tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-47969665510790944522024-03-13T21:56:33.254-07:00Amelia and Annie's Awesome AdventuresI didn't make a baby book and I'm not a scrapbooker. I write this blog in shameless adoration of my babychildren and in exasperated confusion of motherhood. This is our tale.Mama Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13971658133454513216noreply@blogger.comBlogger247125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796966551079094452.post-9423298866268904462013-05-30T14:50:00.002-07:002013-05-30T14:51:22.409-07:00A Beginning and an End In the summer of 2010, we started having issues with the nanny we'd had for over a year. Amelia had grown big enough to start telling us about the nanny working on her computer and her phone all day. She'd started crying when I left for work in the morning and began having frequent potty accidents months after being trained to use the toilet. I actually blamed myself for these issues, thinking I was working too much and not home enough. We'd started looking for a new caregiver, but planned on keeping Ashley until we could find someone else. We didn't think Amelia was in any danger and we wanted to make a sound decision on our terms about the next step. We were mostly annoyed by the laziness and selfishness of the nanny, Ashley. Anyway to make a long story short, two weeks after the fall semester started, Ashley quit. Like in the morning as I was leaving for work. And in her all-arrogant non-brilliance, announced as her reason for leaving "This isn't working out." Yeah. Duh. (And yeah, it still pissed me off to this day.)<br />
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So there I was, already entrenched in the new school year and with no wiggle room in my schedule--or capacity for stress. I pretty much wrote about all this in a previous blog <a href="http://talesofamelia.blogspot.com/2011/10/year-ago.html">here</a>. </div>
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In any case, I spent the day on the phone trying to figure out the next step and mostly just panicking. On my way home on the day Ashley quit, I spotted a sign for a school right next to the college where I work and pulled in. Literally on a crazy whim. I told Justin I'd call him back, that I'd thought I'd just stop in and ask a couple questions. It seemed like a good place to at least start since it was in my path of travel on that panicked afternoon. There are two preschools on this site and I didn't even know what the difference was. I walked into one and they directed me to the other little house/school. When I walked in, it was dark and quiet as the children were napping. The sweet teacher (who is now a good friend and soul sister of mine), asked me what I was looking for in a school. I had no idea. She introduced me to the school's owner, who put on the sales pitch pretty heavily. I half listened, unable to think. As she spoke, I thought of a question here and there, and mostly just looked around. </div>
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When I went home for the weekend that night, it was the only lead I had. I didn't even know of other schools or what area we would even look at for potential schools. Over the weekend, we talked a lot about this school I'd checked out and compared it to the things we most wanted for Amelia. It appeared to match up. We assumed this was because we hadn't see any other schools and because we literally didn't know what we were talking about. Because we were dazed and stressed, we figured that this school looked kind of ideal. Amelia was enrolled within a week. I blogged about her <a href="http://talesofamelia.blogspot.com/2010/09/its-not-college-or-anything.html">first day</a> at the time. It was a rough culmination of a stress-packed couple of weeks. </div>
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Well today was Amelia's last day of preschool. She started that fall right after she turned two.<br />
So little. </div>
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In her three years at preschool, she's become an entirely different child. My sweet, shy, little love has become queen of the playground. When she walks into school, her friends flock to her and throw their arms around her neck. Once too quiet to talk to adults, she now openly gabs with the teachers, sometimes telling them the funniest things ("Today, Amelia told us that her parents are on the bus to Crazy Town and that she's the driver!") and giving them hugs good bye. Once so tiny that her backpack and lunch pail dwarfed her, she now loads and carries them both herself, flinging the car door open to toss them on the front seat before buckling herself into her seat. So capable, independent. She now dresses herself for school and brushes her own hair before trotting out the door. </div>
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She's also become a sister since then--and that's no accident. I credit Amelia's preschool with Annie's existence. After such a difficult beginning with Amelia, we (okay *I* was) were reluctant/hesitant to even think about another baby. But when she started going to school, it made me realize that things do get easier as they get older. It was the first time since her birth that I had hours alone outside of work. It helped me see myself as an independent being again--just as it made me see her as a more independent person. </div>
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Nowadays, Amelia lets Annie carry the lunch pail into school every morning. It makes Annie feel so grown. </div>
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Although, if I'm being totally honest, this little ritual has recently changed. For her 5th birthday, she got an awesome superhero lunch pail. . . and doesn't let Sissy carry it anymore. She does, however, show it off in pictures. ha. </div>
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It's really crazy the way I found her little school because we love it. As it turns out, it literally has everything we could have wanted in a school--and lots of things we didn't know we wanted/needed. It's a hippy dippy school where they don't believe in discipline but teaching kids how to handle themselves and their issues instead. They have a focus on Child Development and teach kids independence in a safe, loving environment. At school, Amelia gets to do all the things I cringe over at home--making huge messes playing with corn meal, painting poster-sized art, and creating shaving cream clouds. </div>
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They put this picture on the wall at school, all by itself with a little plaque with Amelia's name. It's still there. </div>
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I guess all I'm really trying to say is that we are so thrilled with Amelia's experience in preschool. She has blossomed, grown, and learned so very much in the care of the beautiful, loving, and kind teachers there. It is through her experience at preschool that she trusts adults and makes friends and looks forward to Kindergarten. And that she can keep a beat, dance in the middle of a circle, and identify her favorite color of apple. </div>
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It is during her time at preschool that Amelia Jane has gone from this </div>
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to this</div>
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And here she is today, her LAST day of preschool (which corresponded with a field trip to a Kindergarten class!) </div>
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I can't even believe the transformation of the last three years . . . or what the next three can possibly bring her way. </div>
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And even though all the signs were there, I did not anticipate her last day of preschool to hit me very hard. But of course it did. Like everything else, it seems. I just hope it's exciting for Amelia. I know she's a worrier by nature. I don't think she quite realizes that she won't be seeing her little peeps anymore because they're all going to different elementary schools. But I do think she's ready for a break from school for a while and a lot of Mommy time. This summer is all about getting ready for the big leagues. </div>
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Other pics from today . . . </div>
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Amelia's lunch, including dolphin-shaped sandwich, cookie, raspberries, Pirate's booty, and fun tag. </div>
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Teacher gifts! Okay, they're not all cookies, but you've got Kahlua bundt cakes, peanut butter chocolate chip bars, magic bars, and oatmeal white chocolate cookies. The adorable tag is a free printable found <a href="http://makebakecelebrate.com/smart-cookies-printable/">on this blog</a>. I printed them on full sheet labels, cut, and stuck them on the lids of the containers. It's a drop in the bucket of thanks owed to Amelia's awesome teachers. They are the women who've helped us raise her the last three years--such a crucial part of our village. </div>
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Meanwhile, we had to wake up super early today to get Amelia to school in time for the Kindergarten field trip. Annie was not okay with it. </div>
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She's not a morning baby, turns out. Seriously. She did this when we got home. </div>
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Then we went for a walk on our last day alone for the summer. </div>
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Thank goodness for this little Nugget! It's hard to believe that she'll be old enough to start preschool soon. . . </div>
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Congratulations Amelia! You are onto the next chapter, my sweet love. Heaven knows you rocked yourself some preschool! </div>
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Mama Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13971658133454513216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796966551079094452.post-61189905850666908152013-05-20T23:43:00.000-07:002013-05-21T07:24:40.094-07:00Dear Amelia, You turned 5 today. You are officially a big girl, school-aged, <i>five</i>. Even though I can hardly believe that you're not a baby sometimes, all I have to do is watch and listen to you just for a few minutes to see how grown you are. Your limbs are long, lean, and ever capable of the climbing, running, and jumping of 5-year-old splendor. Your little face, though still resembling the little baby I remember--the one I see when I close my eyes-- has lost its chubbiness and looks at me with deep intent--and sometimes serious attitude. Your voice, though still tiny, has more authority and purpose than ever, always recounting stories to the last detail, or asking the questions I would never consider.<br />
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You are kind and funny, serious and brilliant. Your ability to forgive and skip along through tough days is both inspiring and bewildering to me. How can you be so serious and so happy at the same time? Your openness with emotions and willingness to feel, really <i>feel</i> your own sadness, exhaustion, and frustration is not only my biggest struggle with you, but also something that I deeply admire in you.<br />
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Wouldn't we all move on easier if we could just crumble into a puddle of tears every once in a while? <br />
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As I watch you grow, I am increasingly impressed by and proud of you. I enjoy you more than ever, with our morning cuddle sessions, reading chapter books together, or singing in the car. Well, okay, only <i>I</i> sing in the car. You know all the words to your favorite songs, but refuse to sing out loud. I know that you're bubbly and fun and loving and social . . . but that your default is reserved, shy, modest, and careful. I wish you knew how much I can relate--and how much I hope you never try to change or apologize for this part of yourself.<br />
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You are breathtakingly beautiful . . . and don't care a single bit. You'd prefer short, easy hair to the long, flowy hair you associate with princesses. You take pride in putting together the funkiest outfits without a concern over conformity or acceptance.<br />
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Please don't let anyone change this about you.<br />
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Amelia, this year is going to be one of the biggest years of your life. Why? Because you are going to learn to read. You will be able to flip through your stories alone, saying the words instead of making up your own with the pictures. You will be able to pick up a new book and transport yourself into another world with exciting friends and to amazing places . . . and feel unbelievable connection to the pages you flip. I know this will transform you to the core of your existence. You are flowing with the imagination and curiosity and drama and desire of a voracious reader and I am beside myself waiting for you to experience the magic first hand. I know we'll lose you forever after to your books, but that's okay. We'll have so much to talk about too. I can hardly wait to share reading with you.<br />
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My favorite moment at your birthday party yesterday was when I looked over at you, surrounded by the chaos of 15 kids and their parents at a splash pool, and you were sitting on the concrete, alone, quietly reading a book from your friend. Totally oblivious to the party, <i>your</i> party happening around you, studying the pages intently, quietly. It made me smile because it was so you. You love your friends and had a blast at your party, but would be choose a warm spot on the patio with a book any day. <i>And you don't even read yet</i>. You of course had that Wonder Woman book memorized by the time you got home. So you.<br />
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I love how carefully studious and observant you are. I hate it too. When we 'borrowed' a couple of the gift bags from your party for your birthday presents this morning, the first thing you said, "these bags are from my birthday party!" I didn't even know that you'd noticed the bags! But of course you did. Because the reality is, Amelia dear, that you notice everything. You've been able to give direction to your favorite places since you were 2. You memorize puzzle pieces and entire movie scenes. You always know where my keys are. Or when I try to hide something. And when it seems like maybe something gets by you, you've cataloged it, thinking it over, only to bring it up later. Sometimes I swear I can see you storing information, processing. It's scary and impressive and crazy, annoying and awesome too.<br />
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From two pacifist, animal-loving parents, it's totally perplexing how much you like to kill things. When I explained what it's like to go fishing, your dad and I told you that you can release the fish back into the lake or eat it. You chose the latter option. So that scenario backfired. For such a sensitive, sweet little love, you are completely fascinated by dead things--little creatures from the yard, or scary, bloody zombies. Maybe this is weird, but I kinda love your little dark side. I love that you love to be scared and are drawn to creepy things without fear. Of course, it's hilarious considering how fearful you tend to be otherwise.<br />
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I love that you're a mixed bag. So tough and strong physically and without a competitive bone in your body. How easily you get hurt, but how easily you forgive. I love that you cry from the tiniest scratch on a knee but take the doctor's shots without blinking, insisting on watching the needle. I adore how loving and cuddly you've become but how independent you are too. I love that you have a huge sweet tooth for dessert "gessert" but that fruit disappears from your plate first at every meal. I can't help but giggle when you use grown up words and sentiments with child-like innocence.<br />
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Nothing makes my heart sing more than watching you as a sister. I'm convinced that you are the best big sister ever a baby sister could have. I've caught you protecting her on the playground, holding her during the sad scene of the movie, and sharing your birthday presents. I love that the only thing that can end our morning snuggles is Annie waking up--because as soon as you hear her, you run to her room. Every. Single. Morning. I melt watching you introduce her to your school friends or random kids at the park. You're such a proud, loving sister. You use kind words with her, help her with your shoes, and give her hugs when she cries. I can't help but think that your baby sister Annie is so lucky to be guided by you. We should all be so lucky to have a big sister like you, Amelia.<br />
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You really are an awesome girl.<br />
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You are my all-time favorite little kid. You are my light, Bug. You are my greatest lesson. You are my heart and you are my soul. And when it finally hit me that you were turning 5, I slid to the floor of the shower and cried big, sobbing, ugly tears. I think we are closer than ever now that you are such a big girl and I think you've gotten more fantastic each year and I look so forward to the changes in store for you this year. . . I really do, baby. But you know what? It just hurts sometimes. I don't want you to stay little forever and I can't wait to watch you grow, but I will still miss the littler you.<br />
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Happy Birthday sweet angel. I love you so. . . even if it hurts sometimes.<br />
<br />Mama Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13971658133454513216noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796966551079094452.post-85408125914817567632012-08-25T22:28:00.000-07:002012-08-25T22:28:03.155-07:00Olympic FeverI don’t know about you, but we got into the Olympics around here. Well, the girls and I did anyway. I relished in the opportunity to show both Amelia and Annie some seriously kick-ass women. I looked up the gymnastics, soccer, volleyball, and swimming events with women and DVR’ed them to show the girls during the day. Having grown up an athlete, I know how truly valuable sports are for young girls and how important it is to feel strong and powerful as a female. I really appreciate the Olympics for providing the best kind of chance to show the girls how awesome strong girls are! <br />
Amelia absolutely loved the gymnastics. Of course. I did too! We learned all about the girl gymnasts and called them by name. Just like the rest of the country, she was mesmerized by their talent. <br />
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“She’s AMAZING.” Amelia whispered watching Gabby Douglas vault. <br />
It was a solid 10 minutes that she watched the first gymnastics heat before she was inspired. The next thing I know, she’d put a blanket on the floor and was using it as her own vault. She’d run across the living room, put her hands down on the blanket, and . . . throw herself on the floor. <br />
I really shouldn’t even try to explain it. <br />
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Annie served the part as supportive sister, who’d clap when Amelia was done. Both hilarious and sweet. But not to be outdone, Annie wanted in on the action. <br />
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She has tricks too.
