadelphia. Life has been so hectic, I have barely had time to think about the significance of this move. There was the baby’s three month birthday, Mother’s Day, Elizabeth’s bridal shower and my husband’s birthday. And now that I have time to breathe, it hits me. Philadelphia will no longer be our home in exactly 35 days.

I moved here reluctantly. My firm wanted me to work with a Philadelphia based client so I dragged my overnight bag down on the Amtrak. Well now it’s been four years. And in those four years, I’ve grown up so much.

In the last four years I took the time to really get to know some good people, I fell in love, matured professionally, made more money than I ever thought possible, got fired, lost my first mature relationship, started my own company, survived on less money than I ever thought possible, fell back in love, got pregnant, got engaged, had a wedding, found out my husband got into Anderson’s MBA program, nurtured my women friendships, and had a baby. That’s a lot of shit in four years.

At moments, it seems more than I can process. These are the times when I focus my energy on the logistics of the move. Instead of thinking about the women that held my hand on my wedding day and my baby after she was born, I’ve taped off the living room to present the measurements of the Penske rental truck. Instead of walking down all the alleyways filled with memories of stolen kisses and clacking high heels, I’ve ordered padded boxes for my mirrors. Instead of being present in all the AA meetings that got me though the highs and lows over the past four years, I’ve made 'to do' lists. It just seems easier to linger on the things I can control.

It seems like every time I move, I painfully shed a little more weight from my past. I trim down my furniture, I clean out my files, I send bags of clothes and memories to the Goodwill. But after ten moves in the past ten years, I’ve whittled down my belongings to the essential and the 'too meaningful with which to part'. How much more weight from my past am I ready to shed? And where do I even begin?

My husband looked around the house and said, “Let’s just throw it all away and start fresh.”

I held back tears and reminded him, “These are MY things. I know they don’t mean much to you, but I’ve been collecting them for years and they are special to ME. I’ve already thrown away so much of it since we met.” He sighed and rolled his eyes.

"You can start with the fridge!" He said.

I opened the fridge and stared at all the condiments we had collected. My husband leaned in closely, “I’m not moving anything that requires refrigeration.”

He stepped out of the kitchen and I remained behind to stare at the jelly's that my husband and I bought at a farm while visiting my Aunt and Uncle in the Berks, fish Sauce for that time we tried to replicate the soup from David Mae Law Wah’s, six kinds of dipping sauce that we bought for the nuggets we served at my husbands 32nd birthday party.

“Use it or lose it,” he called from the bedroom.

I hate to waste things. So the condiment challenge begins. My family is leaving Philadelphia in exactly 35 days. How many bottles can I empty before we depart? And does anyone have any recipes for horseradish jelly?

Mommy’s First Mother’s Day

2010-05-09T10:14:00.000-07:00

Dear Story,

This morning you woke up at 7:00 AM and I held you until 10:00 AM, kissing your forehead, stroking your super soft skin and smelling your lovely baby smell. Daddy made me coffee and toast for breakfast and served it to me in bed.

When I got out of the shower, I found the card you left for me. It was so sweet, thank you so much little lady. I loved the glitter and your sweet words. I told Daddy that I found your card and he said, “I told her to wait until brunch to give it to you, but she was too excited.”

I dressed you in a pretty new blue dress that you got from Mimi and we all went to a fancy brunch at Daddy’s work. All of Daddy’s friends came by to say hello. You smiled at everyone and let Mommy make it all the way through brunch without fussing a bit. Thank you sweetness.

After brunch, we all hopped in a taxi and went to The Ritz to watch the movie Babies. Thank goodness you are so cute, because it turns out that they don’t allow babies at the Ritz but they made a special exception just for you.

“If she cries, you gotta get her out of there,” said the manager.

You were fast asleep in the stroller when the movie started and I was so sure you were going to wake up. It was so loud.

“At least there wont be any crashes or explosions in this movie,” your Daddy said.

You made it about thirty minutes before you woke up. I got you out of that stroller so fast and started feeding you right there in the theater. That kept you quiet for a little bit, but you really weren’t digging on all that noise and especially the scenes where there were lots of babies crying. You joined right in and my blood pressure went way up.

Daddy took you out of the theater when you started crying. “It’s not like I’m going to miss something essential to the plot line,” he said. He was right, of course. So Daddy and took turns standing at the back of the theater bouncing you while we watched the utterly delightful movie. I think that might be the last movie we watch in a theater for a long while.

It just so happens that the movie theater is right across the street from where Daddy and Mommy had their wedding reception. So we took you over to see where we had our first dance as a married couple and get some dessert. You lounged on the white sofas and made sweet cooing noises that melted the hearts of both me and your Daddy. Dessert was free since Daddy’s friend was working. And everyone wanted to hold you and pinch your cheeks.

When we got home that night, Daddy tried to convince you that you could wear your underwear on your head as a beret. He carried you around the room, speaking in a French accent about baguettes and croissants.

We took a bath together and you went right to bed. After I turned out the light and kissed you on the forehead, I stared at you in the bed until you fell asleep. Oh how you have filled my life and my heart with an overabundance of joy in the very short time I’ve known you. Before you, Mother’s Day was just a reason to send another greeting card. But now, it means something. Just like you.

All my love, xoxoxoxo - Mom

I thought it would be boring.

2010-04-29T19:24:00.004-07:00

I’ve always enjoyed children, but I never really wanted one of my own. I was sure that I would find the diaper changing, burping, bathing, dressing and staring to be, well, tedious. Certain my brain would turn to mush, I was silently pleased when the doctor told me that I would be unable to be a mother. I dreamt of a lush life of party dresses, boyfriends, career climbing and girls-nights-out. But then, she came along.

Being pregnant was easy for me. I loved the extra attention I got from my husband and strangers. I was comfortable with the changes in my body. What I feared, was the end of the pregnancy, the moment they would plop that slippery infant on my chest. The fear started escalating as my due date approached, so I simply pushed it down and hoped that everything would change when I saw her for the first time.

It wasn’t until the nurse told me it was time to start pushing that the reality sank in. I turned to my husband, “Oh my God. We are going to have a baby.” I started crying. I’m sure the nurse thought the tears streaming uncontrollably down my face were a sign of happiness, but my husband knew better. I squeezed his hand until his fingers turned purple. “Oh my God. We are going to have a baby.”

Gabe and I stared at one another, our last exchange as carefree newlyweds. Oh my God. My life is about to change. My world is about to crumble. It’s no longer just about me. It’s no longer just about us. I’m about to be tied to a little person for the rest of my life. Oh God, I’m not ready. Make it stop. I changed my mind. I don’t want to be a parent. I don’t want to lose my freedom. I don’t want to grow up. Oh my God. My life is about to change.

My husband looked down and saw the top of our baby girls head.

“No, “ I said, shaking my head back and forth, paralyzed with fear. But my body pushed against my will and our baby girl emerged. I lay back, exhausted, dazed and confused. Then the nurse pulled back my paper nightgown and dropped this slimy, wiggly body down on my chest. Oh God. What am I supposed to do with this? The little creature nuzzled into my chest and pulled her head up to look at me as if she was curious to finally meet the owner of this body she had been occupying for the last nine months. She blinked her bright blue eyes, kicked her tiny legs and pressed her body into mine for warmth and protection. I looked down at her and saw my heart beating on the outside of my body. And everything changed.

This little soft bundle of love in my arms needed me to love her, protect her and teach her about the world. From that very first moment, I was amazed with every little detail of her growth and development. I loved to chart her every changing reaction to my touch or the sound of my voice. From the moment she latched to my breast, every ounce she gained became an accomplishment. If she sighed in a new way, I made a note of it to tell my husband. Every little first became a milestone that I couldn’t wait to report to my friends and family. Suddenly, I found myself rushing out of bed in the morning to hear her coo with a new tone. I started skipping stairs to get back to her after a meeting, afraid I might miss a smile. I was at the grocery store, picking out tomatoes and got a rush of joy when I thought, I am Story's mom. I can stare at my baby girl for a complete hour and find every moment mesmerizing.

I thought I would be bored. I thought this life would never suit me. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Tuesday's Photo Op

2010-04-27T12:55:00.000-07:00

Weekly Update, by Story Brynne Hesson

2010-04-25T21:38:00.007-07:00

Hi friends, Story here! My mom has been in bed for the last week with a bad back, so I decided to write this week’s update and get you up to speed on my progress. For starters, I'm now ten weeks old! But don’t tell my mommy that because she gets very confused and always tells people I’m a different age than I actually am. When I was only nine weeks old, she told someone I was eleven weeks old and then twenty minutes later she told someone else that I was six weeks old. So I’m here to clear things up and answer your most important questions.

EATING: I really like to eat. My favorite activities are to eat, to spit up, to play in my baby gym, and to watch my birdy mobile. In that order. My favorite thing to eat is Mommy's milk. My second favorite thing is Vitamin D drops. And my third favorite is infant Tylenol. I like the pink stuff.

WEIGHT: Mommy weighed me this morning and I’m fourteen pounds. “Fourteen pounds!” Mommy said to Daddy. And then she threw me up in the air and I spit up three times. Once on her face, once on her chest and once down her back and in her hair. I love the way my mommy smells.

THE POOP REPORT: I’ve pooped three times since the H&M incident. Once, on my mom’s friend Caroline. Mom had to pay for her drycleaning. Once, when mom had her friend Elizabeth over, up my back, through two layers of clothing and all over my swing! And once when mom was taking my temperature. That last one was the most disgusting. I squirted all over the bathroom rug and got some in mommy’s hair. Whenever I poop she gets really excited and calls daddy to tell him all about it. She says, “Good job, Story.” If I even grunt a little bit, mom smiles. So I grunt a lot. Sometimes I grunt really hard and turn red just to make mommy pick me up and take me to the changing table. She gets pretty disappointed when she opens my diaper and there is nothing in it. It’s so funny.

BED: Mom and dad have me on a schedule now. I eat at 10AM, 2PM , 6PM, 10PM and again at 11PM. At 10PM, I get a bath. I just love the bath. Daddy holds me and mommy pours water over my head. After the bath, I eat again and then mommy and daddy turn off all the lights in the bedroom but one. Mommy holds me while daddy reads from Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein. Then daddy and I play the most fun game. Daddy wraps me up super tight and I have to try and get unwrapped as quick as possible. Then daddy wraps me up again even tighter and I have to try and break free again. Sometimes it takes me a few hours, but I always break free. I only wake up once at night now, usually at 6:00 AM. When I wake up, I’m so hungry. Daddy is very quiet when he slides me into the bed next to mommy. Mommy doesn’t speak to me while she feeds me, but she runs her fingernails over my head and I try very hard to stay awake so I can eat as much as possible.