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Golden. <br />
<br />Mama Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13971658133454513216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796966551079094452.post-5329767300463144822012-08-25T21:14:00.001-07:002012-08-25T21:57:08.711-07:0050 Things About Annie at 12 Months<br />
*Note: I started this right after Annie’s birthday and just now posting. Some of these things have changed and I’ve noted the updates below. <br />
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1. Though born into the 90th percentile for size, she is now in the 39th for weight (19 pounds, 1 ounce). <br />
2. She is 29 inches long, ten inches longer than she was at birth. (43rd percentile)<br />
3. She has a smile reserved just for mischief. <br />
<a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-GVcWevdTzic/UDmik6tXdmI/AAAAAAAACxI/tpaPMJKeTII/s1600-h/0023.jpg"><img alt="002" border="0" height="293" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-k1njCL81pyM/UDmilDWhHnI/AAAAAAAACxQ/FrpoSuyqJzE/002_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; display: inline;" title="002" width="293" /></a><br />
4. She is a smart ass, already trying to get others to laugh. <br />
5. She hates milk of any kind, in any form, at any temperature, with any flavoring added. Except breast milk. <i>UPDATE: She likes Vanilla Almond Milk! Slowly mixing it with regular milk. </i><br />
6. She’s still nursing. :/ <i>UPDATE: She’s totally weaned! No issues whatsoever! :D </i><br />
7. Annie sleeps with a glow worm given to me by a student the semester I was pregnant. <br />
8. She does not like being changed. <br />
9. She pulled herself into the tub, going over the edge head first. When I found her, she was sitting in the there smiling the above smile. <br />
10. She tries to climb on and get into <i>every</i>thing. (note the smile)<br />
<a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-WclI-2sPLeM/UDmilwwA8PI/AAAAAAAACxY/xGSVFseGZn8/s1600-h/DSCN45283.jpg"><img alt="DSCN4528" border="0" height="264" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-AVpHc8-7eP0/UDmimST9RPI/AAAAAAAACxg/i4SdbvHyUjQ/DSCN4528_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; display: inline;" title="DSCN4528" width="351" /></a> <br />
11. She pulls on her hair when she’s tired. <br />
12. When she’s pulling on her hair, she makes a distinct noise, “uhhhhhhhhhhhh.” She also makes this noise when she plays with anyone else’s hair. Pulling hair is the only time she makes this noise. <br />
13. She says a few words, like hi, hey, Dada, and Mama. She also has a word for dog, naturally. When she says hi, it’s “Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii” and “Heeeeyyyyyyyyyy” <br />
14. She giggles when I make voices at story time. <br />
15. When Annie gets excited, she squeals, gasps, and pants like a dog. <br />
16. She loves to climb into her sister’s bed and to play in Amelia’s room. <br />
17. She is starting to play with a fork and spoon at meal time, pretending to eat with them. <br />
18. She loves spicy foods. <br />
19. She doesn’t love making signs with her hands to communicate, but it’s usually pretty obvious what she wants. <br />
20. She has a goofy grin that she flashes just to be silly. <br />
<a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-m7jYX3UeZqw/UDminA2tATI/AAAAAAAACxo/E_NaIBjHnqg/s1600-h/DSCN42293.jpg"><img alt="DSCN4229" border="0" height="240" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-NdW_k4r0wpE/UDminlmD3gI/AAAAAAAACxw/CvcS6uE9xyg/DSCN4229_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; display: inline;" title="DSCN4229" width="318" /></a> <br />
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21. She ditches her friends to get close to the camera. ha<br />
<a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-rFQQkshZRCU/UDmioFNKs4I/AAAAAAAACx4/TABGOIMlWm0/s1600-h/DSCN42343.jpg"><img alt="DSCN4234" border="0" height="236" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-blmyNo0b5Ro/UDmiouQkMnI/AAAAAAAACyA/TC0Ui64Ko28/DSCN4234_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; display: inline;" title="DSCN4234" width="313" /></a> <br />
22. She has the same expression as her sister when people sing “Happy Birthday to her”<br />
<a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-e2smZBqftrM/UDmipc9cnoI/AAAAAAAACyI/Q81Q7QQep8s/s1600-h/DSCN45685.jpg"><img alt="DSCN4568" border="0" height="345" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-XzPi-Iw5SNk/UDmip-f2ihI/AAAAAAAACyQ/2_bkwsbTrIk/DSCN4568_thumb3.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-top-width: 0px; display: inline;" title="DSCN4568" width="260" /></a><br />
23. When she’s tired, Annie puts her head on my shoulder and tucks her arms under her chest. <br />
24. She loves to dance.<br />
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25. She has 8 teeth. <br />
26. She loves, loves, loves blowing raspberries not just for fun but also in context when she dislikes something. <br />
27. When she’s done eating, Annie very quietly holds her arm to her side and drops pieces of food to the floor. When you tell her to stop, she raises one eyebrow, smiles a tiny little grin . . . and drops it and starts giggling. <br />
28. She is the fastest crawling baby I’ve ever seen. <br />
29. She loves to be chased <br />
30. She’s a good sleeper. <br />
31. She is a trooper of troopers and can go longer past bedtime without melting down than . . . another little girl. <br />
32. She hates shoes. <br />
33. And refuses to have anything in her hair. <br />
34. She walks.<br />
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35. Amelia is her favorite person and Annie squeals and laughs at everything Amelia does. <br />
<a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-SqYi3KCaUko/UDmiqdB2n8I/AAAAAAAACyY/YKlCD3dUYAw/s1600-h/021%25255B2%25255D.jpg"><img alt="021" border="0" height="244" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-u8Q2fsXIpuQ/UDmiqmddQ8I/AAAAAAAACyg/ZY89klLyPYw/021_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; border-right: 0px; border-top: 0px; display: inline;" title="021" width="244" /></a><br />
36. She cannot be trusted with goldfish because she’ll shovel ten in her mouth and try to keep them in her cheeks. <br />
37. She mostly grunts and points when she wants to talk. <br />
38. She runs, yelling “DADADADADA” when Justin gets home from work. <br />
39. And only says “Mama” when she’s angry or upset, “MA-MMMAAAAAAAAAAA!” <br />
40. Next to Amelia, Mollie and Luke are Annie’s favorites. <br />
41. She sleeps either in fetal position or sprawled out on her back. <br />
42. She has hardly any fear. And I’ve already caught her standing on chairs. <br />
43. She does not love going to bed. <br />
44. She thinks she’s totally charming. <br />
<img height="359" src="http://sphotos-b.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ash3/559036_4072884934427_486205262_n.jpg" width="359" /><br />
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45. Pancakes are her favorite. <br />
46. She almost always insists on eating whatever is on my plate. <br />
47. She is a complete smart-ass. <br />
48. She’ll stop crying to giggle if you try to make her laugh. <br />
49. She loves hugs and kisses. <br />
50. She cries when we tell her No. Mama Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13971658133454513216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796966551079094452.post-87475238879045472412012-07-13T23:54:00.001-07:002012-07-13T23:54:30.352-07:00A year gone<p>When Amelia was a baby, I kept my eye on her first birthday like a sprinter eyes the finish line. It was always in my sight, always my goal. Make it through the first year. Get to the finish line. Keep a steady pace. Don’t. Stop. Running. The summer after Amelia’s first birthday was like one long, triumphant victory lap. From there forward, every time I’d see a mom or parents with a baby, I’d think to myself, “Haha SUCKER! My kid’s ONE. I made it to the other side. Alive, dammit!” And I’d pity them with their drooly, sleepless monster. </p> <p>And then on July 12, there was Annie. </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-XYLui7lAqx0/UAEXmIMq6TI/AAAAAAAACwE/s-2XAMETkXY/s1600-h/DSCN30703.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="DSCN3070" border="0" alt="DSCN3070" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-FMD9bJXasfc/UAEXmUXK2TI/AAAAAAAACwM/JtH7YJLmC10/DSCN3070_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="369" height="278" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p>And we began our love story. </p> <p>That sounds silly or melodramatic I know. But only through Annie’s babyhood, did I begin to heal from Amelia’s. Annie slept 4 hours straight <em>in the hospital</em> and then for 9-hour blocks once we were home. She fell asleep willingly, easily. She nursed quickly, efficiently and smiled socially at 2 weeks. She cried in the arms of anyone else and settled happily with me—every single time. She’d nurse in bed with me in the pre-dawn hours and snuggle into my body and fall back asleep. For hours. She rolled over at two weeks (!!), sat up at 4.5 months, and took off on her hands and knees by 7 months. She took her first steps the day before her birthday. Everything on time. She turned away mashed and pureed baby foods in preference for adult food straight from Mama’s plate at 6 months. She stayed healthy and we only took her to the doctor ONE time for illness. She’s never taken medication, formula, or a special diet. Everything on time or ahead. </p> <p>As a newborn, she’d cry every evening uncontrollably. I’d put her in my carrier and walk around the neighborhood with her on my chest. She’d be quiet by the time we got to the end of the driveway, watching the trees, and settling in to sleep by the end of the block. Yes, she cried, but it was predictable, and most shockingly for us, <em>fixable</em> too. Always fixable. Always knowing that I could soothe here was revelatory for me. After that newborn phase, she hardly cried ever and always because she was provoked and always fixable. I took her to Amelia’s gymnastics class every week from the time she was 10 weeks old and the other moms always remarked that they’d never heard her cry. She’d just sit in my lap, happy, laughing, playing. I never worried about taking her anywhere or being out past her nap or bed time because she didn't fall apart or meltdown. I could take her with me to coffee with a friend without sweating it a bit. She’d get tired and fall asleep in my arms, wake up, and smile contentedly in my lap until we left. </p> <p>She only ever got up in the night once to nurse and then would sleep in. Even during the 3 am feeding, when I looked at her, she'd catch my eye and begin to smile and laugh, sending milk spraying and me scolding through a smile. She was just . . . <em>happy.</em> All of the time. Predictable and flexible, cuddly and loving. And with the best smile ever. <em>Ever. </em></p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-TVCuhHLV5TQ/UAEXm-gn4CI/AAAAAAAACwU/1tU4sKECFvs/s1600-h/015%252520%2525282%252529%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="015 (2)" border="0" alt="015 (2)" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-nac1aNTh4Ag/UAEXnTd8nyI/AAAAAAAACwc/a3tq1HHWBiM/015%252520%2525282%252529_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="303" height="303" /></a> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-COwrVvJ6cN4/UAEXn8Tuk1I/AAAAAAAACwk/2uvMS1gKO9o/s1600-h/036%252520%2525282%252529%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="036 (2)" border="0" alt="036 (2)" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-7y82M7VDmYI/UAEXoUGJ5wI/AAAAAAAACws/rJgmpqc9C24/036%252520%2525282%252529_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="312" height="312" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p>She can be relied upon for a solid 2 naps a day and when she wakes up, she sits in bed gabbing and laughing until someone goes in to get her. Everyone who spends an hour with her falls in love. They say things like “SO sweet,” “melt your heart,” “easiest baby!” And I always have to chuckle because they’re talking about <em>my </em>baby. When her first tooth came in (on her 7 month-day!), she had a couple restless nights. And that’s it. Very little fanfare and then there were teeth. If a stranger catches her eye, she waves and smiles, her whole face exploding in happy-ness until they have no choice but to melt into a reel of silly faces and noises. </p> <p>Rather than an a victorious yet treacherous obstacle course finish line, her birthday just kind of . . . arrived. Much to me own ignorance and denial. I still think of her as my little, teeny baby, even as I see her toddling around me. Even when I catch her playing in the toilet or <em>having climbed into the bathtub</em>, or in the dishwasher, I still think of her as the easiest baby ever and my sweet little angel. </p> <p> Just as my love for Amelia was fierce and protective, heavy and rebellious because of her painful problems, my love for Annie is sweet and giggly, soft and enamored because of her mellow normalness. It’s only been through Annie’s first year that I have managed to grieve and reconcile Amelia’s first year. It is literally through mothering her that I have recovered. Having Annie has made me understand why people love babies. Sucking on her cheeks and getting huge, sloppy kisses have made me inclined to the drooly, raspberry blowing baby-folk. And now that she’s one, I shall look at people with tiny babies and think, ‘damn. I wish I had one too.’ </p> <p> </p> <p>Happy birthday sweet angel baby. You have been the apple to my pie, milk to my cookies, the Annie to my Amelia . . .  </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-ttzjg33GAWA/UAEXo5yL3EI/AAAAAAAACw0/QRmpTYrUOsI/s1600-h/Annie%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="Annie" border="0" alt="Annie" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-CA0T-CI1Qrk/UAEXpZZmMbI/AAAAAAAACw8/R0b6dkVPIBU/Annie_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="335" height="335" /></a> </p> <p>and it is impossible for me to love you any more.</p> Mama Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13971658133454513216noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796966551079094452.post-9151955812174708322012-05-20T23:03:00.001-07:002012-05-20T23:03:26.381-07:00Go Fourth<p align="left">Despite the fact that I can barely hold my eyes open for a minute, I have to mark the day. THE DAY. It’s the fourth anniversary of the <a href="http://talesofamelia.blogspot.com/2009/05/how-she-got-here.html">day Amelia was born</a> and the day I became a mom. Amelia’s fourth birthday. FOURTH BIRTHDAY! It’s kind of crazy really. Things have been so hectic that I haven’t had much chance to think about it much or figure out how I feel about my little baby girl being such a big kid. Since last Sunday alone, we’ve crammed about 6 months worth of illness, stress, work, and general busyness including but not limited to finishing up a rough semester AND leaving for a week long vacation the next day. Add sickness, birthday, and a nice root canal and you’ve got about half of the craziness of our week. Never mind the midnight pukefest the night before we left for vacation for Amelia, and um, the BABY that just adds to life’s insanity . . . but I digress. </p> <p align="left">Because it’s Amelia’s birthday! yay! My baby girl is just turning into such a big girl. In any case, it was a little unusual this year because we are actually out of town right now, on the real day. Even though she’s now 4 and in the height of birthday party appreciation, we figured a week at the beach is much better. Always. </p> <p align="left">It was a pretty big day. And even though we are away from home, we did our best to make it extra special. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-KLdh7O9P74g/T7nXkHBsjVI/AAAAAAAACpQ/evcnqtEfe0E/s1600-h/image%25255B4%25255D.png"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="image" border="0" alt="image" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-KYnyOA3JT5k/T7nXmd40BeI/AAAAAAAACpY/AExdkkAGcKM/image_thumb%25255B2%25255D.png?imgmax=800" width="274" height="363" /></a> </p> <p align="left">Complete with cupcake liner streamers. In addition to cheery decorations, there were also some presents waiting . . . </p> <p align="left"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-dwhdUwE6WhA/T7nXn7ObpCI/AAAAAAAACpg/XdVW3hIFnOg/s1600-h/DSCN4322%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="DSCN4322" border="0" alt="DSCN4322" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-MMWmrGoEg0M/T7nXoUPtHiI/AAAAAAAACpo/VClV8joRBiI/DSCN4322_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="375" height="282" /></a></p> <p align="left">Followed by a pancake breakfast, Annie’s nap, and then . . . </p> <p align="left"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-CLgLi0APvZk/T7nXpYPy3XI/AAAAAAAACpw/D9eQjhZDrUw/s1600-h/DSCN4338%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="DSCN4338" border="0" alt="DSCN4338" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-uKETE7z0cng/T7nXq-RgV0I/AAAAAAAACp4/q0EsHnC55Hw/DSCN4338_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="364" height="383" /></a>Beach Day! Amelia is a beach baby. That’s all there is to it. She’s been asking every second since an hour <em>before</em> we arrived to go to the beach and even on the shortest walks to the sand, she just kind of drifts . . . towards the water. It pulls her in. There is some kind of soulful connection she has with the ocean because she can’t stay away and it so clearly calls to her. </p> <p align="left">it was a fun afternoon ocean side. Amelia pretty much stayed in the water the whole time, save for a short lunch/sand-play break. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Vep20e0CL-M/T7nXvxSY2iI/AAAAAAAACqA/BJrGP6Bm5SY/s1600-h/image%25255B35%25255D.png"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="image" border="0" alt="image" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-As4CrkuT9Ys/T7nXx7L2syI/AAAAAAAACqI/1h-AH3My36c/image_thumb%25255B13%25255D.png?imgmax=800" width="379" height="285" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Lw16zX_sDIc/T7nX2lTzv6I/AAAAAAAACqQ/Snn5EibrW2E/s1600-h/image%25255B36%25255D.png"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="image" border="0" alt="image" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-cY7R4qD_5cY/T7nX4z3S2xI/AAAAAAAACqY/285CNeOZy5M/image_thumb%25255B14%25255D.png?imgmax=800" width="379" height="285" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-YPIIR_Q7ePg/T7nX9j0M6hI/AAAAAAAACqg/vveK8zhMJIQ/s1600-h/image%25255B37%25255D.png"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="image" border="0" alt="image" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-mudM1z3IfQw/T7nYAmIoPNI/AAAAAAAACqo/2kmjeJKcWcw/image_thumb%25255B15%25255D.png?imgmax=800" width="377" height="284" /></a> </p> <p align="left">Annie loved the beach too. Sister Love. Heart. </p> <p align="center"> <a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-l_-VlAC8G2E/T7nYGdHZ58I/AAAAAAAACqw/MUiB4NHW35E/s1600-h/image%25255B38%25255D.png"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="image" border="0" alt="image" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-xoiUH11X3UM/T7nYI1dquXI/AAAAAAAACq4/UYfIaFd_HLg/image_thumb%25255B16%25255D.png?imgmax=800" width="373" height="281" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ZzIbqQu09s4/T7nYO90YvSI/AAAAAAAACrA/ZG432SQxNQs/s1600-h/image%25255B39%25255D.png"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="image" border="0" alt="image" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Lhf9yxF68Yc/T7nYRsYCOAI/AAAAAAAACrI/CC__cdz1cRM/image_thumb%25255B17%25255D.png?imgmax=800" width="375" height="282" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-zrULcA5lph8/T7nYXJSULzI/AAAAAAAACrQ/rsmNAn4qBRo/s1600-h/image%25255B40%25255D.png"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="image" border="0" alt="image" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-oAMnMk3vDYU/T7nYZpUwqXI/AAAAAAAACrY/a1WGSqbd20o/image_thumb%25255B18%25255D.png?imgmax=800" width="374" height="282" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-kzDiv2nUdM8/T7nYg-ekJOI/AAAAAAAACrg/-PYnrjQ1yZw/s1600-h/image%25255B41%25255D.png"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="image" border="0" alt="image" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-rNa-ajAgTME/T7nYjbV9OhI/AAAAAAAACro/thEF9lFL-x4/image_thumb%25255B19%25255D.png?imgmax=800" width="381" height="287" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-T_cwkGwvjk8/T7nYos9sk0I/AAAAAAAACrw/yIRuMAu78rc/s1600-h/image%25255B42%25255D.png"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="image" border="0" alt="image" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-9npd5YZiAl4/T7nYrJYltII/AAAAAAAACr4/j7ZPw8ZzYXo/image_thumb%25255B20%25255D.png?imgmax=800" width="382" height="288" /></a> </p> <p align="left">Then we got ready for a pizza party with friends. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-s2us17ZQQL8/T7nYuOfjCSI/AAAAAAAACsA/wywWxH37VUc/s1600-h/image%25255B43%25255D.png"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="image" border="0" alt="image" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-A7jBZbXkcrc/T7nYvyh71TI/AAAAAAAACsI/BQoUVSrIHYs/image_thumb%25255B21%25255D.png?imgmax=800" width="270" height="358" /></a> </p> <p align="left">Complete with wings and ribbons. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-x2fN0rWfxnU/T7nYzlae_oI/AAAAAAAACsQ/cX7eMIJi_Wg/s1600-h/image%25255B44%25255D.png"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="image" border="0" alt="image" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ju2RuDzB6xM/T7nY2EzzIXI/AAAAAAAACsY/1QQqW0ab0BM/image_thumb%25255B22%25255D.png?imgmax=800" width="272" height="362" /></a> </p> <p align="left">Met our friends Megan, Molly, and Lola for pizza. Molly is Amelia’s dear friend and the two of them are quite the pair. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-CnDYtwYpXzI/T7nY8Gmv_CI/AAAAAAAACsg/DviiHuobqtA/s1600-h/image%25255B48%25255D.png"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="image" border="0" alt="image" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-OF6Pe2iiaoU/T7nY-GxzhlI/AAAAAAAACso/s5p-ICsajLM/image_thumb%25255B24%25255D.png?imgmax=800" width="359" height="270" /></a> </p> <p align="left">Nice photo bomb, Annie! </p> <p align="left">Speaking of Annie, she LOVES birthday parties.