This week, with mommy in bed all the time, daddy and I have been spending a lot more time together. Dad lays me on his lap and we listen to all kinds of music. Sometimes dad just sings me funny songs and makes funny faces. He especially likes to talk to me in funny voices. My favorite is when he pretends he is Shrek. My second favorite is when he sings the Hallelujah song like Count Dracula. Mom hates this and groans really loud whenever he does it.

Daddy’s skin is furry and he smells like tooth paste. When he holds me, I feel safe. He lays me down in the bed so very gently, he rubs his scruffy face on my forehead and gives me a kiss saying, “Goodnight sweet Story. Daddy loves you. May you grow up to be brave and honest and kind.” This makes me very happy.

That’s all the news for this week. I hope mommy is better soon so she can get back to telling you all my stories. Happy Monday!

Xoxo,

Story

Breaking News... baby sleeps through night...

2010-04-22T12:57:00.000-07:00

Ideeli Now Carries Baby Brands

2010-04-12T10:22:00.009-07:00

Ever wonder how those people over at Ebay are able to carry top designer brand merchandise at such cheap prices?

They shop at discount stores like TJ Max, Loehmanns, Feilenes Basement and at outlet stores like The Rack and Baby Gap Outlet. They show great patience for the hunt, sifting through barrels of discount clothing to get the best deals to mark up for profit. As a new mother, I sadly don't have time for the bargain barrels anymore. But I still want a good deal and find Ebay a tangled maze that involves a very good idea of exactly what I want. That's why I am such a fan on-line flash sales given by reputable companies like Ideeli, Gilt Group and Billion Dollar Babes. I already know that these sites carry the brands I like and I know they will give me the sort of deal that I don't have to dig for.

I've used these services for years to buy my rare print dresses or European heels. But after I had a baby, I stopped buying clothes for myself that don't zip down the front or hold up to half-a-gallon of spit up. And I started noticing baby items in my favorite flash sales line-up.

Which brings me to my exciting news of the day. Ideeli has started carrying baby brands and is having a flash sale today on three baby dud designers that have been previously out of my budget.

Mini-Muffin is a New York brand that makes super soft infant clothes. They are right on the latest infant trend, as they offer a meaty selection of luxe cotton top and bloomer sets. Originally $38, but $19 at ideeli.

Creative and inspired infant boys clothes are hard to find, but check out these pieces.

Mini-Muffin Blue Coverall, normally $42 but only $18 at ideeli.

These adorable "short"alls are $42 at Neiman Marcus, but only $22 at ideeli.

And my favorite little outfit of all is this cute jean skirt and soft polka dot top. Originally $42, this number is now $21.

I'm a sucker for little details, fun prints and mixed patterns and textures. Think they make this in my size?

Ideeli also carries great labels for women, combining LA and NY designers to give you a good selection of hip mom gear. Sadly, not enough zippers and button down tops for this fashionista, but the baby gear is always on my radar. I'll keep you posted next time they get something good up on their site. In the meanwhile, check out their latest collection from Mini Muffin, LG and Baby Steps.

Like My New Shoes?

2010-04-11T11:22:00.000-07:00

Friday's Photo

2010-04-09T20:17:00.000-07:00

Weekly Update

2010-04-08T18:43:00.001-07:00

Dear Story,

Today you are eight weeks old and I’m still amazed at how much you have grown since we first took you home from the hospital on that snow covered Philly afternoon. All the books tell me that eight weeks is an important turning point. They say that this is when you begin to smile and play more during the day and sleep more during the night.

Let’s take a look at how you measure up, shall we? This week…

WEIGHT: Mom was both delighted and distressed to discover you now weigh 12 lbs. and 7.5 oz. Delighted, because it puts you in the 87.7th percentile and means I’m feeding you well. Distressed, because girl, you are getting heavy! And not the kind of heavy to which the singers from the seventies refer. I mean heavy, like the last time I worked out I was only using ten pound weights and you already weigh more than that and i can tell! Since your Mommy hasn’t worked out since she was 32, this is an extreme jump and leads to a lot of arm and back cramps with no hunky trainer rubbing them out at the end of the workout. Mom is out of shape and thinks the lifting of M&M's into her mouth are not going to help her work up the strength needed to carry you around as you continue your record growth.

HEIGHT: After the doctor announced that you are 24 ¾ inches and greater than the 97th percentile for your height, she asked me, “How tall are you?”

I told her, “5 foot, 2 inches."

“How about your husband?” She inquired. And this is where I got a little Mommy brainitis.

"5’8”, no six foot, oh gosh, 5’11? That can't be right." The entire experience reminded me of when I cheated on my Health badge in Girl Scouts by making up a three month chart of my fluctuating weight and height, all in one night. The Girl Scout troop leader informed me that people don’t normally get taller and then shorter on a daily frequency.

You doctor just looked at me a little confused before shaking my head and informing me, “She is going to be taller than you."

Okay. Well that’s not hard, I’m pretty short. But I think she was trying to say you were going to be tall. The thought of you growing up and sprouting like a beanstalk under my nose made me imagine you as a gangly teenage girl, forcing the enormity of motherhood to wash over me and warm my heart.

HEAD: Your head has a circumference of 15 inches, and that is in the 16.7 percentile for head circumference. I have to admit, I find this a little disappointing. Your Mother and Father have very big heads and I was hoping that you would as well. And well, your Grandpa Wiese has the biggest head of all and I was sort of hoping you might get a little bit of Wiese in you somewhere. But I guess it’s not a bad thing to not have a big head. We will have to settle for a humble little lady.

BOWELS: After unloading an assplosion of mythic proportion in H&M, you didn't poop at all for the last six days. The doc says this is perfectly normal - but I must admit it makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong. Every time I hear a little toot or smell a sour stank, I get all excited and rush to the changing table - only to discover a lackluster wet diaper. The doc points to your weight and says it is nothing to worry about. But you know your Mommy, always striving for perfection, I am drinking eighteen glasses of water a day and have added a lot more fiber to my diet this week.

SKIN: We go to see one of those pediatrician offices with rotating doctors and this week your latest doctor thinks your rash is just baby acne that will clear up by three months old. I pointed out that it was already clearing up in the areas it first appeared, which makes it much more likely to be a viral rash. Whatever. This doctor thinks it will clear up by the end of the month and that otherwise your skin looks pink, healthy and totally normal. I am just glad that she didn’t see all the little bite marks from where your Daddy and I try to eat you while we say, “Nom, nom, nom, nom, nom."

SLEEP: Dadddy and I started implementing our first efforts at sleep training this week. I swear we have been gentle. Especially Mommy, who breaks the rules all the time – even though it really pisses Daddy off! Your Father and I began by reading Twelve Hours' Sleep by Twelve Weeks Old. Since you were already letting four hours go by between feedings, you were ready for the next step. We chose a twelve hour period of time, 10PM to 10AM and that is supposed to be your night time. I know, I know, it’s late, but we are late night people and when we move to Los Angeles the time zone shift will make you much more normal. So we feed you now at 10AM, 2PM, 6PM and 10PM. At night, we let you eat whenever you want – which is currently at exactly 2AM and 6AM. But the book has a few tricks to eliminate these feedings. I’m not quite ready to introduce the new tricks yet. In fact, I was reluctant on the whole thing, but it has been nice to plan a life around your eating schedule. And unfortunately, your doctor confirmed the facts in the book and made a strong case for making sure you eat every four hours during the day. Even if it means waking you from a nap. Dad is constantly catching me cheating on the schedule. When he does, he sighs heavily, lowers his head and says, “We don’t have to do this you know.” And I insist I will try harder. I’ll keep you posted on this.

VACCINES: At your doctor visit today, you got your two-month vaccines in the form of two shots in each thigh and some drops in your mouth. You loved the drops and didn’t even cry on the first two needles. But the third needle made you frown and your lower lip quiver. And the fourth! Oh the fourth! The fourth made you scream and look at Mommy for the first time with real pain in your eyes. It felt like you were saying, Why Mommy, why? And it broke my heart. But then you stopped crying and fell asleep in your stroller. Mom spent the rest of the night babying you and Daddy came home from work early. We let you sleep in the bed like a real princess because we both want to make sure you know how much we love you.

AUDIO: Another big reward of the week is the increasing amount of time you use your emerging voice to melt me and your Dad. You hum when you eat, you coo when we change your diaper, and you make all sorts of happy little noises when you are playing in your baby gym. You look at Mr. Monkey and make a high pitched coo and pull the bright string that makes his tail rattle. Then you flash a smile at me and Daddy and you make a different sound. Sometimes when you cry, I think it sounds a bit like maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaammmmy. Which is very close to Mommy and a sign that you are getting closer and closer to saying it.

Of course, the very best part of the week is that I can tell how much you trust me. You push your body into me when I hold you. You hold my hand when the nurse comes near because you know I will protect you. You stop crying when you hear my voice. You don’t worry that I will drop you when we are in the tub. You don’t wince when I cut your fingernails. I know it won’t last forever and one day I will cut too close to your little fingers and make you cry or turn my back when you are in the bath and let you slip under for a moment. But for right now, I make you feel safe. And you may be the only person I’ve ever known whom I have yet to disappoint.

This trust is something I treasure with all my heart and fills my soul with a sense of importance and responsibility like nothing that ever came before it. Mommy is right here Story, she loves you very much and will try her hardest to take care of you.

For as long as you will let me.

Xoxo - Mom

Oobi Baby! at Billion Dollar Babes

2010-04-07T09:13:00.007-07:00

Lately, I have been spending way too much time on the internet, filling carts with items I will never buy. One place I frequent often is Billion Dollar Babes. They mostly sell trendy adult lines, but from time-to-time they sell something for babies or children. The savings are usually so fantastic, that I feel compelled to pass along the information. And today they are featuring the most adorable line of baby bloomers and Parisian inspired party dresses.

(Normally $60, but only $30 at BDB.)

It's been hot in Philly and my little Story sleeps in her diaper to stay comfortable in the 85 degree heat. Of course, she would be just as cool and much sweeter in a pair of these bloomers. Normally $30, they are only $15 and I want to buy them in the dozen.

These items currently grace my shopping cart at Billion Dollar Babes. But like most these sales, I look, I coo, I share, I fill my cart and imagine my little Story crawling across the floor in them. And then I look at my bank account and realize that no matter what a great deal or how lovely - I simply can't afford it.

So I'd like to live vicariously through you! Check out the awesomeness of Oobi Baby! at Billion Dollar Babes today and then tell me what you bought!

A Picture Perfect Easter

2010-04-04T20:30:00.001-07:00

A Story About Poop

2010-04-03T11:10:00.000-07:00

I swore it wouldn’t happen to me. I would never write about poop. So let’s just get this out of the way. This is a story about poop.

There I am in the checkout line at H&M on a gorgeous spring day. My little baby girl is wearing a spring romper and a pretty pink hat that makes her look like a tiny little cupcake that you want to eat immediately. I’m feeling fresh, wearing my first dress of the spring, my hair down around my face. I've a few cute infant onesies hanging from my stroller, and little baby girl starts grunting, I reach down and tickle her belly, her grunts turn to tears and her tears begin to crescendo into a deafening wail. My face beginning to pinken with embarrassment, I decide to bend over and pick her up. After all, I’m anxious to show off her cute spring outfit and impress the line with my highly nuanced mothering skills.

“There, there, little precious monkey. It’s okay.”

The man in front of me widens his eyes in horror. I catch his eye and he looks away, slapping his friend on the arm and gesturing towards me. His friend looks over and gives me the up and down, smiling. But then he stops at my arm and the smile fades and the eyes widen and the friend smirks as if to say, I told you it was worth a look. And that is when I realize that they are staring at a gob of yellow poop sliding out the leg of my little girls romper, down my arm and onto the floor of H&M on 18th and Walnut.

“Oh my God,” I exclaim to the crowd, only drawing more attention to the now wailing baby dripping with poop. “Oh my God.”

I stand in the line for a moment having no idea what to do. With one poopy arm wrapped around my child, I realize I can not put her back down in the stroller. So I take the second poopy arm, stained baby turd yellow, and I push the cart towards the back of the store.

This is when baby girl decides to kick up the screams and add some thrashing to challenge my already fragile one armed grip.

“Do you have a bathroom or a place I can change my baby,” I say to the nearest store employee. “It’s an emergency.”

The store clerk looks down at my arm and shakes his head in a ‘no’ motion. “Sorry, we don’t have a bathroom.”

I just stand there. Panicked.

“But you can use a fitting room,” He offers.

I lunge towards the fitting room, anxious to calm my poor screaming angel, and then he puts his foot out in front of me. “How many items do you have?”

I can barely hear him over her now piercing shrieks. She is doing one of those cries where her face turns purple and her mouth opens so wide that I can see her throat vibrating. With each sream she kicks her legs and more poop drips out onto the floor.

“I don’t know, just take it.” I say, gesturing to the items hanging from my cart.

“Because you can only bring in four items,” he says.

“Just take it. Take it all.” I say.

He removes the items from the cart and I push baby girl into the tiny fitting room. Now comes the dilemma. I have a dirty baby in one arm and the diaper bag is tucked under the seat of the stroller and needs two hands to be pulled out. In fact, I need to remove the car seat from the frame to remove the bag, and until I remove the bag I have nowhere to put my little angel. Shit.

Literally.

I place her back in her stroller, soiling her favorite blanket. Then I frantically remove the seat, get out the diaper bag, remove the changing pad and lay it on the floor, take her back out of the now poopy stroller and lay her on the changing pad. With my left hand lifting her legs, I use my right to open her diaper. The contents pour out onto the changing pad. I vomit a little in my mouth. I reach my dirty hand back into the diaper bag and can’t find the wipeys. My poop covered hand searches every pocket until at last I find them. There is one wipey left.

I grab two burp cloths and wrap the dirty diaper in one. I use the second to clean her up and she lowers her screams an octave. I hear someone in the changing room next to us.

“Jesus, what is that woman doing to that baby? Removing a limb?”

Baby girl pees on the changing pad before I get a chance to slide in the new diaper. I lift my knees so as to avoid the puddle. Too late. I find another burp cloth and wipe up the mess. I slide another diaper under her, close it up and then realize I have nothing to change her into and her romper is a mess. I wrap the dirty burp cloth over her dirty romper and I place her, the burp cloth, and the dirty blanket back into the stroller. She stops crying.

I wipe up the floor with the dirty diaper and then I turn and catch my 360 degree reflection in the mirror. My dress is covered in pee, my hair is disheveled and tangled, my arms, legs and lower right chin are covered in a mustard stained poop. There are no more wipeys.

I hang my head in shame and I leave the fitting room. The clerk is waiting for me outside the door.

“She has quite the lungs, your little one,” he says.

“Thanks.”

He looks at my hand, holding the dirty diaper parcel.

“Want me to take that?”

“It’s kinda gross. Are you sure you want this in your garbage can for the rest of the day?”

He looks at me, a smile playing across his lips.

“It’s okay. We are just about to do a shift change.”

I leave the store, anxious to get home, trying to avoid paths that may contain people I know, vowing never to go back that H&M ever again.

Friday's Photo

2010-04-02T11:53:00.000-07:00

Thursday's Discovery

2010-03-31T23:56:00.003-07:00

Whilst changing my little one today, I looked down and discovered she was actually a boy. Imagine the shock. But then imagine the joy of knowing I get to go out and buy all those cute new boy clothes.

Small Paul at Billion Dollar Babes

2010-03-31T08:30:00.000-07:00

I like cute monkeys. Who doesn't? And perhaps that is why I love Small Paul, the kid line of Paul Frank. It's normally out of my budget, but that is why I stalk Billion Dollar Babes for certain designers. And just my luck, today is Small Paul Sale day at Billion Dollar Babes!!

Here are some of my picks for today:

This adorable onesie normally sells for $27.00, but is only $8.10 at BDB.

I priced this romper at $43.00 just a month ago in a children's boutique, and now it is only $12.90 at BDB. That's kinda awesome.

For the boys...

Sleeper is normally $36.00, but $10.80 at BDB.

And this super adorable PJ set would run you $43.00 at Bloomingdales,but is $12.90 for the next 24 hours at Billion Dollar Babes.

My friend Rachel loves Paul Frank. So you better get over there now and buy it before someone like Rachel snatches it all up!

Lists

2010-03-30T20:57:00.001-07:00

Things I rarely do anymore because they take two free hands:

Write thank you notes
Cook
Take out the trash
Do the wash
Read The Economist
Read a book
Text
Brush my teeth
Wash my face
Get dressed
Fix my hair
Put on cosmetics

Things I can do with one hand:

Write this blog
Check Facebook
Talk on the phone
Read In Touch Weekly
Surf the net
Read with the kindle
Answer the door for the UPS man

Things I have grown to appreciate more since having a baby:

Showers
Silence
Hot food
Prime-time television

Things I miss from before the baby was born:

Pedicures
Baths
Adult conversation
Nights out
AA meetings

Things I thought I would miss but surprisingly, I don't:

Sleep
My modesty

Things I should give up, but can't seem to:

Soft cheese
Movie theaters
Staying up until 2:00 AM

Things I didn't think I would like, but it turns out that I do:

The color Pink
Giving my baby a bath
Finding out my baby has gained weight
Poopy diapers

Things that made me happy (before baby):

A new silk dress from Anthropologie
A table filled with friends and flowing conversation
A hot cup of coffee and the bookstore
Sleeping in till noon on a Sunday morning
Dinner in an amazing restaurant
A fresh pedicure
US magazine
A lengthy massage
Window shopping
The squeeze of my husband's hand
The way heads turn when I walk past a table of men
Biting the skin on the back of my hand
Photos of me and my girlfriends on my MySpace page
Sitting in the park with my baby

Things that make me happy (since baby):

Nursing tanks from Old Navy
A refrigerator full of food
Hot tea and the bookstore
Sleeping on a Sunday morning
Being cooked for
A freshly cleaned baby
Baby and parenting blogs
Giving my baby a rub down after her bath
Shopping online
My baby’s fingers tightly gripping mine
The way Story stops crying when mommy holds her
Rubbing my lips over the peach fuzz on my little baldy's head
Photos of my baby on Facebook
Sitting in the park with my babies

Weekly Update

2010-03-29T09:56:00.002-07:00

Dear Story,

This last week you celebrated the sixth week of your life! It was a week of worry, fear and relief for your Mommy and Daddy. Here are your most notable accomplishments of the week:

After developing a rash on your face, neck and chest, Mom was convinced you had measles and brought you to the doctor who announced that had survived your first cold and now weighed an impressive 11 lbs 5 oz.
You outgrew your newborn diapers and are now in Pamper 1’s!
You also outgrew your newborn clothes and are now into the 3-6 mos. size – which is good, because Mommy has way more cute outfits in 3-6 mos. size.
You slept in the bed with Mommy and Daddy while you were sick and gave us three blissful nights of 6+ hours of sleep until we reluctantly returned you to your own bed.
Mommy discovered that you are only hungry every four to five hours now, giving her much more freedom.
You discovered your smile and used it often.
Dad discovered that we were letting you sleep too much during the day and we need to come up with new ways to entertain you when you are awake.
Mommy discovered that among your current daily activities, staring at the bird mobile is your favorite and tummy time is your least favorite.
It turns out that you love bath time, find it completely relaxing and sleep better on nights that you have it.
Also discovered that spit-up does not ruin the bath water but watery poops do.
Mommy and Daddy left you alone for the first time with two very capable babysitters that made you laugh and smile all night long – and can we tell you a secret? I think they fell madly in love with you.

It seems like every week you become more fun to play with as you develop more facial expressions and increase your already incredible motor control. I watch in wonder as you grow a little more each day, your face rounding out and your little butterball legs wrinkling as the ounces pile on. This week, when you wanted comfort, you wanted Mommy. And there was nothing quite as lovely as the sweet sigh you made when you stopped crying in my arms.

Xoxo - Mom

Date Night

2010-03-27T20:59:00.003-07:00

Dear Story,

Tonight Mommy and Daddy had their very first fancy date night in a very long time. We left you at home with Mommy's friends Rachael and Rusty and you were a complete little angel. Even though it didn't seem like you missed me one bit, I suspect you are just faking it to supress your true feelings. It's alright, I pretended that I didn't miss you too. But I did.

xoxo - Mom

Dunny Love

2010-03-26T20:28:00.000-07:00

I'm in love with the 2010 Dunny Fatale Series from Kidrobot. It speaks to my inner geek warrior princess. What is not to love about a fighter protecting her Joey, a bloody sword and a baby and her binky?

If you know me then you know I love me some Dunny's. But this little collection is close to my heart.

Week Six Starts Today

2010-03-25T18:30:00.001-07:00

It’s here. The six week mark. The books tell me that this is the time you discover if your baby has colic. Perhaps that is why I didn’t think it was odd when Story started the week with intense crying episodes. It started around 7:00 in the evening, the inconsolable wails that turned her face purple. Gabe and I carried out the ritual of patting her belly and shushing in her ear, only picking her up when the wails were high pitched and lasting more than a minute. But something was different. She wasn’t floating back into dream land like usual. She was requiring more than her usual seven visits to the side of her bed. We had been doing so well, each day before requiring fewer visits and less consoling time. Now this sudden resistance. Wham. Like a freight train. After forty unsuccessful up and down visits to her bedside, we caved and just brought her into bed. What was happening?