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-E3r1LfUXkfM/T7nZDZY1FtI/AAAAAAAACsw/C7PcQ75kptE/s1600-h/image%25255B52%25255D.png"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="image" border="0" alt="image" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-GzsZ4kQZuKA/T7nZFRS3wSI/AAAAAAAACs4/HuKR2lUJPUA/image_thumb%25255B26%25255D.png?imgmax=800" width="367" height="276" /></a> </p> <p align="left">After pizza, it was back to our beach house for cake! </p> <p align="left">What kind of cake, you ask? </p> <p align="left">Ice cream cone cupcakes! Too fun. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-f13_64KM5Sc/T7nZK_oAGDI/AAAAAAAACtA/n_UZ2w81ONU/s1600-h/image%25255B56%25255D.png"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="image" border="0" alt="image" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-LEMHMm_rZ4o/T7nZOpYgZoI/AAAAAAAACtI/WFgqp7c-2Jk/image_thumb%25255B28%25255D.png?imgmax=800" width="412" height="310" /></a> </p> <p align="left">Amelia’s quiet, excited smile as we sang. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-gZb4ziCoU0E/T7nZUUYhoHI/AAAAAAAACtQ/H63HSCHMIo0/s1600-h/image%25255B60%25255D.png"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="image" border="0" alt="image" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-cBDx-zncXaI/T7nZXDiyE2I/AAAAAAAACtY/_MlbruQapwM/image_thumb%25255B30%25255D.png?imgmax=800" width="395" height="297" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-ZdSVpuXpYe0/T7nZdhAAc0I/AAAAAAAACtg/jdvOyw5METU/s1600-h/image%25255B64%25255D.png"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="image" border="0" alt="image" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Q0DbHACKdhg/T7nZgWbAhcI/AAAAAAAACto/k1KVm-Xlti0/image_thumb%25255B32%25255D.png?imgmax=800" width="385" height="290" /></a> </p> <p align="center">Cheers!</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-W--JuBvJib0/T7nZlroFg2I/AAAAAAAACtw/dl7TiWXc7e0/s1600-h/image%25255B69%25255D.png"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="image" border="0" alt="image" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-37dwFTXKg1U/T7nZofFeFMI/AAAAAAAACt4/pWVGoiAx7vs/image_thumb%25255B35%25255D.png?imgmax=800" width="407" height="306" /></a> </p> <p align="center">Hand puppet ROAR!</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-1ZFYl17LQ00/T7nZuIwr1WI/AAAAAAAACuA/SI-fCGwNa6I/s1600-h/image%25255B74%25255D.png"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="image" border="0" alt="image" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-p-JFyaaaPjk/T7nZwgyIwvI/AAAAAAAACuI/tiR_IXsEoE8/image_thumb%25255B38%25255D.png?imgmax=800" width="394" height="296" /></a> </p> <p align="left">Busted! Annie eye-balling Amelia’s cupcake. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-CIxHBJ1qFq4/T7nZ3dsm1BI/AAAAAAAACuQ/AYR9B-ucqa8/s1600-h/image%25255B81%25255D.png"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="image" border="0" alt="image" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-MWILfduIJiU/T7nZ59aN9QI/AAAAAAAACuY/gMUk9s877Gk/image_thumb%25255B43%25255D.png?imgmax=800" width="385" height="291" /></a> </p> <p align="center">Friends. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-inAeYG82o9g/T7nZ_U9rGzI/AAAAAAAACug/xKSg7xb--Ok/s1600-h/image%25255B85%25255D.png"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="image" border="0" alt="image" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-cUVaZuMkOr8/T7naB6uSm5I/AAAAAAAACuo/-scAJM4TZxk/image_thumb%25255B45%25255D.png?imgmax=800" width="379" height="285" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Mx9aDj-XNgs/T7naG6jMMOI/AAAAAAAACuw/cqAr0Z6ow-8/s1600-h/image%25255B89%25255D.png"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="image" border="0" alt="image" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-VDmMBLXj7yo/T7naJMoIBvI/AAAAAAAACu4/2Xw6GB5oFEs/image_thumb%25255B47%25255D.png?imgmax=800" width="371" height="279" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-mI563FSo5Eg/T7naPB1-TPI/AAAAAAAACvA/Esr5k9JtJrM/s1600-h/image%25255B93%25255D.png"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="image" border="0" alt="image" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-SvH_p5mMvXw/T7naRf0nUII/AAAAAAAACvI/bL1CoYKpmQQ/image_thumb%25255B49%25255D.png?imgmax=800" width="362" height="272" /></a> </p> <p align="center">  <a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-LBLuqn_xVFM/T7naX_myUnI/AAAAAAAACvQ/RLoKoM9WyJ0/s1600-h/image%25255B97%25255D.png"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="image" border="0" alt="image" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-gV1aTStzZpg/T7naZz9Wn0I/AAAAAAAACvY/XgDcBpvxXDM/image_thumb%25255B51%25255D.png?imgmax=800" width="373" height="281" /></a> </p> <p align="center">Strong girls! </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-FnrtenFPUTw/T7nafTlqmmI/AAAAAAAACvg/vpZnbFagRFM/s1600-h/image%25255B102%25255D.png"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="image" border="0" alt="image" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-bOchAY2muNU/T7naiFhTZII/AAAAAAAACvo/_isW9kCkdjw/image_thumb%25255B54%25255D.png?imgmax=800" width="398" height="300" /></a> </p> <p align="center">Beautiful <strike>Baby</strike>  Girl.</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-AJXKy3XIOvc/T7naoNZxmmI/AAAAAAAACvw/MfFqGt0OR_k/s1600-h/image%25255B109%25255D.png"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="image" border="0" alt="image" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-PDmYk1kL5Dw/T7narOGprMI/AAAAAAAACv4/HSuehXqim0w/image_thumb%25255B57%25255D.png?imgmax=800" width="414" height="312" /></a> </p> <p>I’m so glad she was born. I am so glad she is exactly her. Because she is pretty amazing. </p> <p align="left">Happy Birthday Sweet Love. Thank you for making me a mama. Your mama. Because I’ve never loved a single thing more. </p> Mama Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13971658133454513216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796966551079094452.post-33632410753847973462012-04-27T22:53:00.003-07:002012-04-27T22:53:31.899-07:00Frickin Adorable Friday<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sK7NY2hi0ac/T5uFsgK4LxI/AAAAAAAACpE/KZFUoEHV6Jo/s1600/RSCN4197.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sK7NY2hi0ac/T5uFsgK4LxI/AAAAAAAACpE/KZFUoEHV6Jo/s400/RSCN4197.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Mama Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13971658133454513216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796966551079094452.post-65421459471550282972012-04-25T23:04:00.000-07:002012-04-25T23:04:27.228-07:00Shenanigans<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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If you've ever wondered what it's like at our house, it's a lot of this.Mama Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13971658133454513216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796966551079094452.post-54372656014763824092012-04-25T22:57:00.001-07:002012-04-25T22:57:02.599-07:00In and Out<p> So I waited to post Annie’s 9 month pics until I had her stats from the doctor. The plan was to talk about how much she’s grown and I was going to plop down her weight in a glowing moment of breastfeeding triumph. And then I took her to the doctor today and the babychild has dropped down to the 25th percentile in weight (17 lbs 12 ozs) and 41st percentile (27.5”) height. . . what? WHAT? W H A T? </p> <p>Okay, in the big scheme of things, it’s not a big deal. I know this. Just like the pedi said, she’s not skinny or underweight. I mean, she’s not a tiny baby or anything. </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-24_6iCcm4Pc/T5jjimzSuoI/AAAAAAAACmM/NdfJrG-HNJs/s1600-h/DSCN3984%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="DSCN3984" border="0" alt="DSCN3984" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-m87S0L-pk-U/T5jjjHMPE5I/AAAAAAAACmU/-kWmTUds528/DSCN3984_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="391" height="294" /></a></p> <p></p> <p>I mean, she’s the picture of health. (And absolute adorable-ness, no?) I know that her weight and growth are not medical emergencies or any indication of failure on my part. I know that there are small babies. I know all that. I KNOW IT. But DANG. I thought Annie was going to be that chubbalicious baby. She was HUGE at birth and I so reveled in how big she was, just as I’d worried about how little Amelia was. (Interesting fact, Amelia was bigger at 9 mos than Annie) And now that I’m looking at the above picture (please try to look at without smiling—impossible), I can see that she is a little juicy nugget. . . but the confession is that I was totally disappointed. GAH. I feel like I feed her ALL THE TIME. I’ve finally been able to carve some freedom for myself by cutting out a couple nursing sessions now that she’s eating regular foods, but I’m going to have to add another back. I just don’t want to worry about her weight or worry about her losing weight. It makes sense that her weight has slowed down because she’s moving around so much and constantly in motion now that she crawls . . . but I certainly don’t want her to lost weight or drop off the chart. </p> <p>Our little runt. . . </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-nxcQIhB1D_M/T5jjj0_EnJI/AAAAAAAACmc/Rtxb1I0YgJY/s1600-h/DSCN4185%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="DSCN4185" border="0" alt="DSCN4185" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-j4_rzkJtemU/T5jjkfp9UKI/AAAAAAAACmk/F1Gd9-PdmmU/DSCN4185_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="431" height="324" /></a> </p> <p></p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-w-BZg6ijxb4/T5jjk0MB6-I/AAAAAAAACms/DOlYRJR8uJA/s1600-h/DSCN4188%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="DSCN4188" border="0" alt="DSCN4188" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-HlUwLNT4piU/T5jjlFxJIrI/AAAAAAAACm0/SUkljMkztrc/DSCN4188_thumb%25255B7%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="274" height="294" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Pjbm7lkKRZI/T5jjlydHh-I/AAAAAAAACm8/VuiaMW5E1ow/s1600-h/DSCN4189%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="DSCN4189" border="0" alt="DSCN4189" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-XhJNu_YNpg8/T5jjmHPjgUI/AAAAAAAACnE/uF-CHeptHsg/DSCN4189_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="271" height="360" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p>  While I was taking these pictures, she (of course) started wriggling away . . . </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-g_4ZYeEl6UM/T5jjmkM0vbI/AAAAAAAACnM/bscfkvH0Djw/s1600-h/DSCN4191%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="DSCN4191" border="0" alt="DSCN4191" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-9r3vPT5aR7I/T5jjm2kUFnI/AAAAAAAACnU/2Qw-4lArbLM/DSCN4191_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="332" height="250" /></a>And in just a tiny second, she was like this . </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-8zmZiHzg4Xw/T5jjnkfnu-I/AAAAAAAACnc/FSzCkfFFMV4/s1600-h/DSCN4192%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="DSCN4192" border="0" alt="DSCN4192" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-0FYx-j5lKck/T5jjn50eUYI/AAAAAAAACnk/8fIijEQ_8sg/DSCN4192_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="333" height="443" /></a></p> <p>I’m glad I had the camera—that was first time she’s done that! As you can tell, she was pretty proud of herself. Over the past month, she’s starting pushing herself to sitting position on her own. I walked into her room one morning to find her sitting up and screaming. She had no idea what to do with herself. As soon as I said, “Look at you!” and started clapping, she smiled and celebrated too.  Less than a week later, I found her standing in her crib! Also screaming then because she was stuck and really didn’t know what to do with herself. lol. Down her crib mattress went to the lower level seeing as her progress appears to come quickly. I haven’t found her standing up again, but she is definitely pulling up on things. When I stand her up in the crib, it’s complete celebration on her part. </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-hlnxKoNf1zU/T5jjo0IUDSI/AAAAAAAACnw/2UaiqNtziXc/s1600-h/DSCN4203%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="DSCN4203" border="0" alt="DSCN4203" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-4uwldHDgxfY/T5jjpVFZzVI/AAAAAAAACn4/yJf5DV4qzYs/DSCN4203_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="389" height="293" /></a></p> <p>Seriously. She celebrates and celebrates. </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-rAGI2wWdCOc/T5jjp1r8snI/AAAAAAAACoA/AHIB61iiQDY/s1600-h/DSCN4207%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="DSCN4207" border="0" alt="DSCN4207" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-pmU9Zv_kcxo/T5jjqeafsYI/AAAAAAAACoI/Q4uv5i1CUZ8/DSCN4207_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="366" height="276" /></a></p> <p> Sometimes she celebrates so much that she slaps the crib rail and loses her balance. lol</p> <p>All the same, standing on her own and against everything she grabs is just around the corner. Sitting still in mama’s lap is over and chasing the dogs, her sister, and toys is her thing. The big question for me these days is how soon will she walk? With Amelia, every milestone came on slowly and with much fanfare. Annie, on the other hand, just kind of does things and keeps going. There’s not a lot of warning with her progressions. Will she walk before her birthday?? I wonder. </p> <p>At 9 months old, Annie is a little character. Probably the biggest part of her personality is how much she laughs. The kid thinks everything is just HILARIOUS. And everything her SISTER does is downright criminal in its humor. All you have to do is raise your eyebrows at Annie and she giggles. Or have Amelia say/do just about anything, and she’s in stitches. She finds happiness in the little things and shows her excitement readily. For example, when she’s eating something that she loves, she celebrates after every bite. She is not reserved with her happiness at all and I love that. I LOVE that. It’s easy to make Annie happy and excited and that is fabulous. It never get old, watching her bounce in her highchair every time she gets a graham cracker. </p> <p>The second probably most prevalent part of Annie’s personality is her attachment to the Mama. That’s me! ha. This babygirl loves her mama. LOVES her mama. Without exaggeration, I can tell you that when I return home from working for a few hours, I open the door, and Annie bursts into tears. Every. Time. When I run to the bathroom to pee and change out of my work clothes (read: change out of my exhausted bra), she bawls huge, drippy tears. I have to literally run and change and run back to her and scoop her up. And then she’s quiet and smiling. Even with her dad whom she adores she gets cranky for mommy. And then once in my lap, quiet and happy. I know babies like that can be annoying to everyone else because nobody likes the baby who cries when anybody-but-mom holds them, but I’m mostly okay with it. :) I mean, there’s nothing wrong with a baby loving her mama, is there? *snicker*  In the morning (usually around 530), I bring her into bed with me to nurse and sometimes she just curls up against me and falls back asleep. With her mama. And even though I can never go back to sleep when she’s in bed with me, I relish the warmth of her little body against me and the sound of her breathing against my chest and I revel in the fact that we fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. It’s pretty obvious that we are totally smitten with each other. And I have no plans for a change. </p> <p>I have other pictures to post too, but it’s late and heaven knows my little alarm clock doesn’t really care if I go to bed late or early, if it’s Monday or Saturday. She’s consistent like that. </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-2OwganqLWUg/T5jjqwlFc1I/AAAAAAAACoQ/XExEDEsKg1c/s1600-h/DSCN4202%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="DSCN4202" border="0" alt="DSCN4202" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-aQE63D6IYCQ/T5jjrflF0yI/AAAAAAAACoY/PhElSjlcBf0/DSCN4202_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="366" height="276" /></a></p> Mama Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13971658133454513216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796966551079094452.post-34009204182191949802012-04-04T21:36:00.001-07:002012-04-04T21:36:19.098-07:00Wordless Wednesday: spring break<p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-BjDWv_aBQm8/T30hK-3XjwI/AAAAAAAACkI/JcgEklNQcR0/s1600-h/005%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="005" border="0" alt="005" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-tx9R4XyY7Cc/T30hLc0zM6I/AAAAAAAACkQ/kxRh4rP8-YE/005_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="344" height="344" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ssidUV-VMNA/T30hMCDl46I/AAAAAAAACkY/zvwoyyDm_vM/s1600-h/006%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="006" border="0" alt="006" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-MP602l_TvFY/T30hNMD4m6I/AAAAAAAACkg/dbd1g7JDKz0/006_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="348" height="348" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Jy8gDKjygu8/T30hN2aHbnI/AAAAAAAACko/EM-kNNAnY5A/s1600-h/008%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="008" border="0" alt="008" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-hLSb1oQOTzA/T30hOfo_TbI/AAAAAAAACkw/GQYR1YZ9W1s/008_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="321" height="321" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-KVy6EWSjkCI/T30hPEChXXI/AAAAAAAACk4/wrPTt77m7f0/s1600-h/010%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="010" border="0" alt="010" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-TOr5BbnS5_I/T30hPn3okHI/AAAAAAAAClA/Ia-sBRCmBT0/010_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="336" height="336" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-nf1xTK1uvso/T30hQDZbF1I/AAAAAAAAClI/9_p0pXKyUn0/s1600-h/011%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="011" border="0" alt="011" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-cc57Gj1Z_OI/T30hQtt_YuI/AAAAAAAAClQ/qw7ocn9wC0w/011_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="353" height="353" /></a></p> Mama Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13971658133454513216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796966551079094452.post-58433633045442001112012-03-25T21:36:00.001-07:002012-03-25T21:36:53.429-07:00Breaking the Ice<p>So it turns out that being a working mother of two babies (under 4!) AND trying to have a single second to yourself is impossible. Impossible, I say. It’s been a rough 9 weeks since I went back to work.  I have not been alone once (not ONCE) outside of grocery runs since school started. I don’t know how mothering two has increased the work load so very much, but I find myself working almost nonstop on household chores. </p> <p>The good news is that after an intense but brief bout with PPD, I am feeling back to myself in a lot of ways. I can’t explain it, but the clouds slowly began drift away and let me see the world in a broader view again. I am, at heart, an eternal optimist and for a while there, I just could not escape doomsday thoughts. I couldn’t get out of that head space to see things clearly or with any hope. Maybe I’ll talk about it more here some day. Maybe I won’t. </p> <p>That’s not why I’m here today though. I am here, with an announcement. </p> <p>You see this babychild? She’s 8 months old and as adorable as possible. </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-5qmrSGoWM2Y/T2_yXrW_TNI/AAAAAAAACjc/EWHrT43tcuU/s1600-h/004%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="004" border="0" alt="004" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-1wcujdNUV6c/T2_yYKaj1eI/AAAAAAAACjk/1L7ZuEreAIk/004_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="372" height="372" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p>But she has places to go . . . </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-t9ArrkMxTMw/T2_yYhpNvOI/AAAAAAAACjs/sjllIOAN9FE/s1600-h/005%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="005" border="0" alt="005" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-zBDH38-2PlQ/T2_yZKz9RvI/AAAAAAAACj0/6516GtwXR3c/005_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="373" height="373" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p>And despite that she doesn’t pull it all together on hand and knees yet, it became official today that she is crawling. Anticipation faded when I realized that she was getting across the room while I was waiting for her to crawl. ha. And the first thing she headed towards? Sister’s doll house of course. Where she was promptly reprimanded for stealing Sister’s toys. Bickering ensued. Even though Amelia has been begging for Annie to be big enough to play with her, she’s already annoyed by her baby sister’s presence at her treasured play space. </p> <p>While she’s pulling herself around now, she’s probably less than a week away from the all-4 mode of transport. She’s up and rocking and reaching, just not all in the same direction at the right time. Amelia never actually made it to the all-4 method but army-crawled until she walked, so this is new. Kinda like everything else with this baby. Like how she hates baby food purees and insists on eating whatever is on my plate, spicy or otherwise. WTH? Or how she laughs at every little thing and wants nothing more than to be held by mama. All. The. Time. </p> Mama Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13971658133454513216noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796966551079094452.post-19874641805619231982012-01-18T16:19:00.001-08:002012-01-18T16:19:31.090-08:00This Week<p>It’s been a whirl-wind kind of month since Christmas. I’ve been unable to post about the girls’ every move, the holidays, or the milestones because there’s been this big, dark cloud of life happenings tainting my thoughts. I’m returning to work next week. I haven’t been in the classroom since May and as I march back into the working-mom-having-it-all-I-mean-DOING-it-all existence that I dread, I return to a helluva a work atmosphere. While out, I lost half of my classes. It’s of course illegal to say, <em>punish</em> a mother for taking maternity leave . . . and yet I find myself going back to work in a financially impossible position. Probably not punished in retribution for having a baby, I do feel confident that I lost classes because . . . well, because I wasn’t there to teach them last semester. They went up for grabs so to speak and found themselves new homes. I will, therefore, make just enough money to pay for the child care required for me to work . . . to make that money . . . to pay the child care . . . and you see the problem. I’m facing this semester with the looming threat of needing to find a new job. I mean, a new career. A new calling (is there such a thing as more than one?). A new identity. A new life away from teaching. It’s all rather unfortunate because I was never in it for the money. But there HAS to be <em>some</em> money in it. And there is only one thing that would make me jump ship and turn my back on this passionate-but-abusive relationship I have with teaching. </p> <p>Well, two things really. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-cL2OGs7jgZ4/TxdhjaqrWWI/AAAAAAAACi4/JV_TTpiWRVA/s1600-h/A%252520n%252520A%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="A n A" border="0" alt="A n A" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-pu8vpVn22Hw/Txdhj7wwtDI/AAAAAAAACjA/PmxTXo6Bfgo/A%252520n%252520A_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="384" height="384" /></a> </p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-1NVxkWqpTRo/TxdhkbJz_bI/AAAAAAAACjI/oWg9B1aNATw/s1600-h/Annie%2525206%252520mos%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="Annie 6 mos" border="0" alt="Annie 6 mos" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-QFE-kGc5zPA/TxdhklOVTPI/AAAAAAAACjQ/jrvxjUdoE2w/Annie%2525206%252520mos_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="298" height="298" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p>Through all of the bullshit I am facing with work right now, I’ve come to realize that I can’t keep dragging my family along on this dream of mine that is clearly not coming true. In fact, it feels like it’s falling apart, and breaking my heart into a million little pieces along the way.  Not only have I worked myself to the depths of possibility for this career, but I’ve built my life around it as well. I’ve developed my own sense of motherhood in this identity and schedule and have not one idea how to revise the vision. I never wanted to be the mom who dropped my kids off in the morning and picked them up in the evening every single day. It wasn’t in the plan. I worked full time AND stayed home full time. It was more than two full time jobs, but I did it willingly because it gave me the best of both as long as I could withstand all of the work, which of course I did. </p> <p>As the semester has neared, I’ve found myself lost in a cycle of horrible negativity, depression, and anxiety—all of which I will have to discuss here at another time—mostly because I’m not out of it yet. So as I prepare for working again, I not only fear that I can’t love it anymore because of its abuses. I also fear that I shall love it more than ever because of our separation. And while I remember every single day that I have all of the things that money can’t buy, I also face a very real financial struggle for survival as I cross the bridge into unknown territory. I have never felt so financially prohibited in my adult life and here I sit with two babies, a family, and a whole life to make work. </p> <p>At what point do you give up on your dreams? What is more detrimental to your children—you giving up? Or not saving for college? Leaving them at day care all day? Or pulling them out of preschool because of cost? </p> <p>Where do you hold the line? I have no idea, but wish me luck as I begin to figure it all out, one shaky, unstable step at a time. </p> Mama Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13971658133454513216noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796966551079094452.post-56117611969556900802011-12-20T15:12:00.001-08:002011-12-20T16:27:47.525-08:00How Did This Happen?<p>Since Amelia is only in school once a week these days, we are spending a LOT of time together, her, Annie, and myself. It’s a daily struggle to keep Amelia stimulated, entertained, and loved while also caring for the baby—especially since she’s used to school lessons, projects, and friends several days a week. There’s been a lot of acting out, which I am assuming is a result of this sudden change in her daily life/schedule. Thankfully, Amelia is tremendous at keeping herself occupied with quiet projects or reading in her room for hours. But she needs mama too and desperately needs to get out of the house every day. Considering the babychild literally <em>runs</em>  to bed every night and <em>runs</em> out of bed every morning, she needs open space to just . . . <em>run</em>. Every. Day. At least this is what I’m realizing now that we’re all spending our days together. </p> <p>We’ve actually fallen into a pretty decent routine each day while Justin’s working. Early morning is mostly survival and juggling, but once Annie goes down for a morning nap, I sit down and spend concentrated time with Amelia. We play a game or make a craft project, read books or bake a treat. It’s her and I time. When the baby’s up again, we all hang out as best we can (will be SO much easier once she sits up unassisted!) through lunch. After lunch used to be house nap time, but it took exactly a quick second before Amelia realized that if she didn’t sleep, she could crash Mama Time and get a solid couple hours to herself with me. She hasn’t napped since. So My Time quickly turned into Amelia and my time. (sigh) During this time, we now shower together, get a couple tasks completed and then hang out. Sometimes I remind her that it’s Mama Time and that she can stay up with me only if she gives me some space/time to work on my projects. This includes her hanging out with me while I sew, working on her own ‘sewing’ projects.  The ultimate privilege for her is to get to use a few of my sewing pins for her scrap fabrics. She literally sits at the table just beside me, follows me into the ironing room, and back to the sewing table, not wanting to separate for a single minute. It’s mostly very sweet . . . but sometimes exhausting too. </p> <p>In any case, a major goal at the moment is to get her outside every day to run. You know, like a dog. I’ve been trying to get a trip to the park into my routine for a few months and now that Annie has been sleeping through the night, it’s finally doable. So we went to the park yesterday. Annie hung out well and happy while we indulged her sister, even though it resulted in her missing her nap (seriously, to give needed attention to one kid, it always seems that the other—the little one usually—suffers) and Amelia ran around climbing, jumping, sliding, etc. She was thrilled that we were all at the park ‘togever.” When she asked to get on the swing, I was stuck. I was holding Annie and didn’t have the hands to push her on the swing. I try to avoid saying things like “I can’t do that right now because I have your sister” so she doesn’t blame the baby for every inattentive moment she has with her mother. And then I thought about it . . . I bet Annie can fit into the swing! Hmmm. I wonder if she’d like it? </p> <p>I plopped Annie into the swing, pushed a tiny bit . . . and she didn’t scream. </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-2jfUNuXzPFw/TvEWUx3FqzI/AAAAAAAACh0/vaqffXPLCTQ/s1600-h/Annie%252520swing%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="Annie swing" border="0" alt="Annie swing" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-XfKSU6mAtO4/TvEWVAlvR8I/AAAAAAAACh8/m40B4CIYiwk/Annie%252520swing_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="312" height="415" /></a></p> <p align="center">I think the verdict is still out on whether or not she enjoyed it. o’ hai. </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-6BFw99-ylBA/TvEWV6YXD4I/AAAAAAAACiE/WG4HLylhyQk/s1600-h/photo%252520%2525282%252529%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="photo (2)" border="0" alt="photo (2)" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-095xxGkaFv8/TvEWWFjXYQI/AAAAAAAACiM/5Gkv9y4uwsU/photo%252520%2525282%252529_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="300" height="398" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p align="center">Onto Amelia. Plopped her into the big kid swing. She was very excited to have Sister with her on the swings!</p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-kdqgtPmL27c/TvEWWk7mhjI/AAAAAAAACiU/z6zxt820N4k/s1600-h/Amelia%252520swing%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="Amelia swing" border="0" alt="Amelia swing" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-JzBP9ZqIKPw/TvEWXGl5_JI/AAAAAAAACic/vqcyzn5Ynlg/Amelia%252520swing_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="308" height="410" /></a> </p> <p align="center">So I pushed her and stood back. And took this picture. </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Ekfmhn2qAls/TvEWX6ktOvI/AAAAAAAACik/5u5F30LeA4I/s1600-h/girls%252520swinging%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="girls swinging" border="0" alt="girls swinging" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-6aBplnD24kQ/TvEWYJSNl9I/AAAAAAAACis/mcxq0rfJLIY/girls%252520swinging_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="377" height="284" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p>Didn’t think too much about it. When I got home and looked at this picture, it took my breath away. I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you that my heart began to pound loud and fast. It’s not staged or posed, but just a picture of them being kids. I think it’s the first picture of them just playing. In any case, it blew me away. I have two kids. Let me repeat. . . I HAVE TWO KIDS! Please someone, tell me when the hell THAT happened. Without exaggeration, I still find it hard to believe that I am a mother at all . . . much less the mother of two. And here they are. Dude, WHAT?! How is it possible that there are two people on the planet who rely on me as their mother—for all of eternity? </p> <p>And now that the second baby is here, that’s it. You spend so much of your life thinking “someday when I have kids,” wondering what you’ll have, and then it’s a totally separate stage of your life in getting them here. And now they’re . . . here. And growing big. Amelia will be in school in a little over a year. And Annie is big enough to ride in a swing! And this is my life. It’s settled.  Mother of two girls . . . who will soon no longer be babies. Then I’ll just be a mom of a couple of kids, driving them to school, cheering at soccer games, and helping with homework. The weirdest thing is that I cannot tell you how or when I got here. It’s hard to explain these moments when your life comes into focus for a second and you don’t recognize yourself. And you realize that you’re getting older, heading to old, and that you’re a grown up and that there are people who will only ever know you as Mom, an old grown up. It’s not a bad thing, but it certainly catches me off guard every once in a while. </p> <p>I’m sure there are many more of these moments to come. It’s only the swings now. I can’t imagine the heartbreak these two little babygirls will bestow upon their mama—just by growing up. </p> Mama Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13971658133454513216noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796966551079094452.post-83325293575349155202011-12-16T13:12:00.001-08:002011-12-16T13:18:20.753-08:00It’s a Good Thing She’s Cute<p>We had a pretty rough day yesterday. Amelia and I have been battling something terrible and yesterday was pretty . . . bad. But then we went to her gymnastics show last night and she was the cutest kid on the planet. I went from barely able to even look at her to proudly blubbering as I snapped pics of her ‘tricks.’ </p> <p>She was as adorable as possible in her grab bag hand-me-down leotard (that she got after having a pee accident in class one day. Score!). And she was SO excited to play with all the big kid gymnasts. </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-R594AwzvVQw/Tuu0QEdEvrI/AAAAAAAACgg/Z21fTmjftpE/s1600-h/DSCN3862%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="DSCN3862" border="0" alt="DSCN3862" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-L04M2w3A2fg/Tuu0QtVqUYI/AAAAAAAACgo/UPqyTmCvRV4/DSCN3862_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="303" height="403" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-PvWIS0Fu0PU/Tuu0RIQOiCI/AAAAAAAACgw/H6PZ-nHVKTE/s1600-h/DSCN3866%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="DSCN3866" border="0" alt="DSCN3866" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/--2sPnEHtrs0/Tuu0RbQrwvI/AAAAAAAACg4/lLHpU87TJ-0/DSCN3866_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="388" height="292" /></a></p> <p>  <a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-G11qQrruP9E/Tuu0R_x-KmI/AAAAAAAAChA/_33ycU7SdQc/s1600-h/DSCN3878%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="DSCN3878" border="0" alt="DSCN3878" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-KQQd0pXjiWM/Tuu0SBfO99I/AAAAAAAAChI/41Hlml3bar0/DSCN3878_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="395" height="297" /></a> She performed with just one other little person and the crowd just loved them to pieces. Amelia was so shy when she started gymnastics that I had to tell the teacher to be sure and include her because she kept getting left out. . . Yeah well that’s all gone. She loved having the audience there and wanted to keep performing even after her turn! </p> <p> </p> <p align="center">I die. </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-kfONRFBq28A/Tuu0SioDAII/AAAAAAAAChQ/u5jAvokz5hA/s1600-h/DSCN3863%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="DSCN3863" border="0" alt="DSCN3863" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-9-3GeQFrzro/Tuu0TLsIZ2I/AAAAAAAAChY/6-6UDbzjX9U/DSCN3863_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="277" height="368" /></a> </p> <p>And even though she misbehaved all day and pushed me to the point of wanting to strangle her, I decided to keep her after all. I mean that tushy has saved her many a time. She’s lucky I’m a sucker for amazingly cute tushies. </p> <p> </p> <p align="center"> Doin cartwheels like a boss. </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-OzArd56kBQE/Tuu0T1gOGPI/AAAAAAAAChg/cagMon5_VS0/s1600-h/RSCN3889%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="RSCN3889" border="0" alt="RSCN3889" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-xgqZ6OaM1tA/Tuu0UJbsw7I/AAAAAAAACho/vMoVgjF1yNQ/RSCN3889_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="434" height="327" /></a></p> <p align="center">(video forthcoming)  </p> Mama Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13971658133454513216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796966551079094452.post-29387210042193294502011-12-14T22:07:00.001-08:002011-12-14T22:07:51.058-08:00I’ve Heard of Babies Like This<p>I’ve talked to parents who simply shrugged as they mentioned that their baby slept through the night at a few months old. Or who boasted about their little ones as being “the easiest baby ever!” Their baby just smiled and cooed at them all the time. I’d even heard of babies who didn’t scream for three hours when they missed their bed time by 30 minutes. I’ve seen with my own eyes babies who just hang out happily and appear to just be along for the ride, mellow, <em>easy</em>. </p> <p>I thought these babies were a myth. Even the ones I saw myself, I had my doubts. I thought their parents were liars or worse, terrible parents who must just ignore the screams of their poor, over-tired babies. Because I assumed that they all screamed. I assumed that they all screamed when they had a dirty diaper, missed a nap by 5 minutes, or simply when changing their clothes. I assumed that they all screamed when the woke up and when they went to bed. Isn’t that what makes parenting so hard? </p> <p>And then I had Annie. </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-t-kOKcqSX8A/TumOQ7EzUbI/AAAAAAAACYM/-8eDR-Q5GgQ/s1600-h/DSCN3719%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="DSCN3719" border="0" alt="DSCN3719" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-uJKY3idPCmU/TumORM1cyTI/AAAAAAAACYU/D0Vkk3VbBHE/DSCN3719_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="358" height="270" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p>And she smiles like crazy. She laughs easily. Cries rarely. In fact, even when she’s crying, you can still make her smile with little effort. When she turned three months and stopped sleeping, I thought she’d lost her status as the most perfect baby ever. . . and when she was about 4.5 months, I decided to try sleep training her just to see how it went. One evening of complaining-not-crying for a bit and she was sleeping through the night. I don’t know if I should even say it, but for the last week, she’s slept until 6 or 7 and even 8 once. And then she takes a 3 hour nap every afternoon without fail. She sleeps in the car and doesn’t mind running all over the place. She’s nothing short of amazing. </p> <p>She is the only thing that could heal me of my first-time-mother experience. She’s made me love babies instead of wishing they’d just grow already. And naturally, she’s growing so very rapidly. I actually believe that I will miss her being a baby someday. . . </p> <p>Without my even coaxing or teaching her, she’s hitting all of her milestones. She’s already rolling from back to front. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-AmJpexqOpiU/TumOR-dC4uI/AAAAAAAACYc/nEUfbshCl-k/s1600-h/DSCN3748%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3748" border="0" alt="DSCN3748" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-ZMThwQi34MQ/TumOSMUOAYI/AAAAAAAACYk/Ji1Bx6JbcWg/DSCN3748_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="364" height="274" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-gCr_4tZKk9w/TumOS05FlZI/AAAAAAAACYs/Z6BuNsB9b6o/s1600-h/DSCN3749%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3749" border="0" alt="DSCN3749" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-uaTMoweJHDs/TumOTGKjtQI/AAAAAAAACY0/rn5wmm0ySD0/DSCN3749_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="367" height="276" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-t-MBfysPxZU/TumOTgjyqxI/AAAAAAAACY8/Bg27azL8BOY/s1600-h/DSCN3750%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3750" border="0" alt="DSCN3750" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-hNjLKXUqmFM/TumOUHnKWGI/AAAAAAAACZE/PuegYydn2Jo/DSCN3750_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="363" height="273" /></a> </p> <p align="center"></p> <p align="center"></p> <p align="center"></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-plaji_ueGv8/TumOUmaV5YI/AAAAAAAACZM/4nRrFEYc7bA/s1600-h/DSCN3751%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3751" border="0" alt="DSCN3751" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-VUlzAbqnyIA/TumOVIzZHQI/AAAAAAAACZU/ZEjEv1bCdxY/DSCN3751_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="357" height="269" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-NtmELajpTOE/TumOVhEpNfI/AAAAAAAACZc/a_1sK1yLeCU/s1600-h/DSCN3752%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3752" border="0" alt="DSCN3752" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-45DtgYKYoLk/TumOV0R2CfI/AAAAAAAACZk/4nto7n0e6_E/DSCN3752_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="355" height="267" /></a> </p> <p align="left">She reaches out to grab everything and plays with toys. </p> <p align="left"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-7C8VnI0T3s8/TumOWl5T3hI/AAAAAAAACZs/ZYcTW8Hk1II/s1600-h/DSCN3707%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="DSCN3707" border="0" alt="DSCN3707" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-WOTarj3YiBI/TumOXEBph2I/AAAAAAAACZ0/83lm1BJSOD8/DSCN3707_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="369" height="278" /></a></p> <p align="left"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-0FhQu70bFAA/TumOX5wInoI/AAAAAAAACZ8/qVBL7Dl7NNU/s1600-h/DSCN3708%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="DSCN3708" border="0" alt="DSCN3708" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Wx5HLLmaQ3I/TumOYGLMU-I/AAAAAAAACaE/2NkfXRiw6J0/DSCN3708_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="375" height="282" /></a></p> <p align="left">She’s pretty super. </p> <p align="left"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ECqnU43SMYg/TumOY5ECGHI/AAAAAAAACaM/S9BebMMCemY/s1600-h/DSCN3698%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="DSCN3698" border="0" alt="DSCN3698" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-oU37903C8zI/TumOZHMkdaI/AAAAAAAACaU/MedZO0ITOdE/DSCN3698_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="276" height="367" /></a></p> <p align="left"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-YJ8jVZNfBWw/TumOZqmT6lI/AAAAAAAACac/0FfZpdnlpIY/s1600-h/DSCN3702%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="DSCN3702" border="0" alt="DSCN3702" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-kGNrXU_xJ9Q/TumOaOcN3hI/AAAAAAAACak/gtjqT0mOrh0/DSCN3702_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="375" height="282" /></a>She’s just my sweet, little baby.     </p> <p align="left"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-lYZxQ1rjDzI/TumOarxsfPI/AAAAAAAACas/GnPSdtN8io0/s1600-h/DSCN3739%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="DSCN3739" border="0" alt="DSCN3739" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-UZvl99kuh6s/TumOaxV2eNI/AAAAAAAACa0/Vr1GF2M-SAE/DSCN3739_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="373" height="281" /></a></p> <p align="center">Good Morning Sunshine!! </p> <p align="left"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-3wLV5RPBlE0/TumObn4GlNI/AAAAAAAACa8/C6hGvI5ubJM/s1600-h/DSCN3763%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="DSCN3763" border="0" alt="DSCN3763" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-kyAB57qydug/TumObyUztPI/AAAAAAAACbE/cYbgulAxDjs/DSCN3763_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="375" height="282" /></a>  </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/--ptH1oHFONc/TumOcTumoyI/AAAAAAAACbM/n-u6fTbL0r8/s1600-h/DSCN3744%25255B7%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3744" border="0" alt="DSCN3744" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-7QfIMHdJjbs/TumOdPDdVHI/AAAAAAAACbU/qSQff3btuDk/DSCN3744_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="383" height="288" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-TR-bKg3qcrA/TumOdt3wyII/AAAAAAAACbc/qouplU-rEhw/s1600-h/DSCN3685%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3685" border="0" alt="DSCN3685" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-4KV9hgjvG8w/TumOeLaPtuI/AAAAAAAACbk/uYqYoH1Elm8/DSCN3685_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="377" height="284" /></a> </p> <p align="center">Amelia and Annie on Thanksgiving</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-sDkWEY1WxcI/TumOeuVGDMI/AAAAAAAACbs/zcvXw2uzjJQ/s1600-h/DSCN3687%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3687" border="0" alt="DSCN3687" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-XYn_Cb7tagY/TumOfCdvf7I/AAAAAAAACb0/VqIkYmg35PE/DSCN3687_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="363" height="273" /></a> </p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center">Oh. My. Thighs. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-UNWZIYLqlEg/TumOf4nYINI/AAAAAAAACb8/9f-bDuQ8MpY/s1600-h/DSCN3720%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3720" border="0" alt="DSCN3720" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-v-31YyDSIUg/TumOgFgsGDI/AAAAAAAACcE/XeGOgZlnyRA/DSCN3720_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="232" height="308" /></a>  </p> <p align="center">On our way to the Festival of Lights Parade. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-g_jm0f4gLVI/TumOgvVIhcI/AAAAAAAACcM/YbqRjPgMubI/s1600-h/DSCN3756%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3756" border="0" alt="DSCN3756" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-e2aAhGx6mes/TumOhHVb8NI/AAAAAAAACcU/DVyFMr71Ojg/DSCN3756_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="361" height="272" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-VEUuwQwYobc/TumOhk70-FI/AAAAAAAACcc/RGartGGe5YA/s1600-h/DSCN3758%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3758" border="0" alt="DSCN3758" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-rXNbx7-oLoY/TumOh5606JI/AAAAAAAACck/nP3V4RWzmts/DSCN3758_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="374" height="282" /></a> </p> <p align="left">And since Annie stares down anyone who dares to eat in her presence, we decided to let her have a go at food herself. She literally will pull herself off the boob to turn around and glare at me when I try to eat. We skipped the whole rice cereal game and went straight to avocado. She’d open her mouth and take the spoon willingly. Then she’d do this. </p> <p align="left"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Y0UFgCy_PXo/TumOio7R4II/AAAAAAAACcs/GthVF1wZuW8/s1600-h/DSCN3766%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="DSCN3766" border="0" alt="DSCN3766" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-dMteJzfbXR8/TumOjLJR8XI/AAAAAAAACc0/iSGdbMOaGpM/DSCN3766_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="366" height="276" /></a> </p> <p align="center">What have you done to me?! </p> <p align="left"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Lkm5zn8sTT4/TumOj5DrimI/AAAAAAAACc8/NYNSNPDsLgw/s1600-h/DSCN3767%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="DSCN3767" border="0" alt="DSCN3767" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-KShtHq4zMbM/TumOkeMAj7I/AAAAAAAACdE/faKy0QvlvkI/DSCN3767_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="355" height="267" /></a> </p> <p align="center">Then she’d recover and open her mouth again wanting more. I’d give her a tiny bite and she’d do this. </p> <p align="left"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-yPyfNlskKy8/TumOkzCaMMI/AAAAAAAACdM/QJdPlQp5ug4/s1600-h/DSCN3773%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="DSCN3773" border="0" alt="DSCN3773" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-36EkrYwmWa8/TumOlAzUjlI/AAAAAAAACdU/24pNuzdrLg8/DSCN3773_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="391" height="294" /></a> </p> <p align="center">Repeat. </p> <p align="left"> </p> <p align="left">Tonight I gave her some ground oatmeal and she DUG it. Made a bowl thinking she’d only have a few bites and she snarfed the whole thing. So it’s ON with food. Will be roasting some butternut squash and sweet potatoes this weekend! I can’t believe I’m already busting out the ice cube tray lids and making baby food in bulk. </p> <p align="left">I can NOT believe that my little love is 5 months old already! I am enjoying her so. Did you hear that?! I am ENJOYING her so very much. She is just a sweet, joy, love, babycakes. I just can’t get enough of her and that smile and those cheeks and thighs and . . . just <em>her. </em>She’s just my heart. I love her so and I marvel every day at her and how much she’s changed my view on babies and parenting. </p> <p align="left">Now, she’s ready to start teething. She’s been drooling on everything and gnawing on anything she can slam into her mouth. . . so maybe the worst is yet to come. . . ? Somehow I doubt it. </p> <p align="left">5 Months Old!! </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-zDiWG2z2bKc/TumOliboWPI/AAAAAAAACdg/hleEXA8dWmk/s1600-h/DSCN3777%25255B6%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3777" border="0" alt="DSCN3777" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-eHYNf5xE0SE/TumOmKA1IyI/AAAAAAAACdo/MgoGY5f4xZA/DSCN3777_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="333" height="329" /></a> </p> <p align="center">Have I mentioned that she never stops moving?? NEVER. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ObEQdJf7uTo/TumOm-3yhaI/AAAAAAAACdw/ptWaVm0E06Q/s1600-h/DSCN3782%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3782" border="0" alt="DSCN3782" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-kkVTjHHmeak/TumOnK7IaoI/AAAAAAAACd4/bbl-OG3BS-k/DSCN3782_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="379" height="285" /></a> </p> <p align="center">Most of the pics I take of her are blurry from movement. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Dc1huLISPG0/TumOnmNbAmI/AAAAAAAACeA/UkjCi3DMLQs/s1600-h/DSCN3783%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3783" border="0" alt="DSCN3783" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-PN5FNachqe8/TumOoK93CtI/AAAAAAAACeI/0M91SfD6MwU/DSCN3783_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="371" height="279" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-RMbMACXrOhU/TumOouBc-lI/AAAAAAAACeQ/NYOm8pZQeLQ/s1600-h/DSCN3785%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3785" border="0" alt="DSCN3785" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-NnXaY0scXss/TumOo_Air0I/AAAAAAAACeY/x95157enF38/DSCN3785_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="260" height="346" /></a> </p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center">Annie, 5 months. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-FgR_lef609E/TumOpUB25iI/AAAAAAAACeg/Mnw9TALj8Tg/s1600-h/DSCN3789%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3789" border="0" alt="DSCN3789" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-5s5wnfocDwU/TumOp6ldbBI/AAAAAAAACeo/j1QnETXEklw/DSCN3789_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="365" height="275" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-cOQ287qfx6I/TumOqUpE7tI/AAAAAAAACew/n04Xfs5J6hQ/s1600-h/DSCN3790%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3790" border="0" alt="DSCN3790" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-bZBW_BgmRfg/TumOqgqMSzI/AAAAAAAACe4/5zUlC6RmZO0/DSCN3790_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="257" height="341" /></a> </p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center">And don’t think that I can take pictures of Annie without Sister jumping in. How proud is Amelia?? It’s so NOT for the camera. She adores her sister. And quite frankly, the feeling is ridiculously mutual. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-WXypNE4-uek/TumOrFklS-I/AAAAAAAACfA/dUOxXZSeYBw/s1600-h/DSCN3792%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3792" border="0" alt="DSCN3792" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-vzzeHsgIxng/TumOrvQUEVI/AAAAAAAACfI/WxYRN-3XOpw/DSCN3792_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="373" height="281" /></a> </p> <p align="center">Oh Look. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Jdy0G4RD_1s/TumOsKzDMAI/AAAAAAAACfQ/BZIKSS-rTB0/s1600-h/DSCN3794%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3794" border="0" alt="DSCN3794" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-lRq5FHPslDk/TumOsQmcu-I/AAAAAAAACfY/jGEfkfFN7kc/DSCN3794_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="381" height="287" /></a> </p> <p align="center">Heart. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-_6UNqlgyhCQ/TumOtJwiblI/AAAAAAAACfg/cEKgMiTxmEI/s1600-h/DSCN3797%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3797" border="0" alt="DSCN3797" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-94MuvmeD4oc/TumOtVaCYbI/AAAAAAAACfo/zW7Dr5dPeGI/DSCN3797_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="266" height="353" /></a> </p> <p align="left">I can’t believe it’s been 5 months since we brought Annie home. And I can’t believe that just one year ago, we were barely aware of her. I can’t believe that I have two babies and I can’t believe that these little girls are all mine. Five months later, I think Annie completed us in a way when we didn’t even know we were missing something.</p> Mama Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13971658133454513216noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796966551079094452.post-60242917284340536672011-11-17T23:02:00.001-08:002011-11-17T23:02:57.487-08:004-month stats!<p>Annie had her 4-month check-up Tuesday. I was really curious about her height and weight because she doesn’t really look bigger to me, but she keeps growing out of her clothes. She’s in 9 month jammies for crying out loud. . . but doesn’t look like that big of a baby. . . ?</p> <p>Anyway, she weighed in at 14 lbs., and 9 ozs. Crazy enough, that is LIGHTER than Amelia was at 4 months! I can’t believe it. I remember Amelia just exploding in weight around 3 months and then surpassing the 50th percentile, but I anticipated Annie keeping her lead on Big Sister since she started out 2 whole pounds bigger! She is still in the 72nd percentile, so not a small baby, but I was a little disappointed. Less than three pounds in 2 months? And I get up every other hour through the night? What gives? Her doctor didn’t seem too concerned about the weight drop in percentile so maybe she’s in for a growth spurt. Heaven help me. The kicker though is that she is 15.5 inches long! WHAAAAT? Yeah, Amelia was 14. She’s growing out of her clothes because she’s so tall. Oh lawd, another tall baby? We are not tall people! So yeah, she’s grown 6.5 inches since birth. Helps me feel better about the weight. A little. </p> <p>She got her shots too. Thankfully, this time she didn’t appear to have any reaction. Justin even took the day off just in case! It was pretty nasty last time so I’m relieved that she rebounded well this round. It was crazy too because she hardly even cried. Most babies just scream and scream but she took them pretty well. It always helps to pull out the magic boobies immediately after. Works like a charm every time. </p> <p>This is our little Nugget on the way home from the doctor. </p> <p align="center">Saggy cheeks. Hand holding blanket. Sleepy baby. </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-c5kxoKum9CU/TsYDGKep4JI/AAAAAAAACXY/j0kwBHC2P-I/s1600-h/Annie%2525204%252520mos%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="Annie 4 mos" border="0" alt="Annie 4 mos" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-9iMv0nOUqig/TsYDGkR2_XI/AAAAAAAACXc/D_UW-GHiyvQ/Annie%2525204%252520mos_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="347" height="461" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p>Ummmmm. It kind of reminds me of this other picture . . . of this other baby . . . on her way home from her 4 month appointment . . . </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-_eY5iBbe4sM/TsYDG94IqyI/AAAAAAAACXk/-wNQk0W8VnY/s1600-h/Amelia%2525204%252520mos%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="Amelia 4 mos" border="0" alt="Amelia 4 mos" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-_5nqendKbHs/TsYDHZMIuaI/AAAAAAAACXs/GbdTCefaY2I/Amelia%2525204%252520mos_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="358" height="270" /></a></p> <p align="center"> Saggy cheeks. Hands holding blanket. Sleepy baby. </p> <p align="left"> </p> <p>Crazy right? Yeah, it trips us out too. I even got one of Annie from the same side. </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-rJGMTxQ1ah0/TsYDHmYIjDI/AAAAAAAACX0/TPY7hYd6pS0/s1600-h/annie%2525202%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="annie 2" border="0" alt="annie 2" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-WbIW9d1pkYo/TsYDH2g82_I/AAAAAAAACYA/N6HYpxqkz6Q/annie%2525202_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="292" height="388" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p></p> <p></p> <p>Now that Annie’s 4 months old, I have to come to grips with the fact that she’s not a new born anymore. Not in that I’ll miss the newborn phase but in that she shouldn’t be treated like she just came home from the hospital. The months have really flown by so it does feel like it was just yesterday . . . but it wasn’t. And maybe because she’s such an easy baby, we’ve continued rocking her to sleep, cuddling for hours before putting her in her crib, and letting her nurse for longer than she needs. I don’t really mind any of these things in moderation. Unfortunately, she doesn’t know how to go to sleep on her own and requires a lot of holding. It’s unfortunate that you have to think is these terms, but to continue with treating her like a newborn, we’ll set us all up for failure. So some of the hard work begins and we move into the next phase. In exchange, we get to hang out with her more and play more as she grows more alert and interactive. Each phase gets easier and harder. . . </p> <p>Can’t believe we’re headed to Thanksgiving already! Wonder what the new year shall bring. . . </p> Mama Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13971658133454513216noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796966551079094452.post-65199077368408245092011-11-16T15:23:00.001-08:002011-11-16T15:55:21.908-08:00Why Occupy Wall Street?<p>I grew up in a working class family that struggled to make ends meet on a monthly basis. Both parents worked full time but at mediocre jobs, doing what they could to raise a family on two high school diplomas. I started working and paying as much of my own way as possible at 16. I had to get a ride to work and home after stocking a salad bar on the dinner shift. From that job, I worked my way into bussing tables, running plates, and eventually waitressing while in college. I waited tables at two restaurants while also coaching kids soccer and attending full-time classes by 19. I continued working full time through college, paying off my tuition, which I always had to charge, each semester. In the hard times, I went to classes 5 days a week, worked closing at the restaurant on Thursday and Friday nights, and pulled an obscenely early morning bookkeeping shift followed by the busy waiting shift late on Saturday and Sunday nights. I went entire semesters without a single day off between work and school and found myself writing papers and studying for exams between 2 & 5 am. I completed 2 Bachelors Degrees on my own dime, but it took 6 years. </p> <p>When I entered graduate school, I moved into a full-time ‘real’ job for the State of California. It offered me a stable income and reliable hours. I took the bus to school after work, carrying a change of clothes, my books, dinner, and a can of pepper spray for the 10-block walk home from the downtown drop off. I was one of the only people in the Masters program with a full-time day job, plugging along, and only taking 2 classes a semester, both at night. On the weekends, I struggled to maintain the 500-1000-page per week reading assignments and 25 page papers due. I did little else but clung to the faith that someday, I wouldn’t be in school and I could allow life in a bit. While I was in school, I was offered several promotions within government work. I turned them all down, resisting the urge to make more money, become reliant on a big salary, and therefore unable to afford my dream job of teaching at the college level. I worked out of my duty class a lot, doing the jobs of higher-paid employees, but refused to settle into a more posh life. When it was time to complete my thesis, I had to compile all of my research on Wednesday evenings and one Saturday a month—the only times when the archive was open during non-business hours. It took three years. </p> <p>After ten years of higher education, I finally reached my academic finish line and received a Master’s Degree in History. Finally! With school coming to a close, I agreed to marry my boyfriend of 6 years. It was all coming together, we thought. He’d already established a modest, but solid career as a Probation Officer after working full time to pay his way through college as well. All of the hard work was sure to begin paying off as we headed towards our thirties. Two weeks after finishing grad school, I entered the classroom as a professor for the first time. It was one of the single biggest moments of my life. I’d returned to the very community college from which I’d graduated only 6 years prior. For the first two semesters, I played it safe and stayed on at the state job, always worried about money. I’d work all day, teach at night, and then return home to write the next day’s lectures until 3 am. I’d taken three classes, was teaching for the first time, and still working a normal day job. It was one of the toughest times in my life. And more exhilarating because finally my work was going towards a career. </p> <p>Once married, my husband and I began looking at homes to buy. We’d rented for several years and watched the housing market balloon into horrific price points. Every time we looked at potential houses, I came home in tears. We saw houses that were completely filthy and in terrible neighborhoods <em>and we couldn’t afford them</em>. Houses were selling at an alarming rate. Builders were taking plots for one home and building three and people were buying them. There was the feeling that if you didn’t get something ANYTHING in this market, you never would own a home. Those disgusting houses we saw would be sold in a few days. There was a real sense of panic that after all the hard work we’d put in, we’d never have a real home. We initially held back and balked at high prices, waiting for the downturn. . . that didn’t come. In just a year, houses were $75,000 more expensive than the previous. We felt punished by our own caution and conservatism. It was fairly devastating to think that I’d worked so hard to break the cycle and get an education only to find that I couldn’t afford a home in the underprivileged neighborhood in which I was raised.  We remained patient and saved as much as possible and finally found a house. It was new and $30,000 less than the median home price was at the time. We didn’t want anything fancy. Just a home!  It was, in essence, a great deal. </p> <p>We signed the papers on our home on our first wedding anniversary. Before the deal closed officially, we’d sneak into the house and sit on the floor in the empty rooms for hours. <em>This is our home</em>. It was twice the size of the tiny house we’d rented for years and nicer than anything either of us ever expected. The brand new neighborhood was filling up with other young couples eager to begin families. Grocery stores proudly hung their “Coming Soon” banners on the corner intersections. There were schools and parks in the growing plans. Even though we thought we might have to eat top ramen for the rest of our lives, we had a home. It was perfect. </p> <p>In the next couple of years, I took the full leap into teaching, taking work at two schools to cover a modest, but middle income. I taught 9 different course topics in only 3 years and often worked into the wee hours preparing, preparing, preparing. All the while, I knew it was just creating a foundation for my career, even if it left little room for the married life I’d just begun. Every semester, I taught classes in the morning, the afternoon, and in the evenings. Oftentimes, I taught on Saturdays as well, just trying to make it. Whatever it took to build my reputation as a hard worker and to build a steady and reliable economic situation for our budding family is what I was willing to do. </p> <p>You see, what I’m trying to say is that we followed the rules. Justin and I did everything you are supposed to do to have a decently comfortable life. We put in the hard work, broke the cycles of low income families, and took minimal risks. We focused on building a stable foundation and working hard to achieve your goals. We never expected or desired wealth. We didn’t want a house to make a profit, but to make a family. We had a modest lifestyle and expected to keep it for the long-term. We did not ask for handouts and laid the groundwork ourselves. <em>We did everything right.