I was so disappointed with myself. I thought we were finally getting it down and then this, this failure. Over the next few nights we swaddled, we shushed, we bounced, we paced the apartment, we held her close, we propped her up, we bathed her, we even broke out the swing. She would calm for a bit, but then the crescendo of tears would begin, climbing into painful wails that broke my heart with each new octave.

Is this what they call colic? The books try to console you by saying that kids with colic tend to be more curious toddlers. Is that supposed to make me feel better?

Gabe and I had just gotten into a groove. I was starting to wear outfits again, cook with recipes I found on the internet, look for part-time work. And just as quickly as I began to feel relief, the newfound confidence was gone. In its place was the crying, accompanied with projectile spit-up jags that yielded around 2 oz. of wasted breast milk. In one day, she spit up on seven of her outfits and I had to change my shirt five times. I thought the hard part was supposed to be the waking up every four hours to feed – but this was a whole new sort of pain.

When I saw a rash appearing on her face on Sunday, I am embarrassed to admit that I thought, “Great, on top of the constant wailing, she is going to be hideous as well.”

The rash started on her cheeks, but by Wednesday it had spread down to her chest and around her back, up onto her ears. I called the Doctor and she had us come in for a sick visit. She told us she thought the rash was viral. By the time we left the office I could hear her congested breathing. Our poor little lady was getting over a cold. All that crying was pain. All that twitching on the breast was itchiness. My baby was ill. And while I shouldn’t be happy to learn that my baby is sick, I am hopeful that it means she does not have colic.

My relief quickly melted into compassion when I realized Story had been in discomfort these past few nights. My heart broke into a million little pieces on the pavement outside the Doctors office. I was racked with guilt when I thought of her father and I putting her back into her bed forty times. All along, she just wanted to be held and comforted and rocked to a smooth rhythm of, “It’s alright, it’s okay, you are going to be just fine, Mommy is here.”

When I got her home from the doctors, I drew her a vapor bath. Dad gave her a baby massage and I set her up on her boppy in our bed. As if she knew she would be sleeping with us for the night, she positively reinforced our decision by quietly sitting and watching us only letting out an occasional coo. I spent the evening and most of today indulging her every desire. I put away all the training books and pushed all the parenting advice out of my head. I just focused on comforting my baby. And you know what? It felt like freedom.

Today, I fed her when she seemed hungry, I let her sleep and wake as she desired, I held her most the day and let her fall asleep on me several times. I put her in the bed with me for a nap and she is sitting here next to me while I type this blog. All day, she just wanted to be with her mommy. Now that she is eleven pounds, she is a heavy accessory to carry around the house. But for at least the next few days, my baby can have whatever her little heart wants. How nice it was to not worry about the long-term ramifications of my every parental choice. For today, I just have to give this little precious soul what she needs.

Now, we are not out-of-the-woods on the colic. There is still a chance she has it. Dear Lord, please don't let it be colic. But if that is what is meant to be, I have faith that the colic will eventually go away. I'm trying to get my head into a space of acceptance. Whatever happens, I have to believe that there will be some gift in it. After all, in just one week of colic like behavior, Gabe and I have developed a high tolerance for crying and we are now practiced in several proven calming techniques.

I’m learning. And with each one of these parenting challenges I grow stronger and more confident. Only good can come from that. Happy sixth week of life Ms. Story Brynne!

Petit Bateau

2010-03-24T08:49:00.006-07:00

When I woke up this morning, I saw there was a flash sale over at Billion Dollar Babes for one of my very favorite baby brands Petit Bateau. I first fell in love with their little french floral prints when I was shopping in an overpriced baby shop on Rittenhouse Square. They wanted to charge $35.00 for the below romper. Well Billion Dollar Babes has it on sale today for $12.25!! Isn't the little floral pattern exquisite?

My favorite steal is the animal print kimono onesie, normally $19.00but only $6.65 today!!

Get over there and shop!!

Weekly Update

2010-03-21T21:30:00.007-07:00

Dear Ms. Story,

Time for a little update on all your weekly accomplishments.

This week, you rolled over from your belly to your back, causing your parents to squeal with delight.
You smiled. Of course, I still can't confirm if the smile is indicative of joy or just pooping in your pants. I imagine that both possibilities could make one very happy.
This week you slept in your bed. One night, you slept six whole hours in a row. Unfortunately, I couldn't enjoy it because I woke up every 30 minutes to check and see if you were breathing. Even though my breasts ached, I was elated by your accomplishment. But then you wouldn't go back to sleep and broke into a major crying fit that turned your face purple and drew actual liquid from your tender tear ducts.
Daddy and I both learned the value of a vibrating chair swing.
Mommy finally learned to swaddle you and got you to start waiting four hours between meals.
Daddy and I took you on lots of long walks. Sometimes in the stroller and sometimes in the ErgoBaby. You loved the feeling of fresh air, wore your first dress and had your first picnic in the park.
You met lots of new people this week, as your parents slowly emerged from their isolation.
You grew rounder in the face, cuter by the minute and more and more loveable, as if that was even possible.

My little lady, just when I think I have you figured out, you go and switch things up on me. But I'm learning how to keep up with you and I haven't lost my passion for the challenge. I can't wait to see what you do this week!

xoxo - Mom

A Perfect Day (Five Weeks Today)

2010-03-18T20:19:00.000-07:00

We started in the park.

We took you to see where we got married.

We walked to Old City and had lunch in the sun.

You rewarded us with a smile.

Thank you.

Mom

Billion Dollar Babes Gives Free Shipping

2010-03-17T20:32:00.008-07:00

I recently discovered the super soft and modern fashions of rabbit moon. The California based baby and toddler line is currently on sale over at Billion Dollar Babes, and I don't think it will last long.

I mean, who makes clothes for boys this cool?
And can we talk about the below sweet little floral and polka dot blocked onesie that retails at $21, but is selling out fast at BDB for only $9.50? It's super awesome.

I highly suggest you get on over to Billion Dollar Babes now before the collection is gone!

Today I am Seventeen Years Sober!

2010-03-15T15:06:00.002-07:00

Dear Story,

Saturday, I put you in the Ergo carrier for our daily stroll and we walked through the rain storm to visit your Daddy at work. Being so close to St. Patrick’s Day, the city had erupted in shamrock themed parties being staged all over the city and attended by young drunkards wearing green shorts over their leggings, carrying broken umbrellas and sporting leprechaun stickers on their faces. I bobbed and weaved through the streets with my hand over your head to shield you from the uncertainty of what might happen next. I shot a judgment filled dirty look at a group of girls holding up their friend in an alley while she puked. How quickly I’d forgotten where I came from.

After our visit with Daddy, we turned towards home and that’s when I saw that Sansom Street had been cut off from traffic for a rain drenched street party. I could turn on 19th and avoid the chaos, or I could walk through the crowd now huddled under plastic tents and sidewalk awnings, red keg cups in their hands. I rationalized that I was curious and I walked towards the music and the smell of beer and hot dogs. I peered into the plastic tents filled with green shirts and young faces, I smelled the body odors mixing with beer and cigarettes, I listened to the laughter, awkward conversation and bad eighties music and suddenly I was transported through time.

Suddenly, I was seventeen again and it was Friday night before a big football game. I had blue and white paint stripes on my face and was wearing my brothers letterman’s jacket. The party was high on a hill and the rain was soaking my hair, water crawling up the bottom of my jeans. Milli Vanilli sang Blame it on the Rain from a car speaker. The warm buzz from my Miller High Life made me impervious to the damp and cold. I held the golden bottle as if it was a trophy – thinking I was impressing my older girlfriends with my choice of a long neck quality beer. Some of the girls smoked cigarettes and tried to shield them from the drops of rain falling from the tree branches. The bleak Tacoma air could not dampen the feeling of a night full of possibilities. The only light on the hill came from the distant football field, making it difficult to navigate through the forest of people. But that only added to the electricity when the cute boy from Spanish class bumped up against me. His hand brushed against my arm and he gave me a plastic red cup for the keg.

“Those are worth $5.00 you know,” he said with a lopsided smile. I breathed in his scent of chewing tobacco, beer, gym socks and youth.

My friend Kelly nudged me from behind so that I knocked into him again. I giggled, he smiled and I hoped the cops wouldn’t come before I had a chance to kiss him.

When I drank, something exciting always happened.

And then I was back on Sansom Street, watching a young woman with a “Kiss me I’m Irish” t-shirt hanging onto the arm of a very tall and handsome twenty-something. I wondered if she would go home with him tonight and make-out in the lobby of his dorm room. And that is when I had the urge to be inside the party, drinking, letting go of the week, being free, flirting recklessly with a drunken frat boy, chain smoking cigarettes and waiting for an adventure to find me. I took a few steps towards the tent but then I realized that you were still strapped to my belly in the Ergo carrier.

My reverie of high school dances, fraternity parties and drunken adventures ended abruptly. Not because I recalled what comes after the adventure; the vomiting, the dry-mouth, the headache, the cheating, the broken relationships, the lying, the stealing, the poor self-esteem, and the depression. But because I thought of how ridiculous I must look. I’m a mom now. Between me and the next drink is a little bundle of life that depends entirely upon my sensibilities.

I took one last languid glance at the scene, turned and walked away.

Today I celebrate seventeen years of sober living and I am so grateful. I am grateful for you, for your Daddy, for the gifts of recovery and for the woman I’ve become because of these things. I am blessed with a loving and supportive family, real friends, a warm and welcoming home, healthy food on the table every night, a spiritual connection with something greater than me, and a guide to daily living. I've been able to create a purposeful life built on the foundation of service, love and tolerance.

It is my hope that you will never know me as I was before I began to work the twelve steps. I have so many reasons to savor this life, and you are one more.

Thank you,

Mom

Baby's First Bath

2010-03-14T14:38:00.000-07:00

Home

2010-03-13T13:05:00.004-08:00

Dear Story:

Today when I got home from my meeting, you Dad pulled me onto his lap and played this song by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros for me. He said, "I've been listening to this song all morning and I just want to get my hands on you." He bounced me on his knee and squeezed me and rubbed my back and I know I am a total sap, but it made me tear up a little.

Here is why...

The weekend I first met Grandaddy Crawley, he was circulating a short book heralding his recently deceased wife that detailed their life and travels as Baptist missionaries. It was a collection of stories about a reserved man with a deep but unspoken love for his loyal wife. He had silently loved her since the day they met, but when she passed she may not have known all the love he had in his heart for her. He waited for her passing to write down all his most precious memories. Amongst the catalogue of places they lived and challenges they faced, he described vividly what might have been nothing more than mundane moments to his wife Margaret. But to Grandaddy Crawley, these were the moments when he looked upon his wife and his heart swelled with a deep and passionate love. The book was Winston’s love song to Margaret, sung loudly in the words on the page.

“Grandaddy always said that home is where Margaret is,” your father told me that weekend. And your father told me one late Friday night when he rushed in the door after a long night at work, sweeping me into a long hug that brought me onto the tips of my toes. “Home is where you are Ingrid”. He lingered in the hug, I could hear him sniffing my hair and feel him breathing me into his heart.