</em>  </p> <p>After a couple years, the housing market finally began to deflate. As it turned out, mortgage banks had been selling average working people loans based on shady fine print and impossibly low interest rates. Often times, these loans were for a set amount for several years only to explode into a much bigger payment later or start with a low rate (to get the buyers sold) only to skyrocket in the future. Essentially, they loaned too much money to people who couldn’t totally afford the payments by making it <em>appear as if they COULD, even if only for the short-term. </em>Therefore leaving the buyers to figure it out on their own later at their own peril. This created a housing boom making homes very expensive as there were too many people desperate to get in on the rising costs (or not be left out as the case may be) . . . and these loans continued. The frantic lending included selling homes at 100% financing (the prices were so high that nobody could really afford a down payment), meaning that the house would have to rise in value in order for the owners not to end up in trouble. As the prices continued to rise, the lenders continued to qualify virtually anyone for a home loan . . . and so it all continued to grow. And grow. And grow. The problem? The growth was on inflated numbers because those loans were not going to last. They’d made it seem like everyone could afford to buy a home and that it was a sure moneymaker, flooding the market. It’s like building a house of cards . . . you can only go so high on so little before the tiniest gust knocks it down. And it all just . . . popped. </p> <p>We’d been happily living in our home when the market crashed, making our payments diligently each month. And when the economy crashed (there was more to it than just the housing too, of course!), we saw it immediately in our neighborhood. The oversaturated housing market came to a halt. The community was only half finished, but the construction just stopped. There were entire streets with just the frames or lots exposed—and no homes. Plans for the schools, stores, and parks dissipated. And as the years went on, the first wave of neighbors, who’d bought loans that were to adjust in 5 years, began to leave. They couldn’t sell their houses because <em>the house wasn’t worth what they owed on them</em> and they suddenly couldn’t afford the payment. So they couldn’t afford a house that now had no value. Imagine the struggle! Do the ‘right’ thing by the bank and harm your family’s financial future . . . ? Struggling to make payments on a sinking ship. Neighbors disappeared in the middle of the night. They’d pack up and move before anyone could ask them why. Normal, educated, well-paid families were losing their homes in a humiliating way—and the rest of us schmucks continued paying mortgages for nothing because no value was in the home. These vacancies only made the remaining homes continue to lose value, leaving us all on the sinking ship. Further, as the houses emptied around us, crime rates skyrocketed. Our neighborhood began to fall prey to home invasion robberies and other crimes. As the banks sold off foreclosed homes at rock-bottom prices (further plummeting our home’s worth), the neighborhood took on a different atmosphere altogether. Suddenly, I found myself in a neighborhood much like the one in which I grew up, where you don’t feel safe walking in the streets or opening the door to strangers. </p> <p>Except we’d worked so hard to avoid this. </p> <p>When we realized that our house was worth $100,000 less (yes, one-hundred-thousand) than we paid for it, we called our lenders. We were current on our mortgage(s), in good standing, and not seeking to leave the home. We just wanted to stay but not sink. We asked the bank about modifying our mortgage to make it more affordable and realistic in terms of what the home was worth. Would they really want us to pay our whole lives on this house that would never again be worth the initial price? Of course they did. They refused to talk to us. We were told that if we missed a payment on the house, they could deal with us but that as long as we were in good standing, they couldn’t help us. Yes, as long as we paid our bills and did the responsible thing, we were screwed. If, however, you wanted to totally eff the bank by NOT paying your mortgage and walking away, then they’d negotiate. It made no sense and it was clear that the banks—who’d created this shit to begin with for their own profit—had no desire to keep average people from losing their homes. In fact, they were encouraging it. So why didn’t we? Because we had a conscience about it and we’d agreed to pay the mortgage. And the banks <em>knew this</em>. They knew that most people do not want to leave their homes in the middle of the night or struggle to find a place to live—that working Americans have a sense of value and obligation that <em>worked in the banks’ favor</em>. As we talked to neighbors all facing the same dilemmas, everyone had a similar story with the banks. Nobody could get through to the institutions that if the banks would just work with the owners, everyone would win. Surely the bank would fare better by keeping people paying their mortgages than abandoning their homes, no?? </p> <p>It made no sense except in spite. The banks were spitefully punishing people for signing on to terrible loans. They wanted us to struggle, even at their own profit loss. </p> <p>As the story goes, the economic downturn affected much more than just the housing market. Business scaled back, local governments lost a fortune in property taxes and cut employees, and so on. Not only did we find ourselves fighting a losing battle over our home, but we both suffered losses at work. As a two civil-servant household, we were hit disproportionately. Justin was dropped a rank, watched his career path disappear, and took a tremendous pay cut. He also took cuts in his retirement and medical benefits. I lost one class at first and then took a salary cut as well. Then as other, more seniored (privileged) colleagues took their pay cut, they demanded more classes to make up for it, and I lost further work. And suddenly, it was we who were struggling to pay for a house that wasn’t worth it. And we continued paying. We cut all excess and buckled down to pinching pennies to pay that mortgage. We again called the bank. They again refused to work with us. As far as they were concerned, as long as we paid the mortgage then we were not deserving of negotiation. . . even if we were starving in the process, so we learned! </p> <p>We put the house up for a short sale—selling it at the market value and taking a terrible hit in our credit and losing all of the money we’d put into the house. We never considered a foreclosure because we wanted to do the ‘right’ thing and take the hits. When we talked to the banks about short selling the house, we were told they wouldn't even consider an offer unless we stopped paying the mortgage. They <em>wanted</em> us to default. And we did. And we cried about it and lost months of sleep over it. And received the threatening, hateful, horrible phone calls from the very banks that took us down this path. We had to submit every financial document we had to the banks <em>every month</em> so they could determine that we were appropriately poor enough to sell their house. We got an offer on our house—for $200,000 less than we paid for it—and the banks took so long verifying us and requiring us to resubmit all of our paperwork over and over . . . that the buyers finally walked. They didn’t want to wait anymore. Despite that the banks do better when they can sell the house, they made it difficult and torturous just to punish us. . . when we’d offered to pay for the house at a much higher price than the one offered. When our realtor was on the phone cancelling the buyers’ offer, another department of the bank called <em>at the same time</em> to say that they’d accepted the offer. . . but it was too late! They waited all of that time just to accept? </p> <p>It was a horrible rollercoaster experience for us. We didn’t close on the sale of our house for 12 months. It was emotionally draining, ego shattering, and eye-opening. . . It seemed that so many other hard working people were in the same boat as us. Why wasn’t anyone calling out the banks?! Unemployment is skyrocketing, millions of middle class Americans are homeless. School is impossibly expensive, yet teachers are making less. Public safety is out the window and civil servants are taking a clubbing. And the housing market was among the biggest catalysts to this whole mess? And who was behind the housing crisis? Who was gambling with Americans’ money and then leaving them out to dry when they had nowhere to go? And most infuriatingly, who threatened to halt the nation if they didn’t get a hand out from the government . . . after denying any amount of cooperation with the average citizen. . . ? They refused to take offers from homeowners for reasonable adjustments to value when the alternative was foreclosure and a total loss. <em>They wouldn’t negotiate with those wanting to do the right thing.</em> They <em>punished</em> those who continued paying on homes. And then they took a bail out and sent their executives on vacation with millions in bonuses. And the government shook hands with the bastards while ignoring the pleas of the people. </p> <p>We, however, are living in a rental home (we moved shortly after listing our house, again not wanting to make money off unpaid mortgage, but just somewhere to live), rebuilding our credit, and still struggling. I’m facing complete unemployment next year as the cuts have only increased and probably headed back to government work as a copy maker to make ends meet. Changing careers in my mid-thirties and with two children and without a home to call our own was not the vision all of those years in school. I am not a lazy, druggie bum. I am not asking for a handout. I am not jealous of the rich. I do not want a life beyond my means. I’ve worked my whole life to avoid being here. I was supposed to have a better life than my parents. I want a better life for my children. I pay my bills. I went to college. I am ambitious. I work harder than most people I know. I want to live in a country where people matter more than companies. I believe in civil disobedience. </p> <p>I am the 99%. </p> Mama Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13971658133454513216noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796966551079094452.post-58267437462725540552011-11-13T21:23:00.001-08:002011-11-13T21:23:11.338-08:00Astounding<p>Sometimes Amelia comes up with things that completely blow me away. I used to try to write them down, but she adopted that book and it’s since disappeared. And then most of the time, I commit her stroke of brilliance to memory only to space out when I try to record it. So annoying. Sometimes she something so sweet it brings tears to my eyes . . . and then I don’t want to rush to facebook or blogspot because it should be just a special moment. . . </p> <p>Anyway, yesterday we pulled her big, red chair out for the 4-month photo shoot. After dragging it inside, she wanted it to stay in the front room to play with. This is what she created. </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-jPuPF2kUZD0/TsClumkGX3I/AAAAAAAACWc/CfF5XqYPxhw/s1600-h/DSCN3677%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="DSCN3677" border="0" alt="DSCN3677" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-pm0WvezgWx8/TsCluyxDOcI/AAAAAAAACWk/ZK4by5Kor2w/DSCN3677_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="380" height="286" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-3s0wfl2nUBw/TsClvcC5IqI/AAAAAAAACWs/zHwvmQ4K1is/s1600-h/DSCN3678%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="DSCN3678" border="0" alt="DSCN3678" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-bj6mPjWlHv8/TsClvvmQO1I/AAAAAAAACW0/xH92DjnDi_8/DSCN3678_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="282" height="375" /></a></p> <p>It’s her ‘shop.’ See the register? She tipped the chair on its back and hopped on the platform with her counter. She even hung some cloth bags on the corner. Then Justin and I had to spend the evening and all day today buying things from her. She’d put our stuff in a bag, take our money, give change, and then chime, “Have a great day! See you again soon!”   </p> <p></p> <p>How does she come up with this stuff? How creative are you when you see a fluffy chair as a market? Making Mama proud, that one. </p> Mama Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13971658133454513216noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796966551079094452.post-56633508920748160232011-11-13T21:13:00.001-08:002011-11-13T21:13:52.593-08:004 Months?!<p>I never posted about Annie’s 3-monthsday. Why? Because just before she turned three months, she stopped sleeping. Almost completely. For two and a half weeks or so (who can remember?!), she got up every hour through the night. The baby who’d slept through the night into morning a number of times at only 2 months old, stopped sleeping entirely at three. It was a little rough, especially since it was not long after Justin went back to work and I found myself having to get up with Amelia in the morning as well. So that went on for what seemed like forever and it’s only just now starting to level out a bit. It was a rough month for sure and I couldn’t THINK much less write or say, THINK. </p> <p>The good news? This is my second baby and I just kept telling myself that this is all temporary. It will pass soon. When it’s your first baby, you think it’ll be forever. That simple perspective makes a lot of it far more survivable. </p> <p>In any case, Annie is four months old! Can you even believe it? I really can’t. I wish there were appropriate words to describe the difference we’ve had with her to this point than with her sister. By the time Amelia was <a href="http://talesofamelia.blogspot.com/2008/09/i-have-4-month-old.html">4 months old</a>, I’d lived an entire lifetime it seemed. I’d spent hours and hours sobbing in the closet (true) and just willing her to grow older. With Annie? It’s just flown by. The stages just come and go in a flash. I swear I still consider her a newborn. And today, a tiny baby rolled by at the grocery store and it made me realize that Annie is not going to be a baby but for a minute. It made me tear up! I’m actually sad at the thought of her growing out of the baby age. I look forward to her being a little girl whole heartedly, but will also be sad to see the baby grow away. </p> <p>Why? Well, she’s just totally enjoyable. She’s such a sweet, mellow, easy, contented baby. I feel stupid even writing that. It can’t possibly be! </p> <p>But it is. And she brings only joy (and some exhaustion from time to time). She smiles constantly, laughs easily, and snuggles readily. She’s as sweet as they come and doesn’t even cry when she’s hungry or needs a change. The only time she gets fussy is when she’s tired and even that is more of a complaint than a cry. It’s really . . . crazy. . . and we find ourselves marveling every single day at how <em>easy</em> she is at this stage. Annie is so incredibly lovable. And I do love that babychild. . . until my insides ache. I could easily spend all day running my cheek against hers and nibbling on her chubs. After Amelia and before Annie, I would see people with babies and think “thank heavens that is not mine!” I saw babyhood as something to endure and survive to get to the good part. And here she is, teaching me with her silly, drooly smiles that babies are to be treasured and soaked in because the speed at which they grow is not always welcome. </p> <p>At four months, Annie is sitting up on her elbows when on her belly and rolls over a lot. She doesn’t roll every time I put her on her tummy, but maybe half of the time. It’s definitely something she can do, even if not all the time. She sucks and chews on her fingers all day and has discovered the magic of the thumb’s perfect fit a couple times. She only nurses for a few minutes at a time and only uses a binky to settle for a few minutes before falling asleep. She falls asleep in the car, sometimes as soon as we get moving, and still loves to sleep in her swing for short morning naps. Since we started putting her to bed earlier (before 8), she’s been sleeping much better too. Getting her to sleep at night is as easy as bath, jammies, milk. Even though I pull out a book every night, we never make it that far before she’s asleep. She typically wakes once in the middle of the night and then is up again in the early morning—usually an hour and a half after going back down. When she wakes in the early morning, I bring her to bed with me and she nurses and sleeps snuggled into me. It’s the only way I’ll get another hour or so before Amelia gets up and since my first baby would’ve never done that, I relish the sweet, warm baby sleeping beside me. </p> <p>Annie’s starting to babble too and I can’t wait to hear what she has to say. She squeals often and appears to adore her sister. Already looking up to Amelia with astonishment. Amelia readily accepts the role of her sister’s entertainment. She sings and dances for Annie until they are both giggling at the other . . . and their mama dissolves into a puddle of sappiness. </p> <p>Here’s to (3 &) 4 months! </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-zjS8ujg5yDw/TsCjWCrL40I/AAAAAAAACSY/yfxJCGibkNE/s1600-h/DSCN3363%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="DSCN3363" border="0" alt="DSCN3363" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-uwNiSMkqGSc/TsCjWlmWkPI/AAAAAAAACSg/keX53xKW50k/DSCN3363_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="300" height="398" /></a></p> <p align="center">HA! A kiss smack from Sister Mollie</p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-5gqACZX7HhM/TsCjXLetKdI/AAAAAAAACSo/ZXWzenrptOE/s1600-h/DSCN3346%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="DSCN3346" border="0" alt="DSCN3346" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-44hXBRFZf_A/TsCjXRNswRI/AAAAAAAACSw/6WZZ0_136iM/DSCN3346_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="386" height="290" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-BXwxiPVfSXs/TsCjXopR0II/AAAAAAAACS4/RdkXp39SShE/s1600-h/DSCN3367%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="DSCN3367" border="0" alt="DSCN3367" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-7yMm6bK6iaI/TsCjZPm7GOI/AAAAAAAACTA/d9vo3ku6c1E/DSCN3367_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="302" height="402" /></a>  <a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-ASitxLgXFcU/TsCjZqkCDJI/AAAAAAAACTI/_qYvL88Yl_o/s1600-h/DSCN3374%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="DSCN3374" border="0" alt="DSCN3374" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-beXzPhPtIKw/TsCjZ8qedAI/AAAAAAAACTQ/yq0GxGtviSs/DSCN3374_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="284" height="378" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-0wIxTXNbiu8/TsCjaShVojI/AAAAAAAACTY/AxeQoiIHEOU/s1600-h/DSCN3582%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="DSCN3582" border="0" alt="DSCN3582" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-EQ2MJ93lJ1U/TsCjau_N4CI/AAAAAAAACTg/FZqH5wSeNbs/DSCN3582_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="350" height="264" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-IiyeSA2IHi0/TsCjbFSJdDI/AAAAAAAACTo/Q0K_A58WypU/s1600-h/DSCN3640%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="DSCN3640" border="0" alt="DSCN3640" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-8oIMYl_1EEU/TsCjbaO5l8I/AAAAAAAACTw/S9WcSImcA1E/DSCN3640_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="357" height="269" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-3Up5ThsU5jU/TsCjb5N8qlI/AAAAAAAACT4/6LhlVxdr99U/s1600-h/DSCN3655%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="DSCN3655" border="0" alt="DSCN3655" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-zDRIDj0s1xM/TsCjcK63r-I/AAAAAAAACUA/t-xr7_lbPeY/DSCN3655_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="350" height="264" /></a></p> <p align="center">     Getting big! </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-3BKMBFHQOY4/TsCjcsj8-AI/AAAAAAAACUI/dtYHgXKTjzI/s1600-h/DSCN3653%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3653" border="0" alt="DSCN3653" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-ZAFmZLEJIVA/TsCjc1jQUKI/AAAAAAAACUQ/u3VJbn40Rkk/DSCN3653_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="312" height="414" /></a> </p> <p align="center">4-month bald spot! </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Vh92R3IV1k4/TsCjdWZC-3I/AAAAAAAACUY/Jf9yYKpbbNo/s1600-h/DSCN3657%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3657" border="0" alt="DSCN3657" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-wO7d84cEB9s/TsCjdoRw-ZI/AAAAAAAACUg/NWa_Hg4UZEE/DSCN3657_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="336" height="253" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-g50g1Kqqnbo/TsCjeIDSmCI/AAAAAAAACUo/LXiaFNeOB9I/s1600-h/DSCN3666%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3666" border="0" alt="DSCN3666" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-4zANjvL4X8s/TsCjee78noI/AAAAAAAACUw/rsVLzfCKfGE/DSCN3666_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="285" height="379" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-9NR7CqN6J4A/TsCjfOxv7gI/AAAAAAAACU4/BbiNn0pt-Mw/s1600-h/DSCN3668%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3668" border="0" alt="DSCN3668" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-BYAlB0cBXNo/TsCjftK_AQI/AAAAAAAACU8/pBFyXMZIVG0/DSCN3668_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="370" height="278" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-jtq6gdEz-oA/TsCjgEkX_zI/AAAAAAAACVI/K0vrs3UVhYg/s1600-h/DSCN3669%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3669" border="0" alt="DSCN3669" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-sIbXF0TGmpg/TsCjgZMOTzI/AAAAAAAACVQ/uhHbA1zo354/DSCN3669_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="366" height="276" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-21VnOCtCX8A/TsCjhG9r4mI/AAAAAAAACVY/u7UnOVQ8sjc/s1600-h/DSCN3670%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3670" border="0" alt="DSCN3670" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-HqinYgHBhvo/TsCjheiSeEI/AAAAAAAACVg/sSvWoihHqIA/DSCN3670_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="381" height="287" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-MKVBuCnnYEQ/TsCjh8YEtHI/AAAAAAAACVo/bB_skuPUHQs/s1600-h/DSCN3660%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3660" border="0" alt="DSCN3660" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-RGa1SaLVYxA/TsCjiZPK2JI/AAAAAAAACVw/DFNA9YzRIf4/DSCN3660_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="386" height="290" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-16lHrRVAbvY/TsCjilVOU0I/AAAAAAAACV4/UUIYioXh_5A/s1600-h/DSCN3664%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3664" border="0" alt="DSCN3664" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-3cecJko3Twk/TsCjjH_x1dI/AAAAAAAACWA/jqadmkfVVPw/DSCN3664_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="373" height="281" /></a> </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-WttashZBcwA/TsCjjiEiWbI/AAAAAAAACWI/q3-z4pVT1ig/s1600-h/DSCN3671%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="DSCN3671" border="0" alt="DSCN3671" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-_MPzuJnIrQM/TsCjj3fAG2I/AAAAAAAACWQ/sGSOy1J1dHs/DSCN3671_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="374" height="282" /></a></p> Mama Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13971658133454513216noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796966551079094452.post-15014078546464558202011-11-04T22:42:00.001-07:002011-11-04T23:11:31.556-07:00Totally Buggin Halloween<p align="center">Halloween didn’t get its due respect this year. Still tired from my brother’s wedding, on a Monday, and with a new baby? I mean, recipe for an under celebrated holiday right there. We didn’t even dig our fall and Halloween decorations out! gah. It started off a bit tricky too. Since Amelia goes to a hippy-dippy preschool (if only public elementaries were as good!), they have a no holiday policy. I mostly appreciate this policy because we are not religious and don’t really want religion creeping its way into her schooling. However, when it comes to the fun holidays like Halloween or say, Valentine’s Day, I think the kids are missing out. AND I kind of thing they’d learn more by being exposed to lots of different and diverse cultural experiences. ANYWAY, since they don’t celebrate Halloween, I sent her to school in her cute Halloween outfit but not in costume. Lo and behold, we show up to school and all of her friends were WEARING THEIR COSTUMES! So yeah, WTF? I looked at Amelia and while taking it well enough, I could immediately see her sadness. I said, “well you have your super cute Halloween skirt on today right?!” And that sweet babychild agreed with me, “Right mama.” All the while I knew she was just aching to be in costume too as her friends were running around with capes and wings and pretending to fly all over the place. Mama meet heartbreak. What’s a mama to do? Load the baby into the car, drive home, unload baby, gather costume, load baby, drive back to school, unload baby, dress child, load baby, drive home, and unload baby? </p> <p align="center">That would be goddamn crazy! </p> <p align="center">But I did it anyway. I couldn’t stand that brave, sweet, but quietly sad little face. I couldn’t take it. Call me goddamn crazy. </p> <p align="center">And you know what? I walked back into that school with her costume in hand and watched her smile slowly. Not the big, cheesy grin she gets when she’s happy, but the teeny, tiny subtle smile she gets when she’s thrilled. Off to the bathroom we went and as we’re dressing her, she says, “I’m SOOOO glad you brought my costume for me mama!!!!” And off she pranced back to her class, twirling for all to see. And she buzzed around the playground all day I heard later. </p> <p align="center">Insert satisfied sigh here. </p> <p align="center">That evening, we ate dinner early, dressed the girls and headed into our new neighborhood curious about trick-or-treating. There aren’t a ton of kids here in this immediate area and it’s fairly remote in a way. We don’t live on a cookie cutter block, but on a street where  you have to hike up and down hills to get to front doors. Curious indeed. </p> <p align="center">But before we left and before any tears,</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-dqcBqJqbr0M/TrTMkxwRSiI/AAAAAAAACOw/3NqB-_pl5OI/s1600-h/Amelia%252520halloween%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="Amelia halloween" border="0" alt="Amelia halloween" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-RWH2RJwpIHw/TrTMl4DXmhI/AAAAAAAACO4/uzNwG9CdwCA/Amelia%252520halloween_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="340" height="452" /></a> </p> <p align="center">Complete with a stinger. bzzz</p> <p align="center">But wait. It gets better. This bee needs some company. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-fwi54CQysaM/TrTMmGUB8eI/AAAAAAAACPA/T7MSum6I68s/s1600-h/smiling%252520bug%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="smiling bug" border="0" alt="smiling bug" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-tH8iHrLmBbc/TrTMmQjgu7I/AAAAAAAACPI/x1Prlk_jt78/smiling%252520bug_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="340" height="452" /></a> </p> <p align="center">Can you even handle it?! Because I am barely hanging on. The striped tights on both? STOP! It’s too much. And you know that my favorite name for Amelia is Bug right? So yeah. Oh and Amelia loves the <a href="http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/ladybug-girl-and-bumblebee-boy-david-soman/1100191278?ean=9780803733398&itm=1&usri=ladybug%252bgirl%252band%252bbumblebee%252bboy">Ladybug Girl books</a>. In one of them, she meets Bumblebee Boy and they make the Bug Squad. Perfect all around. </p> <p align="center">The Bug Squad! </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-2pgM3V7OCrk/TrTMncK90VI/AAAAAAAACPQ/Knxkc6OYSvM/s1600-h/Bug%252520squad%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="Bug squad" border="0" alt="Bug squad" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-lULCzgbm5II/TrTMn9zw7RI/AAAAAAAACPY/KrVep4tvKr4/Bug%252520squad_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="434" height="326" /></a> </p> <p align="center">The Disinterested Bug Squad! </p> <p align="center"></p> <p align="center"></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-Y9mrGrMz4OU/TrTMoYZtoCI/AAAAAAAACPg/08tpkghl958/s1600-h/bug%252520squad2%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="bug squad2" border="0" alt="bug squad2" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-OuLJ7uVOeDM/TrTMo-ZtH6I/AAAAAAAACPo/4Hnpqj1l5pM/bug%252520squad2_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="434" height="326" /></a> </p> <p align="center">Mama and her babies (I still can’t believe I have TWO!) </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-CoditOEZ0dA/TrTMpgKmNKI/AAAAAAAACPw/d8vRnbdf4t0/s1600-h/close%252520up%252520mama%252520n%252520bugs%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="close up mama n bugs" border="0" alt="close up mama n bugs" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-V-oqEkDBez0/TrTMqLt-ruI/AAAAAAAACP4/xKuPf72G7Zg/close%252520up%252520mama%252520n%252520bugs_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="442" height="332" /></a> </p> <p align="center">Daddy’s Bugs</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-L5NM9gh2Y5A/TrTMsP1yLcI/AAAAAAAACQA/4MM29dJO2Dw/s1600-h/daddy%252520and%252520bugs%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="daddy and bugs" border="0" alt="daddy and bugs" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-VqEM8jw4vtk/TrTMsiWMENI/AAAAAAAACQI/fYVu54FwXhw/daddy%252520and%252520bugs_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="326" height="433" /></a> </p> <p align="center">It’s okay Annie. You’ll get it someday. </p> <p align="center">So it turns out that our quiet, peaceful, and outdoorsy neighborhood ROCKS! Holy crap I can’t even believe it. We went to about ten houses (and seriously had to hike) and Amelia scored THREE full candy bars, a full (sealed) bag of microwave popcorn, three fruit roll ups, and handfuls of other stuff. It turns out that a lot of our neighbors are retired (read: big lovers of babychildren) and there aren’t a lot of kids in the area and most of them go to the more suburban neighborhood a mile away (more bang for the buck I guess), so each house only gets a handful of treaters at most. But they are beloved! Not only did she score major loot, but we had to stop and introduce her and us at every house, tell everyone where we live, all about the girls, etc. We literally stopped and met the people at every house and hung out talking before moving onto the next house. So small town. And so sweet and loving and safe. There is something so comforting in being surrounded by people who adore your babies. And there were no punk kids out being assholes. Just good, innocence all abound. Several of the houses were decorated really spooky only for us to find out they didn’t have small children anymore! They just liked to be festive and participate. My favorite house? We walked up to it and I could see through the kitchen window two women about 50ish hanging out watching tv in furry, sparkly tiaras. When Amelia rang the doorbell, they both jumped up and RAN to the door giggling. And oh, did the fawn all over the girls, gushing this and that. So fabulous all around. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-A5ZxQ89eemE/TrTMtF4HtzI/AAAAAAAACQQ/b8PwL02gU54/s1600-h/bee%252520front%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="bee front" border="0" alt="bee front" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/--N0uFYuuYBk/TrTMttDBtzI/AAAAAAAACQY/KXDleKi1QvU/bee%252520front_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="460" height="346" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-c4fVpn3-eGk/TrTMuEKzqwI/AAAAAAAACQg/GwhjwF8MVGc/s1600-h/amelia%252520back%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="amelia back" border="0" alt="amelia back" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-etuEbm4CCMo/TrTMuvkHlRI/AAAAAAAACQo/ybFsyK03vwA/amelia%252520back_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="353" height="469" /></a> </p> <p align="center">Amelia was really dialed into Halloween this year. Not only asking Trick-or-Treat and saying thank you, but also totally chatting it up with everyone who looked at her. As we were leaving one house, she tossed over her shoulder, “You have a really beautiful yard!” And as the owners closed the door, I heard the wife say to her husband, “Wasn’t she just a doll?!” Swoon. </p> <p align="center">And Annie? She was the perfect little ladybug! It was definitely pushing into her bedtime and she didn’t fuss at all. And she stayed in that costume the whole time! Who does that? We could’ve never gone out that late with Amelia at that age and I’m pretty sure she was over the costume after a minute. Ah, the second baby. They are more flexible and agreeable just by the nature of their existence, no? </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-AJJ24MGAqDE/TrTMvDihTEI/AAAAAAAACQw/B6Vaa8uuQrA/s1600-h/annie%252520face%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="annie face" border="0" alt="annie face" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-2eE6yT3Cwws/TrTMvhCTwFI/AAAAAAAACQ4/IyJRpfBHmWI/annie%252520face_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="441" height="332" /></a> </p> <p align="center">And speaking of first Halloweens . . . we took this picture of Annie</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-68BVjxQpTKE/TrTMv2bhyDI/AAAAAAAACRA/lcQRWtQkGIs/s1600-h/annie%252520remake%252520pic%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="annie remake pic" border="0" alt="annie remake pic" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-vyJWuPHIRDs/TrTMwbOLPFI/AAAAAAAACRI/vNiG6Mo-j-I/annie%252520remake%252520pic_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="441" height="332" /></a> </p> <p align="center">Because we have this picture of Amelia</p> <p align="center"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4QXhKekSmZw/SQ28EZeuXkI/AAAAAAAAAXE/IRf9G3TUXs0/s400/DSC01386.JPG" width="461" height="346" /></p> <p align="center">Please note the cheeks, nose, lips, tongue, eyes. And CHEEKS. Is it wrong that I feel as if I rolled the dice and hit the jackpot. . . twice? </p> <p align="center">It was a good night all around, even if not given its proper due. </p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center">Ghosts of Halloween Past</p> <p align="center">I never got around to posting about Halloween last year, so here are a few pics of our last Halloween with an only child. </p> <p align="center"><img src="http://im1.shutterfly.com/media/47a0cf24b3127ccefbdf64f4ac5900000040O18Actmrhizctge3nws/cC/f%3D0/ps%3D50/r%3D1/rx%3D550/ry%3D400/" width="597" height="434" /></p> <p align="center"><img src="http://im1.shutterfly.com/media/47a0cf24b3127ccefbde8d84cc8900000050O08Actmrhizctge3nws/cC/f%3D0/ps%3D50/r%3D0/rx%3D550/ry%3D400/" /></p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center">We had no idea what was about to happen . . . from this </p> <p align="center"><img src="http://im1.shutterfly.com/media/47a0cf24b3127ccefbdf389eac1d00000030O08Actmrhizctge3nws/cC/f%3D0/ps%3D50/r%3D0/rx%3D550/ry%3D400/" /></p> <p align="center">to this </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-ocjw6wvKHkQ/TrTMw6hwu9I/AAAAAAAACSE/8XkGl2xu50Y/s1600-h/all%2525204%252520halloween%25255B5%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="all 4 halloween" border="0" alt="all 4 halloween" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/--S-Ux2sUD_U/TrTMxXrFJxI/AAAAAAAACSI/SJbVZPEcYf0/all%2525204%252520halloween_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="460" height="347" /></a> </p> <p align="center">Amazing what 12 short months can do! Ohhhh, I look so much more tired in the second one. Sigh. </p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center">Since nobody around really takes a lot of pictures, Halloween is one of the only times a year that I get a picture with my kid(s). </p> <p align="center">2008 (Poor, tired mama)</p> <p align="center"><img src="http://im1.shutterfly.com/media/47b8cf23b3127ccec5d0d38df45300000050O08Actmrhizctge3nws/cC/f%3D0/ps%3D50/r%3D0/rx%3D550/ry%3D400/" /></p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center"><img src="http://im1.shutterfly.com/media/47b9cf20b3127ccef8d716dcab6500000030O08Actmrhizctge3nws/cC/f%3D0/ps%3D50/r%3D0/rx%3D550/ry%3D400/" /></p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center"><img src="http://im1.shutterfly.com/media/47a0cf24b3127ccefbdf1bb1ecbb00000050O08Actmrhizctge3nws/cC/f%3D0/ps%3D50/r%3D0/rx%3D550/ry%3D400/" /></p> <p align="center">(side note: good grief, I miss our house. sniff.) </p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-XQrRejF35Fw/TrTMyFuAahI/AAAAAAAACRg/-rVQUCQvs64/s1600-h/mama%252520and%252520bugs%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="mama and bugs" border="0" alt="mama and bugs" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Cr776IoaWWk/TrTMylsNQJI/AAAAAAAACRo/5L8k2lse4ZM/mama%252520and%252520bugs_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="507" height="381" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Y4yFNTP9rA8/TrTMzwqkoJI/AAAAAAAACSQ/fVS_RbccbbE/s1600-h/mama%252520and%252520amelia%252520edited%25255B6%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="mama and amelia edited" border="0" alt="mama and amelia edited" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-02g7xFjbSzw/TrTM0Mw8wYI/AAAAAAAACSU/910CWgQ3gZE/mama%252520and%252520amelia%252520edited_thumb%25255B4%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="416" height="261" /></a></p> Mama Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13971658133454513216noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796966551079094452.post-34592953010611085892011-11-03T15:08:00.001-07:002011-11-03T15:08:21.944-07:00Punkins for the Punkins (part 4)<p>We’ve been running through the standard fall activities this year. And with a baby, it really is <em>running</em>. When a baby wakes up, it’s like turning over the hourglass and you’ve got to get through your day in the short spurts when the sand pours. When it stops, everyone stops. Even though I’m not working this semester (why, why, WHY can’t I just stay home until they go to school?!), it’s still been difficult to get through the various festivities. I remember when Amelia was a baby, it was kind of like going through the motions that first year as well. We are doing our best at hitting the important things, but not feeling very um, <em>festive</em> about it. It’s all just <em>tiring</em>. This fall has been particularly exhausting because my brother got married on the 22nd. Holy crap that added a ton of events into an already eventful month (pics from that to come soon). Not to mention that a little SOMEbody was in the wedding as the flower girl, which created about 6 months of mama stress leading up to the big day. Oof. </p> <p>Anyway, we did the major October events—plus some. </p> <p>On the Monday after the Wedding Extravaganza, Amelia’s school went to the Pumpkin Patch for a field trip. And guess who drove/chaperoned? Moi! Despite the fact that I wanted to crawl into a hole and sleep for a month (oh, did I mention how Annie stopped sleeping almost completely for two weeks before the wedding?), I loaded my car with kidlets and headed to the Patch! Now I don’t typically post photos of other peoples’ children without their permission, but just this once. . . </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-A7LfaXp59Yk/TrMQUkPytHI/AAAAAAAACKs/_6gr3hNSlQM/s1600-h/car%252520group%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="car group" border="0" alt="car group" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-yk0IBeemGxQ/TrMQVWAL4EI/AAAAAAAACKw/DTcci9ffyRI/car%252520group_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="472" height="355" /></a> </p> <p>This is what my car looked like—plus a teacher as passenger. Could they be any cuter? I mean seriously. Now this might sound weird, but this scene found me very emotional that day. I always wanted to be the kid whose mom drove to the field trips and visited class on party days and now I am that mom. I felt fortunate that despite how disillusioned I am with work right now (as in looking for another job kind of disillusionment), but it does allow me an alternative schedule to be available for things like this. And I feel grateful that we have a vehicle that allows for so many people. When we bought the Pilot, we envisioned it full of children on the way to fun times like this. I can’t believe how quickly it’s begun—and that I have a life that allows it. It made me tear up like an exhausted and emotional mommy! Amelia was so excited that I was there and proud that her mama was with her school. And it just about melted my heart into a puddle when I was holding two little hands that were holding the hands of other little people. Adorable. </p> <p>I was dreading the chaos of herding a bunch of preschoolers through a pumpkin patch, but it was surprisingly easy, organized, and quick. <a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-PytyUNPmGO4/TrMQWEahDuI/AAAAAAAACK4/5nkvtuKn5hk/s1600-h/Amelia%252520pumpkin%252520patch%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="Amelia pumpkin patch" border="0" alt="Amelia pumpkin patch" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-XjVjB87Kf54/TrMQWxu6ciI/AAAAAAAACLE/4He10AkBVEc/Amelia%252520pumpkin%252520patch_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="496" height="373" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p>Looky my pumpkin! Amelia picked the smallest one she could find and adopted it. While everyone else put their bigger pumpkins on the cart, she carried hers all the way to the car. </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-xJtnV9S7XPA/TrMQYCifrJI/AAAAAAAACLM/rBWyUPEy47w/s1600-h/pumpkin%252521%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="pumpkin!" border="0" alt="pumpkin!" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Qk7I7VwS5lQ/TrMQZY2fwPI/AAAAAAAACLU/qym3jPVsv-4/pumpkin%252521_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="504" height="379" /></a> </p> <p>And since she got to go to the Patch with her school, we planned on just skipping the hectic family trip this year. And then we felt guilty because Amelia went to the PP as a baby and we should at least get a bigger pumpkin for the porch (because we MAY actually carve one this year) and because Annie deserved her own first Patch experience. . . blah blah. The second kid thing is tough like that. So we actually went to another Pumpkin Patch only 2 days before Halloween. Seems like too strong a tradition not to I guess. I mean, we have pictures of us all going since Amelia was <a href="http://talesofamelia.blogspot.com/2008/10/punkins-for-punkin.html">5 months old.</a> </p> <p>We went to a small place in our new town. It was okay, but my favorite is still Fog Willow near our old house. I’m pretty sure that the man driving us on the hay ride at this new place was drunk. Seriously. Anyway, it still had the usual suspects—pumpkins, slides, hay ride, and bouncy house. Wait, bouncy house? What the . . .? Seriously, when did bouncy houses become mandatory at every kid function?? It was pretty small though and all the pumpkins were bunched together. I prefer it when you can walk all around and look for the perfect punkin. Like looking for the Christmas tree. And the funny thing is that though we were really there out of guilt for the second baby, it was still Amelia’s fun. It’s always like that. </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Qv4Qo_AIswo/TrMQabKpdlI/AAAAAAAACLc/XQNmcfI6N4M/s1600-h/cute%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="cute" border="0" alt="cute" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-4lmJqLRZpdk/TrMQbfimDbI/AAAAAAAACLk/rpt9hDFty9I/cute_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="484" height="364" /></a>  </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Ly0rU-0k4Cs/TrMQcZ8s5zI/AAAAAAAACL0/3Cx1N4W5UjM/s1600-h/family%252520patch%252520day%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="family patch day" border="0" alt="family patch day" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-rTPmOeAcMeE/TrMQetWaiuI/AAAAAAAACL8/YvL2te4uXQo/family%252520patch%252520day_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="487" height="366" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-QUi_i-K1C6g/TrMQfkENJJI/AAAAAAAACME/Aoq93cDSkHs/s1600-h/justin%252520and%252520amelia%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="justin and amelia" border="0" alt="justin and amelia" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-6HsBssxdfMM/TrMQg83aVHI/AAAAAAAACMM/lnp9KWyu2gI/justin%252520and%252520amelia_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="488" height="367" /></a></p> <p>No sleep for two weeks doesn’t photograph so well . . . but I figure may as well document the exhaustion. </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-zU70ISbS2Ww/TrMQh9jxSVI/AAAAAAAACMU/XI8oRbNKRsA/s1600-h/annie%252520and%252520mama%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="annie and mama" border="0" alt="annie and mama" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-urfGynGjDuw/TrMQiow7K8I/AAAAAAAACMc/bdlv-bs79pI/annie%252520and%252520mama_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="501" height="377" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-M63DS167ADs/TrMQj-tChlI/AAAAAAAACMk/fn50zUlb_cg/s1600-h/my%252520babies%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="my babies" border="0" alt="my babies" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-fGzuv3YiW5A/TrMQkq28zVI/AAAAAAAACMw/LFgjQJaTlQI/my%252520babies_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="504" height="379" /></a></p> <p> </p> <p>When we went to the community Harvest Festival here in town a couple weeks before this, Amelia bought tickets to go into the big bouncy obstacle course thing. She got halfway through, then stuck, and then took that crawl of shame back to the front. Then she wanted to go on the big bouncy slide, got two steps up the ladder and right back down. She is a very fearful kid, low on the courage side and high on the careful side. We always call her our little Hall Monitor because she plays by the rules and insists that everyone else does too. With exception to the hardship in getting her to do something new (ahem, like swim lessons), I’m mostly pretty cool with the carefulness. Perfect for the older sibling, no? And of my blood for sure. </p> <p>In any case, we thought we were destined for tears and doom when we saw this monstrosity. </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-xSNTQh6Lsp8/TrMQmcUhpNI/AAAAAAAACM4/q3zfVzXkGgU/s1600-h/dragon%252520slide%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="dragon slide" border="0" alt="dragon slide" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-EfZkZUlhb98/TrMQnBbUtcI/AAAAAAAACNA/JTp5bcdO4Zk/dragon%252520slide_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="524" height="394" /></a></p> <p>She <em>wants </em>to go on these things so badly. And then she feels just terrible when she can’t convince herself to try. It’s a serious battle and after the Harvest Fest incidents, she put her head down and pouted till we got home. So sad. But here were were and she said she wanted to go down the slide. <em>Great.