I called my Mom last night to thank her for her visit and she said she had such a lovely time but was so happy to be home.

“You know that I’ve been taking those flower arranging classes and I hardly thought your father noticed. But before I left, I had made a very special arrangement in the bedroom and it was sadly dying. You know your father Ingrid, well I suspected he would have all the dead flowers out of the house before my plane even left the runway. But when I got home, the strangest thing, the Ichiban arrangement I had left in the bedroom was exactly as I had left it. Well your father had measured each flower and gone out and bought replacement stems and arranged it exactly as I had left it. I guess he had noticed. I guess he missed me. And I have to say Ingrid, I missed him too. I had a wonderful time visiting with my kids, but I couldn’t wait to get home. And home is where your father is. It always has been.”

Then, this morning, out-of-the-blue, your daddy plays me this song. Unfortunately Ms. Story, as Grandaddy reminds us, we wont always have each other. But for now, we have a beautiful home. These little coincidences remind me to be grateful.

xoxo, Mom

The One Month Check Up

2010-03-12T20:40:00.001-08:00

Dear Story,

A visit to your pediatrician today yielded the following observations:

You now weighs in at 9lbs. 13oz. (an amazing leap from your birth weight of 7lbs. 8 oz. and yet more evidence that my breasts are magnificent).
Apparently the cold metal of a hospital scale induces urination.
You are now 22 inches in length, growing two inches in one month (making you almost as tall as me).
Grunting is normal - you are not part wildabeast.
Sleeping in the car seat must stop unless we plan to allow it through Kindergarten.
It's normal for you to spit-up five times in a row at least three times a day (as long as there is no fever).
You are good with shots but bad with band-aid removal.

It's funny how a good visit with the pediatrician can make my entire day. I am so proud that you are eating well and growing strong. While I wish I could keep you small forever, I secretly enjoy fattening you up. Can't wait to see where you weigh in next month!

xoxo,

Mom

Happy Birthday Story (One Month Old Today!)

2010-03-11T11:09:00.006-08:00

Dear Story:

Today makes it one month since you were born. I just can’t believe that it was only 28 days ago that your Dad and I were hiking through the snow eating pineapples and beets trying to induce your birth. Little did we know it was our last carefree night as a pair of lovebirds. I didn’t think we could be any happier than we were that night, posting our silly photos, exchanging glances and talking late into the night. But then you came along. You have filled our hearts with such an abundance of joy that we both find ourselves smiling amidst all the chaos, our love stretched like a balloon at maximum capacity about to burst.

Don't get me wrong, being a mom isn't easy. Lately, I smell of sour milk, pick spit-up out of my crusty hair, forget to button my shirt after I feed you and fall asleep standing up in the grocery store line. But no matter the loss of my vanity or the fact you are impossibly difficult to lay down to sleep, I gaze down at you and my eyes just start to tingle when I see your cherub cheeks. Your face is changing every day, rounding out along with your little body. Your bright eyes make me melt into a tiny pile of gush. Your little squishy body in my hands and your sweet soft cheeks made for kisses and nibbles, make three hours of sleep feel like bliss. While not simple, it's very rewarding.

Much love - Mom

People Like to Hold You!

2010-03-10T11:35:00.000-08:00

Dear Story:

Here are some photos of people other than your Mom and Dad who have met you since you were born.

Mimi and "Ina"

Your Aunt Sandy and Uncle C

Jerimy, Susan and John

Your cousins Hannah and Aiden (Aunt Jen and Uncle Joe not pictured)

So far, everyone seems to think you are adorable. I think they all sort of love you. How could they not?

xoxo Mom

The polls are open!

2010-03-01T14:41:00.004-08:00

I was recently invited to join two top blog referral sites. Both Top Baby Blogs and Top Mommy Blogs rank you in order of referrals. If you can manage a high enough ranking - you have the opportunity to touch more readers. I like the idea of some extra readership, but really I'm an absolute ratings whore. So if you want to give me a competitive edge, click here and here! And then come back tomorrow and do it again!!

My Breasts Are Magnificent!

2010-02-28T20:22:00.003-08:00

Dear Story,

In case you didn’t know, my breasts are magnificent! It’s not just that they are giant and round and sit up under my chin like they did when I was 23. They are also functional! They produce copious amounts of white wet milk that overflow most of the day onto my t-shirts and jackets, dousing your bed and changing table with gushes of fluid when I bend over. I had no idea how similar the female form could be to that of a milking cow.

As soon as I hear your gentle cries, I feel this little tingling at the top of my breast. The tingle slowly moves down towards the areola and then I actually feel my magnificent mammary glands begin to swell like air entering a deflated tire. Once engorged, you latch on to my breasts with the ferocity of a barracuda attacking its prey. I gush like a fire hydrant and hope the force of the flow doesn’t push you off my breast. The combination of my flow and your grip make the time pass quickly. Between your gulps for air, you lightly cup the sides of my watermelon sized boobs in your tiny little hands as if touching the face of a delicate china doll.

Sometimes I worry that I might crush you beneath their weight. They are so heavy that just getting out of bed in the morning constitutes a complete lower back work-out. Of course, I wear a bra to bed to keep them reigned in so I don’t knock your father out on accident when coming back from a midnight bathroom run. Swollen to twice their size, my new porn star proportions have limited my wardrobe to stretch fabrics, v-necks and button-downs. Thankfully, I never threw away those flannel shirts from my Seattle grunge phase.

Let’s not even talk about my amaze-balls nipples! Hour after hour they are exposed to extreme sucking and nibbling and yet somehow they don’t shrivel up or fall off (even thought sometimes I wish they would). Like science fiction characters from a distant planet, the beaten down crusty and blistered nipples miraculously heal themselves between alternating feedings.

I once thought that all breasts were good for was a little extra male attention. But then you came along. I gaze down at you while you suckle and you stare back with those big blue eyes that see me like no one else before. I hold your little hand, you grip me with your soft baby fingers, it’s our moment and I know it’s my breasts that are making it all possible.

So Story, if you see me walking just a little more proud, straightening my spine to thrust my chest out before me, if you see me doing a double take in front of the mirror when I catch the girth of my side boob or the depth of my cleavage, don’t be alarmed. It’s only because my breasts are magnificent.

Love, Mom

Happy Birthday Story (Two Weeks Old Today!)

2010-02-25T16:17:00.005-08:00

Dear Story:

Daddy went back to work today and left us alone for the first time. I admit, I was scared of the quiet. For the last two weeks, your Daddy and I have lived in an isolated bubble of baby burps, diaper discussion and sleep pattern analysis. We have been impervious to the sleet and snow outside, except for its guilt free reason to shut out the world, stay inside, light a fire and exist in our own little baby kissed universe.

Reality suspended, we have enjoyed every moment of our two week staycation. During the day, we patiently observe a cycle of eat, change, activity, sleep. Daddy does the wash, cleans the dishes, takes out the trash and makes the coffee. Mommy makes the bed, feeds the baby, and prepares all the meals. We share diaper duty. At night, we toss and turn with your every coo, grunt and wail, praying that you will sleep more than 2.5 hours at a time.

In our bubble, there are no bills to pay, phone calls to return or obligations to the outside world. And then today it burst. Dad went back to work and I sat down at my desk to go through the pile of mail and compile my “to do” list.

Here is what I had hoped to accomplish today:

Do the wash
Write eight thank-you notes
Clean the kitchen
Go to the grocery store
Complete three unfinished blog posts
Pay bills
Organize baby paperwork
Prepare lunch
Prepare dinner
Put something aside for Daddy to eat for dinner
Invoice clients
Reach out to three new client prospects

Here is what I actually accomplished:

Got one load of wash out of the dryer and dumped it on the center of the bed
Fed you, burped you, changed you
Asked Dad to write eight thank-you notes before he left for work
Fed you, burped you, changed you
Rocked you for two hours because you wouldn’t stop fussing
Thought very hard about loading the dishwasher
Put you in the ErgoBaby and heated up some leftovers for lunch
Fed you, burped you, changed an extremely dirty diaper resulting from an assplosion of mythic proportions
Looked at the bills but you started crying
Rocked you for another hour until you nodded out for fifteen minutes and then woke up grunting and fidgeting - why does this not happen when Daddy is here?
Managed to Skype with your cousins for eight minutes
Started to write this blog about five times, one word at a time, while I jiggled you on my lap until you started grunting and thrashing
Put you in the car seat and zoomed you around the house which was somewhat effective until I stopped
Tried to swaddle you, you escaped
Fed you, burped you, changed you
Thought maybe you have dark circles under your eyes and spent twenty minutes on the internet researching birth defects that cause blackened eyes
Put on all our going out clothes and then decided to take a nap instead on the sofa
You slept about twenty minutes and cried the minute I moved you to your bed
At 4:00 PM I put the stove to 400 degrees to attempt to make pizza
Put you in the ErgoBaby and got the mail!
Fed you, burped you, changed you, tried again to put you down
Replaced your soothie when it fell out of your mouth over fourteen times in one hour
Decided you have your Daddy’s nose
Fed you, burped you, changed you
Shit! Left the stove on for three hours and never made pizza
You closed your eyes for about eighteen minutes and I finished this blog

Don’t tell your Daddy, but I had no idea how much easier this was with four hands instead of two. Now don’t worry Ms. Story Brynne, I’m determined to persevere! This is only day one, and I can't remember a job I did well at (or still liked) on the first day. With time, we are going to be a great team!! Of course, I know that once I’ve mastered this challenge, there will be another one waiting. And just like today, I promise to meet each challenge with patience and love. Nothing worth having comes easy. You will be my life’s greatest work.

Love every little eyelash, toe nail, and ear hair - Mom

Getting Things Done - Day 10

2010-02-21T20:01:00.002-08:00

Dear Story:

Sunday has always been a special day for me and your father. We wake up when we want to wake up and we lay around the house drinking coffee and doing our own separate projects. We have lunch together, go for a walk and maybe see friends. But today was our first "family" Sunday. We all slept in until 11:30 AM, I fed you, we drank coffee in our separate corners, I fed you again, we answered emails, I fed you, we caught up on our favorite blogs, I fed you again, I got to write for the first time in a long while, I fed you, Dad processed his in-box, we organized and I fed you some more. Your father spent about eight hours cleaning up his gmail contacts list and according to the new Total Baby app on our iTouch, he changed you six times!

Encouraged by the extra hours of sleep you gave us last night, we moved around furniture, did wash, cleaned, and put some order back into our lives. We know it wont last, but for now it was just what we needed.

Refreshed and rejuvenated, we are ready for the week to begin. At least we think we are.

News Bulletin - Day 6

2010-02-17T20:34:00.003-08:00

Daddy Shaved!!

Don't tell your father, but a new man is now sleeping in my bed. And he is very handsome.

Family Resemblance - Day 5

2010-02-16T20:37:00.000-08:00

Dear Story:

I can't yet figure out who you resemble more.

Day 2 - Welcome Home Story

2010-02-13T19:56:00.005-08:00

Dear Story:

Dad and I took you home from the hospital today in a big yellow cab driven by a man named Khakid Alied.

We introduced you to every room in your new home, swaddled you in the bed, rocked you in the swing, tried out the changing table and even gave you a sponge bath on your new pink tub. You seemed to love every minute of it!

Like most new parents, we took a virtual cornucopia of photos and video and found ourselves just staring at you in your crib.

We were so happy to leave the hospital and so happy to have you home where you belong. Oh Story, your Daddy and I are so happy that you are here. Even though you were a big surprise, it's as if we waited all our lives to meet you. And well, we are just so happy.

Welcome home Story. Welcome to our family.

The Results Are In!

2010-02-11T19:36:00.001-08:00

Consider the inducement experiment a big success! Not sure if it was the beets, the pineapple or the spicy food - but something worked!

Story Brynne Hesson was born on February 11th, 2010. Labor began at 5:00 AM and ended at 7:00 PM. In attendance was one very capable midwife, one very outspoken nurse, one very proud Papa and one very happy Mimi. Born 7 lbs 8 oz, 20.5 inches long. She is perfect in every way!

Happy Birthday Story!

The Inducement Experiment (-1 Days)

2010-02-10T20:59:00.005-08:00

Intro
My fellow first time pregnants, beware! While your friends and family are coughing out their kids early, your due date may come and go and leave you with nothing but an in-box of “Is she here yet?” messages.

“I’ve been counting down to this day for nine freaking months, and you're only just now telling me I might still have to wait two more weeks for my baby?”

“I want a refund. No one told me this in the beginning.”

“This is really going to mess with our schedule.”

“I have to be back to work in four weeks, so the longer she takes – the less time I will have with her. If that’s the way she wants it, fine!”

Does this make you weird? Does it mean something is wrong with your child? Is this just the start of her not measuring up to the other kids on the block? Will she ever come out? Is it too late to change your mind and just not have this kid?

Don’t despair. Most first time pregnants are late. In fact, you should just expect it. Perhaps you should even tell friends and family that the due date is a month later than it actually is, because it is their constant checking in on the arrival of your little bundle that builds up all the excitement and consequent disappointment when it doesn’t happen.

But is there something you can do about it? Can labor be naturally induced? Before you begin an exhaustive internet search and max out the storage capacity of your new Buzz account, let’s find out if even one of these natural methods can actually induce labor.

Purpose
The purpose of “The Inducement Experiment” is to discover if labor can be naturally induced. By folding every potential inducement method into one day, we have no way of knowing which method might actually do the trick. But we should be able to determine if any one of them or combination of them is able to naturally induce labor within a 24 hour period of time.

Methodology
Starting at 9 AM today, I set out on an expedition with my assistant Jacques the Explorer.

The experiment began with a solicitation from friends and family for natural inducement methods. After an exhaustive review of this list, the most popular methods were selected for testing. Jacques was the record keeper as we set out into the snow on our quest.

Here are the most popular recommended methods for naturally inducing labor.

Eat pineapple

Ingest a large amount of beets

Drink Red Raspberry leaf tea

Eat hot and spicy foods

Participate in reflexology, acupuncture and/or a chiropractic adjustment

Engage in sexual activity resulting in mutual orgasm

(Photo removed by request from "Save the Whales" Foundation)

Walk, walk and walk some more

(Video shot and edited by my loving husband)

Summary of Findings

Pineapple is difficult to find in the middle of an early February blizzard.

Beets taste much better when they are pickled.

Red Raspberry leaf tea has very little, if any flavor, but tastes much better when eaten with pineapple.

Pineapple causes sour burps for an hour and I might be developing three new canker sours.

Habanero peppers are very, very spicy.

Reflexology feels very good, as does massage, but should be performed by a professional as the slightest shift of hand could have dire effects.

In order to have sex resulting in mutual orgasm at nine months and 1 day pregnant, one must find some way to feel remotely sexy.

In order to have sex resulting in mutual orgasm at nine months and 1 day pregnant, one must be very flexible.

If one really wants to have sex resulting in mutual orgasm at nine months and 1 day pregnant, it’s best one not eat 1.5 pineapples, three pickled beets, ½ pound of spicy taco meat, a habanero pepper, and arrabiata pasta within an hour of said attempt.

Walking in a blizzard at nine months and 1 day pregnant is harder than walking at seven months pregnant on Venice Beach.

Walking in a blizzard at nine months and 1 day pregnant, then eating 1.5 pineapples, three pickled beets, ½ pound of spicy taco meat, a habanero pepper, arrabiata pasta and then trying to have sex resulting in mutual orgasm is not advised.

Evaluations
While not yet inducing labor, most of the tactics did make Baby Hedvig wiggle around. And while not yet inducing labor, eating 1.5 pineapples, three pickled beets, ½ pound of spicy taco meat, a habanero pepper, and arrabiata pasta does cause severe indigestion and funky gas. Which I can see passing for false labor.

Results
To be determined. As a full 24 hours has not passed since the start of the experiment, the results are currently inconclusive. The clock is ticking and Hedvig has about twelve hours left to prove that one of these methods was actually effective. Tune in tomorrow for final results.

Zero Days Left and No Hedvig. Yet.

2010-02-09T20:16:00.000-08:00

Dear God – Are you there? It’s me Hedvig.

I know you are very busy up there, especially with all the snow you are making tonight. But if I could, I would like to send up this one tiny prayer. Can I be born soon?

It’s been a very long nine months. When this whole thing started, I really liked the place where I live. It was spacious and warm and I could swim around all day. Once I could hear, I heard the sounds of my Mommy talking. She talks a whole lot, but I kinda like it. What I like even more, is listening to my Daddy sing. He makes up silly songs and yells them really loud in my ear. I’m pretty sure he is a clown with big shoes and a red nose because he is always saying and doing very funny things. I really want to meet them both.

Don’t get me wrong, things have been nice in here. The food is good. I eat lots of amniotic fluid, and my Mom bakes these amazing cupcakes and cookies that come at me in a major sugar rush. The climate is great. It’s warm and cozy. And I get out every day with my Mom and Dad for these long walks that gently rock me back and forth in my little nest. But the truth is that it’s been starting to get a little cramped.

For starters, I’ve been stuck upside down for the last month with my head in my Mom’s pelvis. That’s a lot of blood rushing to the head. I try to kick around but I’m constantly bumping up against my Mothers rib cage. I have to really work to turn around in this tight space. I can feel everything that touches my Mothers belly, her desk, the kitchen table, her super tight ski jacket, the bed, Daddy’s hands. For a long time, no one could touch me – but now when people put their hand on my Mom’s tummy I can feel them trying to grab my toes. And well, I kinda like it. To be honest, I like it a lot.

I like it so much, I think I would like to really feel their hands on my toes. I think I want to touch my Mommy’s face and meet my silly Daddy. Okay, so it’s not really the space as much as I’m a little lonely. Sometimes, I feel like I’m standing outside of a house with a big party going on inside. All I can do right now is press my ear to the door, but what I really want is to be invited in for some cake.

I know it’s going to be tough out there. I know it’s going to take me a little while to adjust. I hear it’s cold and loud and not as squishy or soft, but I think I’m ready. There are so many things and people waiting for me. I can’t wait to wear my first party dress, or dance around the room with Papa, or play Settlers of Catan with Dad. I want to see the snow and take a bath with Mommy, go to a show with Mimi, and eat in a restaurant. Everyone is having so much fun out there and I want to be part of it!

Dear God, I know you are busy. I know there are more important things going on in the world than the pleas of a nine month old baby. I know you have a plan and a time and a way to do this right. But if you can, if it’s not too much trouble, if it’s possible, can I be born soon?

Thanks God,

Baby Hedvig

1 Day

2010-02-08T20:02:00.002-08:00

My husband has decided to greet his newborn baby girl with a dashing handlebar moustache.

We all have our own way of preparing for change.

Tonight, Gabe and I had date night. It was a night of odds. We walked to World Cafe Live for a storyslam on the theme First Impressions and hoped my water didn't break along the icy path. About 100 people showed up, and 50 or so put their name in the hat to judge the competition. But it was my name that was selected.

We listened to 10 stories, 3 great and 7 okay. We saw old friends and made a few new ones.

At the end of the night, 100 people put their names in the hat for a raffle and Gabe won! He now has his very own copy of the Vagina Monologues, so he can stop borrowing mine.

What are the odds that my water wouldn't break? That my name would be selected to judge? That Gabe would win the door prize? And do any of these odds make it more likely that our baby girl will be born on her due date with no complications and not squeal in fear when she sees her new daddy's face?

I hope so.

Signs of Labor, What should I be watching for? (2 Days to Go)

2010-02-07T20:48:00.003-08:00

With only two days remaining to my due date, I realize that little Hedvig could be making her entrance at any moment. To a schedule minder anal retentive like myself, this is utterly frustrating. Is it too much to ask God to just put a little appointment reminder in my blackberry so I can plan accordingly?

I have no reason to think that Hedvig will be early, and in fact, most first time mothers are late. So I don’t know why I still wake up in the middle of the night with a cramp thinking, “Is this it”?

I’ve Googled ‘determining when you are in labor’ several times, but that doesn’t give me any more control over the situation. What it does give me, are a few obvious signs of labor that I thought I would share with my readers.

Unfortunately, not on this list are the types of signs I was hoping to find. For example, “You will crave Mexican food. You will get a small ache in your lower back that grows in intensity until you start to feel contractions. You will suddenly start walking with a limp. Your mother-in-law will arrive. Mother Nature will drop 18 inches of snow making it impossible to catch a cab to the hospital.” I feel confident I will know when I am in labor, but what about pre-labor?

Effacement and Dilation of the Cervix
Before you can have your baby, I guess your cervix has to both thin out and open. The thinning is called effacement. You don’t feel it happening and you can’t really tell if it has, but your doctor will tell you at your next exam. Effacement is often expressed in percentages. When you're 50 percent effaced, your cervix is half its original thickness. Your cervix must be 100 percent effaced, or completely thinned out, before a vaginal delivery.

The Doctor refers to the opening of the cervix as dilatation and gives you a number from 1- 10cm to let you know where you are at. You have to be at 10 to deliver, but the process of dilation can occur very inconsistently. For example, I was a 1cm at 37 weeks, 3cm at 38 weeks, and by now I could be walking around at 5 cm and not even know it.

At first, these cervical changes may be very slow. Your progress isn't a good indicator of when labor will begin, but rather a general sign that you're getting ready for labor. Once you're in active labor, I expect to dilate much more quickly.

My doctor said, “I don’t even know why we tell people at their weekly exams. It really can change at any moment and usually it’s the last three that happen all of the sudden.”

The Mucous Plug
I totally didn’t know what this was until Gabe and I took the pregnancy class offered by the hospital. During pregnancy, a thick plug of mucus blocks the cervical opening to prevent bacteria from entering the uterus. When your cervix begins to thin and open, this plug may fall out. You may notice stringy mucus or a thick discharge. It's typically brown and sometimes tinged with blood. And it’s kinda gross.

Losing the mucous plug is a sign of labor, but doesn’t mean anything is imminent. I lost mine three days ago and have an unfortunate feeling that actual active labor is still days away.

Nesting
I’ve heard that “nesting” is a typical sign that labor is on the way. Well, I’ve been nesting for the last month and clearly not in labor. But what they say is that this instinct is increased as you get closer to actual labor and that typically you wake up one morning feeling a special burst of energy, ready to re-arrange the furniture, clean out the cabinets, bake four dozen cupcakes, dust above the cupboard and paint the nursery. And then, apparently, you are in the middle of one of these projects and you go into labor.

Well, that sounds like no fun at all. Coming home to a half painted nursery or uncooked cupcakes sounds miserable. I’m starting to wonder if my compulsive need for perfection has prevented this instinct from being an effective sign of impending labor. Sort of like I will the baby back up into the body rather than consider the possibility of coming home to a dirty house or half finished project.

Water Breaking
This is the sign they always use in the movies. The woman is usually standing somewhere like the line at the grocery store and then suddenly she looks down and there is a puddle beneath her and she runs off to the hospital to have her baby. My sister tells me that its more like you are sitting in the car and you feel like you wet your pants, then you go to the bathroom to check and find something like turkey giblets in your underwear. With my luck, I’ll be sitting on my white couch when it happens. And considering how many times I’ve wet my pants in this pregnancy, it could have happened months ago. Seriously, I sneeze, cough, laugh or take a deep breath and I’m likely to have a puddle underneath me. So I have no idea how I will know when my water actually breaks.

On my last visit, the doctor gave me a test to check if one of my puddle incidents was actually my water breaking. Alas, it hasn’t happened yet. The “water” is actually the fluid inside your an amniotic sac that cushions your baby in the uterus. Our Doctor says that your water can break and that doesn’t mean contractions will follow. It’s best to have the baby within 24 hours of your water breaking, because the longer the membranes are ruptured, the greater the risk of developing an infection. Of course, they test you in week 37 to find out if your fluid is prone to infection. Mine is not. Therefore, our doctor told us that we should stay home as long as we can if the water breaks.

“If you call, they will tell you to come in. And if you come in with your water broken and aren’t in labor, they will induce. So you might want to wait it out a little. Don’t call right away but definitely get in before 24 hours.”

Contractions
Now for the most obvious sign of labor and the one I keep waiting to happen. Contractions. During the last few months of pregnancy, they told me I may experience occasional, painless contractions — a sensation that your uterus is tightening and relaxing. These are called Braxton Hicks contractions. Our doctor says that they help push the baby down to get in position.

As your due date approaches, Braxton Hicks contractions may become stronger or even painful. Eventually, Braxton Hicks contractions will be replaced by the real thing. To tell the difference, ask yourself these questions:

Are the contractions regular? Time your contractions from the beginning of one to the beginning of the next. Look for a regular pattern of contractions that get progressively stronger and closer together. The contractions of false labor will remain irregular.
How long do they last? True contractions last more than 30 seconds at first and get progressively longer — up to 90 seconds. The contractions of false labor vary in length.
Can you stop the contractions? True contractions continue regardless of your activity level or position. In fact, they often grow stronger with increased activity, such as walking. With false labor, you may be able to stop the contractions by changing your activity or position, lying down or taking a walk.

Well – to be perfectly honest, I don’t think I’ve had a single contraction this entire pregnancy. I have these moments where the baby presses really hard on my belly and then releases and I wonder, “Is that a contraction?” But I don’t really think it is.

In summary – this baby isn’t coming any time soon. I’m failing in the pre-labor signs department. So sit back, buckle up and get ready for the -1 days and counting blog coming on Wed. And if anything changes, I’ll let you know.

Three

2010-02-06T13:15:00.005-08:00

Dear Sweet Baby, just thought you should know that you are really our third baby.

Our first was conceived last Christmas over late nights in front of the computer collaborating on Daddy’s application packages for business school. Daddy would write and then sit hopefully by my side while I read.

"Please don't say that I have to re-write the whole thing," he begged.

Then I would begin the critique, "Let's talk about what's good first".

We gave that baby Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years and every date night in between. Gabe averaged 5 hours of sleep and I averaged 6. He wrote, I critiqued, he wrote more, I organized his recommenders, he prodded them gently, I nagged incessantly. We submitted the final application on January 8th and on August 9th we got the news that Dad was accepted at UCLA Anderson.

He sat stunned on the couch, the phone pressed to his ear. I jumped up and down silently before he hung up and then I wrapped my arms and legs around him and squeezed with every muscle in my body.

"We did it," he said.

Our second baby was conceived on July 27th, when your father got down on one knee at the Kidrobot store in New York and asked me to marry him. The engagement was just the beginning. Your father and I labored for 60 days over every small detail. Dad had an opinion on everything from the color of the paper for the programs to the flowers for the boutonnieres. And of course, I had an opinion as well. So we had to collaborate on everything.

I averaged three hours of sleep between juggling the guest list, assembling programs, cutting out gift bag labels, wrapping favors, selecting bridesmaid dresses and managing the invitation and RSVP process. Daddy did all the song selection, handled all the restaurants and food, worked on the ceremony and wrote thank you notes. We poured our hearts and souls into something that was really special for the both of us. The big day was birthed September 26, 2009 and it was spectacular! It was the product of our love and devotion to one another and it came together beautifully.

We are pretty proud of our first two offspring. But I have a feeling we will be even more proud of you!

We expect to be tired and cranky and frustrated when things don’t go quite right. We know all about trial and error. But in the end, we are both confident that the first time you grip a finger, hold up your head on your own, smile, crawl or make a noise that resembles a word, then it will all be worth it. We make pretty good things together, your Daddy and I.

I think you will love your siblings as much as we do and we can’t wait for you to meet them!

See you soon – Mommy and Daddy

4 Days to Motherhood

2010-02-05T20:50:00.003-08:00

As much as I love my mother, I don’t think I’ve ever loved or respected her as much as I have since I found out that I was pregnant. And I have a feeling that emotion will grow even stronger over the next few years. The more I think about the impending birth and childhood of my little girl, I wonder how my mother did it with such style and grace.

Through nine pregnancies and seven children, my mother remained patient and seemingly delighted with every new baby coo. She combed her hair every day and put on her face, changed diapers, prepared meals, drove carpool, planned birthday parties and chaperoned Girl Scout outings. She never made it look like a chore.

My mother and father made it look so easy. They made it look so fun. There was always a camping trip, a beach hike, a ski day or a pool adventure on the horizon. Dad planned scavenger hunts in the backyard and Mom made birthday cakes shaped like Elephants in the kitchen. We went sailing, travelled to Europe, played board games, and had screaming contests in the car. They really seemed to love being parents. Especially Mom.

As I think beyond this pregnancy and ponder being a mother, I visualize my mother for inspiration. She did it all without thanks or praise, without stomping her feet and saying, “What about me?”, without whining “What happened to my life?”

I know she had a life of her own. She painted pictures that my father proudly hung in prominent places around the house. She wrote Erma Bombeck inspired stories that Dad read at the dinner table with a red pen in is hand to correct her grammar. Then there was that macramé class she took at the local community college where she made a green macramé bikini. Oh yes, and the stained glass course when she created a brilliant green floral window that now catches the light in a loft space of my parents new home. She had her own Christmas store when I was a teenager, and now my mother takes classes on flower arranging and participates in both a Bunko and Poker club. Obviously she has always had her own interests, but as a child it never once occurred to me that my mother may have had a life outside of us children.

Every night, dinner was on the table, the babies bathed and dressed for bed. In the morning, we all managed to get out of bed on time, eat breakfast, get dressed and out the door for school. I don’t recall anyone ever saying thank you, but she still woke up and did it again every day. How on earth will I be able to do this?

How will I cope when my child only remembers the time it went wrong, instead of all the times it didn’t? I can remember the one band recital when my mother fell asleep in the second row, but I can barely recall the number of recitals where she sat alert and pensive throughout. I can remember the time she was late to pick me up at school and I waited outside for thirty minutes, but now I marvel that she managed to be on time for the thousand plus other times. What will my child remember about me? Will she remember that one time I lost her at Target, or will she remember that I didn’t let go of her hand on 1,289 other visits?

How will I cope when my little girl grows up into a resentful adult? How will I still love her after she reminds me of everything I did to screw her up? How will I feel when after eighteen birthday cakes, cards and candles, she forgets my birthday? How will I continue to love her through her rebellious period? How will I have the strength to stick by her even when she hates me?

Will I have to wait until the eve of Hedvigs first pregnancy, for her to turn to me and say “Thank you Mom. For everything. For changing my diapers twelve times a day for the first two years of my life. For feeding me every three hours even though your nipples were sore and dry. For bathing me every night. For teaching me how to walk. For giving me swim lessons. For helping me learn to read. For taking me on ski trips. For buying me weeble wobbles. For letting me join the swim team. For holding the water bottle on my ear when I had an ear ache. For driving me to summer school and giving me Granola Bars and Grapefruit pop as a snack. For buying me that pair of jeans with the strawberry on the bum. For pushing me to take honors classes. For encouraging me to be a writer. For not losing me at the commissary. For laughing so hard at my silly jokes. For baking me those three butterfly cakes for my seventh birthday. For sending me to private school. For believing all my ridiculous stories. For taking me to Europe in 6th grade. For inviting me home for Christmas every year. For taking out all my splinters. For making those cute green velour outfits for the Christmas photo. For not being mad when I told you I was pregnant. For paying for my wedding. For being there every night when I call to tell you how many centimeters I’m dilated or how much my heartburn hurts. Thank you.”

Quote of the Day (5 Days and Counting)

2010-02-04T20:59:00.007-08:00

“You probably were only 5lbs 14 ounces when you were born because I drank and smoked through the entire pregnancy. But I want you to know, we were travelling in England until a month before you were born, and I only smoked the very best cigarettes. They were Dunhills.”

Dear Baby - Only 6 days until we meet!

2010-02-03T20:59:00.006-08:00

Dear Sweet Baby,

It is difficult to believe that this time next Wednesday night I may be feeding you or Daddy may be trying out his “Happiest Baby on the Block” tricks on you. If the shushing sound he makes in your ear is annoying, I give you permission to vomit on him.

In these last few days, Mommy and Daddy have been doing lots of preparing for you arrival. Tonight, I baked 24 red velvet cupcakes and 24 snickerdoodles to serve to all the friends that will be stopping by to see you when you are born.

Daddy walked me all over town to try and find flavors to drip in my ice chips at the hospital, he got the laptop loaded with our favorite music and photos and packed his Daddy bag. We washed and folded all your new baby clothes. Your Aunty Barb sent another huge box of designer duds that made Mommy tear up and cry all over them. Dad said we should wash them again.

On Friday night, Mimi will be arriving so she can help us with your birth. We hope you don’t come before she arrives because she would be so sad to miss your arrival. And Daddy and I still have a few things left on on our ‘To Do’ lists.

Daddy and I spend a lot of time wondering what kind of birth we will have, and what kind of baby you will be. I'm especially curious about what you might look like when you are born.

Here is what your daddy looked like when he was born.

And here is what your mommy looked like when she was a baby.

I hope you look more like me.

Daddy was born 7 lbs and 2.5 oz, he broke his nose and Mimi's tail bone on his way out after 36 hours of labor. I slid out at 5 lbs 14 oz within five minutes of my Mother arriving at the hospital.

I hope you are born more like me too.

When I was little, I loved looking at pictures of my Mom and Dad when they were babies. I also loved asking your great grandma Wiese and Ford to tell me stories about when my parents were bad. Your Grandma Hesson and Grandma Wiese should have lots of stories like that for you Hedvig. And as for photos, I put together this little video so that you could see what your mom and dad looked like when they were little. I can’t wait to watch it with you someday and answer all your questions.

Well, I should probably get some sleep because I need to be well rested in case you decide to arrive in the middle of the night. Would it be possible if you could wait until around noon before you start your journey towards us? Daddy and I really like to sleep in and it would be so great to meet you when we are super well rested.

Thanks Baby - See you soon,

Mom

Magical Spaces for Children (7 days until D-Day)

2010-02-02T20:56:00.001-08:00

39 weeks today! One week from my due date and the reality that a week from now I may have a baby on my lap still hasn’t really set in. We visited the doctor today and she said I'm 3 centimeters dilated - which means absolutely nothing. Apparently, I can walk around as dilated as 7 centimeters and it means nothing until I actually start to go into labor. I'm still sort of hoping that the baby just drops out one day in the kitchen while I'm making Red Velvet cupcakes. Now that would be a good birth story!

Ever since the appointment, I've been sluggish and quite crampy. So I looked for a little something on my favorite blogs to bring some cheer and I found all these fantastic and inspiring spaces sure to spark a little creativity. When my little lady comes into the world, re-decorating her room on an annual basis will be one of our favorite things to do. I'll keep these pics for inspiration!

Date Night (8 Days Left)

2010-02-01T20:59:00.000-08:00

Tonight’s post will be short and sweet because my evening has been hijacked by my loving husband who decided to whisk me away for a surprise date night.

“I’ll pick you up at 3:30,” he said.

“You know we live in the same house, right?”

“Just be ready,” he told me. And at 3:30, he knocked on the door.

We walked to the center of our beautiful city, and stood staring up at City Hall. In June, Gabe and I made a list of all the things we wanted to do in Philadelphia before we moved and at the top of that list was to see the city from the City Hall Tower. Trouble is, you have to get an appointment well in advance. And well, we don’t really do advance. So all we have ever been able to do is stare up at the tower and wonder about its magnificent views. But not today. My sweet husband had arranged for us to take the very last tiny little elevator up to the tower and have the entire observation deck to ourselves to watch the sunset.

It was gorgeous, the sunlight glistening off the buildings and casting the rooftops in a golden glow. We marveled at the city stretched beneath us. The security guard that took us up in the elevator insisted that if I went into labor tonight we had to name our little girl Penny after William Penn. Thankfully, I haven’t gone into labor just yet.

We left the tower and wandered over to the Comcast center where we explored the new food court. We ate hoagies and French Fries. I told Gabe that ever since I had seen the Cosby show I had wanted to get a real Philly Hoagie and he said, “That was filmed in Philly?”

At one point, he leaned over the table and spoke in a hushed voice, “God, I have the most beautiful wife.”

I blushed.

We left the gourmet food court and stopped off at the Sony store to play the new Wild Things video game on Sony PlayStation. We walked home, only stopping along the way at Di Bruno Brothers to pick up cheese for a massive cheese platter we assembled when we got home. We took our time in the store, tasting every cheese sample and reading the labels on all the various fig jam spreads. He has a thing for fig jam.

While we were walking through the park, he took my gloved hand and kissed it gently as if I were something delicate and precious. As if I weren't so ginormous that I couldn't zip my winter coat.

When we got home, we ran a hot bath. We lit candles like couples do in the movies and took a long soak. It was an effort just lowering the extra 20 pounds of my achey 39 week pregnant body into the water and not displacing half the tub onto the bathroom floor. He sang along with songs on the XM radio, told me stories and gave me all the best details from his daily blog reads.

Afterwards, Gabe lit a fire in the living room, I assembled the grand cheese platter, and we sat in front of the fire playing Gin Rummy. I won six hands to his four and scored three times as many points. Yet he still loves me enough to be arranging some surprise for me in the bedroom before we go to bed.

I don’t know how many date nights we have in store for us in the upcoming months, so I’m really glad we got this last one in before the baby’s arrival. And I couldn’t be more grateful for a man who knows exactly what makes me happy. Sometimes, I can't believe that someone so giving, so creative, so humble and so handsome, loves me.

I got lucky when I found him.

Sometimes I forget how really great I’ve got it.

9 Days to Baby Toes

2010-01-31T20:56:00.002-08:00

Dear Baby Hedvig:

We are now counting down to your arrival in single digits. I have to be honest, the last two days have been rough. You wriggle and writhe and stick toes in places that they just don’t belong. You wake me up in the middle of the night and cause heartburn that feels like I am having a heart attack. I’m cranky when I don’t sleep and that makes me extra mean to your father.

When I’m cranky, I let dark thoughts invade the peaceful space that is usually filled with nothing but love and excitement for our first meeting. And tonight – the darkness came, softly but swiftly like a fog rolling in from the sea. By the time I noticed it, I was panicked.

You see, dear girl, I’m a little bit freaked out about the prospect of changing my life for your arrival. I’m nervous about losing myself. Before I met your father I wore my hair long, my dresses short and never left the house without at least 2½ inches of stylish heel. I signed up for missions in Bosnia or Africa or Albania when life felt boring. I loved coming home to an empty apartment, a clean kitchen and a well made bed. I slept on a different side of my glorious bed every night and cherished staying up late with my laptop writing blogs and answering my Friendster, MySpace, Facebook and Match.com emails. Dating was my favorite sport, shopping was my cardio warm-up and eating alone in a coffee shop was a daily exercise. My life was wild and free and easy.

Of course, your Dad changed all that and I’m happy that he did, but I’m still sort of adjusting. And now here comes you. People keep warning me that “everything is going to change”, “you will never leave the house again”, “you will become nothing more than a feeding machine”, and I can’t help wondering if all that I once loved about myself is about to die. I know you will keep me busy and entertained, but will you keep me mentally stimulated? Will I be trapped inside a world of diapers and bottles and sleeping schedules with no outlet? Will Dad stop talking to me about articles he read in the Economist? Will we ever have date night again?

I already feel like a bad mother for even thinking these things. These fears come and go these days – and are most often triggered after an evening with friends who have kids of their own. I wish I could promise you that once you are born these fears will vanish. I hope that they do. I also hope that your father and I don’t stop caring for our souls and our minds when you burst into our world. I hope that we allow you to widen our world and not shrink it. I hope that we get to be kids again because of you and that our love for one another deepens as a result of your presence in our lives. My dear sweet baby, I hope you never know the fears that threatened to eclipse the sunshine of your bright spirit coming into our world.

Look, I have never been good at knowing what will make my life complete and happy. In fact, the things that have brought me the greatest joy are things I resisted at first. A stable (boring) job, a move to Philadelphia, your Dad, a career change, marriage! So I think it’s okay that I’m feeling this way tonight. I think it’s okay to mourn my independence one last night. I think, well I hope, that this is normal and healthy and all part of the journey towards becoming a mom.

Regardless of how I feel, you are coming soon and there is nothing I want to change about that fact. You are the most important project I will ever accomplish and the next great journey in my life. You are my chance to give back the copious amounts of love I’ve received in my lifetime. And for that I’m truly grateful.

Don’t worry sweet baby, I’m ready whenever you are. Just a little reluctant tonight.

Love, Mom

When should I start wondering what to expect after the expecting part is all over and there is a baby on my lap? (10 Days Left)

2010-01-30T20:40:00.003-08:00

Since the day I discovered I was pregnant, I started reading What to Expect When You're Expecting. Hungry for more information about my rapidly changing body, I hit up the blogs and signed up for newsletters from both the American Pregnancy Association and Penn Medicine. I hungered for my weekly fix of pregnancy tips, advice and knowledge. I read about delivery and hospital protocol, I attended childbirth classes. I participated in on-line forums that debated the best way to bring your child into the world. I pumped my family members for their delivery stories. Rolling into 39 weeks, I think I’m as prepared as one can possibly be prepared for childbirth. But when should I start wondering what to expect after the expecting part is all over and there is a baby on my lap?

Up until now, every story has ended in birth. The last nine months have been about crossing that finish line when you hear your baby cry, Daddy cuts the cord, you deliver the placenta and then you lay back on the hospital bed sweaty and exhausted. Mission accomplished, right?

But then what?

With only ten days remaining in my baby countdown, I am anxious to switch gears and find out. I’m on a quest to learn what I can about the upcoming year and below is a list of the books, blogs and sources I have been using to investigate. I've never done this before and I have no idea where to start. So please leave your suggestions in my comment box.

For Daddy
The Guy's Guide to Surviving Pregnancy, Childbirth and the First Year of Fatherhood
by Michael Crider
Smonk You Blog

To Establish a Routine in the First Six Weeks
The Baby Whisperer Solves All Your Problems: Sleeping, Feeding, and Behavior--Beyond the Basics from Infancy Through Toddlerhood
by Tracy Hogg

For Crying
The Happiest Baby on the Block: The New Way to Calm Crying and Help Your Newborn Baby Sleep Longer
by Harvey Karp

For Sleep Training
The Baby Sleep Solution: A Proven Program to Teach Your Baby to Sleep Twelve Hours a Night
by Suzy Giordano and Lisa Abidin

For Toddler Training
Supernanny: How to Get the Best From Your Children
by Jo Frost

For Warm Fuzzies
Dear Baby Blog

For Decor
Spearmint Baby Blog
ohdeedoh Blog
Design Dazzle Blog