</em> So after some serious pep talking on our part, she headed up. . . and right back down. </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-3AgRJe_dfto/TrMQpKCnC2I/AAAAAAAACNI/0rBw1jsehJQ/s1600-h/coming%252520down%252520ladder%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="coming down ladder" border="0" alt="coming down ladder" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-DEjXnJr6X7k/TrMQrLIN-GI/AAAAAAAACNQ/vivOb9-qNSk/coming%252520down%252520ladder_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="320" height="426" /></a>      </p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p>Sigh. What are parents supposed to do in this situation? You don’t want to force them and make them miserable, but then you know that if they’d just try, they’d love it. ACK! Well this time, we were not having it. No. Our kid was not going to miss out on the goddamn bouncy dragon slide thing. So . . . </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-G4eYlksDiYw/TrMQtTGqY2I/AAAAAAAACNY/Sn3_qcINxXA/s1600-h/daddy%252520going%252520up%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="daddy going up" border="0" alt="daddy going up" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-w395aeI3IHI/TrMQvBBP-qI/AAAAAAAACNg/PtF3MhgoQ10/daddy%252520going%252520up_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="324" height="430" /></a></p> <p>And once he got her up the ladder, all she had to do </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-ZpzJTCTfuBM/TrMQwDdGIoI/AAAAAAAACNs/SoDOxmXMows/s1600-h/coming%252520down%252520slide%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="coming down slide" border="0" alt="coming down slide" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-8BizVZHFYLI/TrMQxfV-2wI/AAAAAAAACN4/2ZgbxMdknoI/coming%252520down%252520slide_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="413" height="311" /></a></p> <p>Now this slide had some real speed and she had her worried face on the whole way down. It went so fast that she tumbled to the end. Promptly stood up, smiled, and up she went again. On her own. Again. And Again. And Again. She even lost the worried face after the first um, ten times and got crazy with her approach.  Stupid, bouncy slide ladder terror? Done.</p> <p>And of course, there were punkins too. </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-yD1zrcGfT2U/TrMQyjNviiI/AAAAAAAACOA/RbSUEsjrOg0/s1600-h/wheel%252520barrel%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="wheel barrel" border="0" alt="wheel barrel" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-a0P579kptIg/TrMQzWEA8oI/AAAAAAAACOI/qQd1FpqCQgw/wheel%252520barrel_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="402" height="302" /></a> </p> <p>Oh and Annie was there too. lol In her Halloween shirt that was too hot to wear until the weekend before Halloween. I hereby declare NOT to buy long sleeved Halloween shirts again. It’s always too hot to wear them more than once if at all. So annoying. On another, far more important note, do you see those thighs? I cut off her head just to get those chunks o’ meat in the picture. I just want to bite them! I can’t stand it. </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-d34mTZk2pJg/TrMQ0NPDdrI/AAAAAAAACOQ/q-as9DK733U/s1600-h/Annie%252520patch%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; border-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; border-right: 0px" title="Annie patch" border="0" alt="Annie patch" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-CZCa8HxPlDc/TrMQ1Iy6QLI/AAAAAAAACOY/KwIaSM2mYgk/Annie%252520patch_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="341" height="453" /></a></p> <p>And just for kicks, here’s Amelia on her <a href="http://talesofamelia.blogspot.com/2008/10/punkins-for-punkin.html">first trip</a> to the Patch, five months. </p> <p> <img style="display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4QXhKekSmZw/SP0cfamGciI/AAAAAAAAATw/R04B8uSaGow/s400/DSC01284.JPG" width="439" height="329" /></p> Mama Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13971658133454513216noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796966551079094452.post-5631475979853259722011-11-01T13:01:00.001-07:002011-11-01T13:01:27.841-07:00November First<p align="left">We moved at the beginning of February to a new town and in the middle of a terrible rain storm. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-AOJbdRyWiB4/TrBPttt0p8I/AAAAAAAACDQ/V_aqHJDtBls/s1600-h/DSCN2841%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN2841" border="0" alt="DSCN2841" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ZaImE5ko-bM/TrBPt9BjLNI/AAAAAAAACDY/f_TqRSoghK4/DSCN2841_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="397" height="300" /></a></p> <p align="left">Life was fairly gloomy at the time. Sick, pregnant, and stressed, we were betting all of our chips on a sunnier future after all of the strife. That very first night in our ‘new’ home, we woke up to something we’d never seen in our own yard. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-suBWb8EhvVM/TrBPuqCeEKI/AAAAAAAACDg/Ss2jHcR-_yg/s1600-h/DSCN2843%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN2843" border="0" alt="DSCN2843" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-jmWPym7IMtc/TrBPu_82GAI/AAAAAAAACDo/r6-lK4hsveM/DSCN2843_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="397" height="300" /></a>     </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-olOsM_dTMe0/TrBPvoz1DtI/AAAAAAAACDw/DLF3ahUPGEo/s1600-h/DSCN2842%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN2842" border="0" alt="DSCN2842" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-DTt7H4IXg-A/TrBPwKTySeI/AAAAAAAACD4/Vw4mwzAeKHI/DSCN2842_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="396" height="300" /></a></p> <p align="left">We woke up feeling like we were truly starting a new day, chapter, life. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-NUw4PRu5bys/TrBPwQqhllI/AAAAAAAACEA/kWL6-llCr28/s1600-h/841%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="841" border="0" alt="841" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-D3dGVIJkrR4/TrBPw0m7B9I/AAAAAAAACEI/IjxhIGeeOxA/841_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="293" height="389" /></a></p> <p align="left">Of course, then it continued to rain/snow for the next 5 months and I continued in illness and thing were generally pretty poopy. When the sun finally came out to stay, I was out of school for the summer, towards the end of pregnancy, and life improved dramatically. Through the gut-wrenching process of selling our home, we found ourselves in the mountains where our own yard smells like camping and with a swimming pool/spa to soak away the days. It finally felt like things were looking up and we found ourselves enjoying long, warm nights playing together as a family and feeling very lucky. And even after Annie was born, we spent our afternoons poolside, eating al fresco, exploring the nature around us, meeting the town, and soaking in sunshiny happiness. We finally relaxed and allowed ourselves to live in the moment. It was the summer . . . that was.  After we brought Annie home, Justin stayed home for a couple months and we all settled into a closeness we’ll always remember enviously. It was one of the best summers we’ll ever have. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-wq22d2dXtLw/TrBPxKhUmNI/AAAAAAAACEQ/0MLn-3Ap8cA/s1600-h/972%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="972" border="0" alt="972" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-M4sRIDCenKA/TrBPxaetE4I/AAAAAAAACEY/p2rwLaIiWlE/972_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="283" height="376" /></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-dpN98p1UDEc/TrBPxgkVsJI/AAAAAAAACEg/ICPUOJgsxNE/s1600-h/DSCN2878%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN2878" border="0" alt="DSCN2878" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-fDsQRxhos0E/TrBPyENsTVI/AAAAAAAACEo/K4qFGX6uhSY/DSCN2878_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="352" height="267" /></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-nJzFRlu_PPA/TrBPyq7GusI/AAAAAAAACEw/pEQ8znaLUxM/s1600-h/977%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="977" border="0" alt="977" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-rFKW21NL3kI/TrBPy8b-hHI/AAAAAAAACE4/mt92WExcgyg/977_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="265" height="352" /></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-dR6IFu3UU6A/TrBPzXze72I/AAAAAAAACFA/orjJZDp-EhY/s1600-h/1051%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="1051" border="0" alt="1051" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Eiu5tYLVfaw/TrBPzu9ShhI/AAAAAAAACFI/q2qJNswG2kM/1051_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="266" height="354" /></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-yx4-lgV3m3I/TrBP0GKHLXI/AAAAAAAACFQ/2TH8iLmtrV8/s1600-h/1084%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="1084" border="0" alt="1084" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-w8zYlNi-1Gc/TrBP0ddKi9I/AAAAAAAACFY/mVuZu9PReU8/1084_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="270" height="358" /></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-uOOQp15XId8/TrBP03ewyMI/AAAAAAAACFg/594932oJz5Y/s1600-h/1112%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="1112" border="0" alt="1112" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-S-qEGPIirIM/TrBP1VmacaI/AAAAAAAACFo/SAYzthukexM/1112_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="276" height="367" /></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-COskZQNi3T4/TrBP2GUgYkI/AAAAAAAACFw/rWhqaE1euzc/s1600-h/1118%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="1118" border="0" alt="1118" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-OVONYS3QevI/TrBP2a_0qxI/AAAAAAAACF4/N57ZNJfLO2k/1118_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="261" height="347" /></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-wuPp8sowdBI/TrBP2r9gLBI/AAAAAAAACGA/GZfDiXTDXY8/s1600-h/1170%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="1170" border="0" alt="1170" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-lkoKVPGxXYk/TrBP3DAanMI/AAAAAAAACGI/5FRSSAE2-4k/1170_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="258" height="342" /></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-sc4_9TSWAdI/TrBP3hOBT_I/AAAAAAAACGQ/_fa1tOSiFS0/s1600-h/1186%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="1186" border="0" alt="1186" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-aFtm17I2D9c/TrBP3yECXfI/AAAAAAAACGY/jNOjArUNJo0/1186_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="252" height="334" /></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-EA_T4EOYZIw/TrBP4d388NI/AAAAAAAACGg/N0hNw-ocWwU/s1600-h/1178%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="1178" border="0" alt="1178" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-CnfjbFEMCag/TrBP4s_TsTI/AAAAAAAACGo/onk7PQkcSn8/1178_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="248" height="330" /></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-RIWV_AgSli8/TrBP49XNdHI/AAAAAAAACGw/bjJ1vjrg5ks/s1600-h/1194%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="1194" border="0" alt="1194" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-fFx0__BIRUc/TrBP5Ik2bqI/AAAAAAAACG4/IqGqPePjQq0/1194_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="245" height="325" /></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-SJlfT9O1B4g/TrBP5kUBTXI/AAAAAAAACHA/IP77ZhUqzqI/s1600-h/1200%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="1200" border="0" alt="1200" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-bnR0k2cFuYo/TrBP6ICDtoI/AAAAAAAACHI/eJUJj-IZhUs/1200_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="247" height="328" /></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-_VhLckwqCPs/TrBP6d6u-4I/AAAAAAAACHQ/nxUif965GeA/s1600-h/1204%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="1204" border="0" alt="1204" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-eDsDxYIhKCs/TrBP6s5xM3I/AAAAAAAACHY/O3EO30TZCxw/1204_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="370" height="248" /></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-hLhko4r_LG8/TrBP7CeXBvI/AAAAAAAACHg/3-XQ56WHdvc/s1600-h/1224%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="1224" border="0" alt="1224" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-uwqt_cipyYo/TrBP7k27SrI/AAAAAAAACHo/lHMDFZbZrRI/1224_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="279" height="371" /></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-JCOn_bfFIf0/TrBP72Vd2HI/AAAAAAAACHw/we9-i5ZV1EY/s1600-h/1248%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="1248" border="0" alt="1248" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/--4d7Kyg_mTM/TrBP8HIaIMI/AAAAAAAACH4/DeDfxqK6WyU/1248_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="281" height="373" /></a></p> <p align="center"> <a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-idsjmpbCKMY/TrBP8UE_TqI/AAAAAAAACIA/2tgDpi4z6gM/s1600-h/1262%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="1262" border="0" alt="1262" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-p07Ef3ZeDpU/TrBP8ntMWYI/AAAAAAAACII/8vkm3TAX6-k/1262_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="272" height="362" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-etyIG22S8Ec/TrBP89Bo-2I/AAAAAAAACIQ/yK_CJORPn6A/s1600-h/1270%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="1270" border="0" alt="1270" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-PKAtpCJNjq4/TrBP9rcc3UI/AAAAAAAACIY/Plpqwb0LLaw/1270_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="277" height="368" /></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-AZ_1cB-H1zk/TrBP911i8RI/AAAAAAAACIg/_cIihb9Y--Q/s1600-h/1289%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="1289" border="0" alt="1289" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-u7wNKfP3bVI/TrBP-SBjR_I/AAAAAAAACIo/tyPoOK4fBC0/1289_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="281" height="373" /></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-GC507iNSwEY/TrBP-_7qY8I/AAAAAAAACIw/pvBtBg1wQPI/s1600-h/1362%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="1362" border="0" alt="1362" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-N2CQFXP5Hkk/TrBP_Yl-9nI/AAAAAAAACI4/pbWHcMJoFag/1362_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="284" height="378" /></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-I-EW-zMAo40/TrBP_3HZaaI/AAAAAAAACJA/K5hs8ScaArs/s1600-h/1367%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="1367" border="0" alt="1367" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-cVmHyVXbkUw/TrBQBSCyUyI/AAAAAAAACJI/TeyffHqMAg0/1367_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="290" height="386" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-k26xRbUPfQc/TrBQCVqS8PI/AAAAAAAACJU/elf_ExzJneg/s1600-h/DSCN3006%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3006" border="0" alt="DSCN3006" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-9LNWoVd1XNs/TrBQC6sMwBI/AAAAAAAACJc/gjWbS3PqMgc/DSCN3006_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="403" height="303" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-edeudJ9IwSw/TrBQDkJeJlI/AAAAAAAACJk/wde7KnvH7k8/s1600-h/DSCN3040%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3040" border="0" alt="DSCN3040" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-VF9AO-SY7ws/TrBQEE4llOI/AAAAAAAACJs/oGM3sTcri74/DSCN3040_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="405" height="305" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-hglMLkiy7hY/TrBQEt-43FI/AAAAAAAACJ0/OQUAHqua5HM/s1600-h/DSCN3168%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3168" border="0" alt="DSCN3168" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-UsASqHMUfkM/TrBQEwKHyCI/AAAAAAAACJ8/vqkdxBCiHWU/DSCN3168_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="409" height="309" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-sj92DI1SxrA/TrBQFZi-TnI/AAAAAAAACKE/BYH7J0cRegg/s1600-h/DSCN3248%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3248" border="0" alt="DSCN3248" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-1MqN_QSPnqI/TrBQFttzqMI/AAAAAAAACKM/yuW1_fYrvV8/DSCN3248_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="402" height="302" /></a></p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="left">It’s hard to tell around here when the summer ends, since it’s still very warm and we’re all still hanging out in our flip-flops and tank tops. But I guess now that it’s November and Thanksgiving is a few weeks away, it’s time to say so long summer. And as we face another very tough year ahead (the cuts just keep on coming!), we’ll always have those warm months of 2011 to fall back on in our minds’ eye as the moment when time stood still and we became a family of four. </p> Mama Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13971658133454513216noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796966551079094452.post-28277226360366153432011-10-01T13:26:00.001-07:002011-10-01T13:26:34.279-07:00A Year Ago<p>Last year just about this time, I had a horrible, no good kind of day.  I couldn’t sleep one night before work and stayed up all night stressing about the impending weekend. We were going to put our house up for sale the next day and there was a lot to consider. We didn’t know what was coming, where we were headed, and where we even stood in that moment. It was emotionally draining and we weren’t even in the thick of it yet. In my sleeplessness, I surfed the web on my phone, peering at the tiny screen, lying in the dark, and poking away at minutia. I realized in my search for nothing that I hadn’t heard from a good friend in a while. We’d reconnected on facebook and had danced the mutual gushing dance when we’d found each other at long last. We’d stayed in contact and had plans to see each other the next spring. There’s more to it than that, but in brevity I’ll leave it. Again, in my restlessness, I realized I hadn’t heard anything in a while. I clicked on his FB profile and immediately knew something was askew. A quick google search resulted in the confirmation that he’d died in a rock-climbing accident a couple months earlier. I was instantly devastated. I obviously didn’t make it to sleep that night and got out of bed feeling heavy with grief and exhaustion and stress. </p> <p>I felt gutted as I got ready for work the next day. You know those days when your eyes burn, your head buzzes, and your body merely exists? It was one of those mornings. And when our nanny, with whom we’d begun to have problems, showed up that day, I was in a frenzied mess getting out the door. Wouldn’t you know that as I grabbed my keys she said, “I’m giving my two weeks notice today.” I stopped and looked her in the face to hear what must have taken her every bit of brilliance to announce, “This isn’t working out.” It was 3 weeks into the semester, the day before we put our house up for sale, and a few hours after learning that a dearly important friend had died. </p> <p> Have you ever been dumped by someone who didn’t deserve you to begin with? It was like that when the nanny quit. We’d already begun looking for a new person to watch Amelia and pulling ourselves away from Ashley. I had hopes that we could make it through the semester, but I’d started the research phase all the same. Things had gone awry over the summer when Amelia started telling me that Ashley worked on her computer and played on her phone all day. I’d come home early a couple times and been able to verify Amelia’s accounts and trusted her far more than the grown woman watching her. Over the course of the summer, when Ashley watched Amelia 4 days a week, the poor girl had started having potty accidents regularly and almost regressed all the way back to diapers after having been out of them for months. I of course blamed myself for working too much! In any case, it’d gotten to the point that we knew Amelia was not getting quality care. Or hardly any care at all and I’m pretty sure that Ashley knew that Amelia was ratting her out. My girl was a very smart 2 year old, you see-- and if you aren’t that smart of an adult, that would probably start to scare you. </p> <p>In any case, back to that day. I realized that day as my mind almost exploded with stress and emotion that there is NO stress like Mama stress. To think that we didn’t have anyone to watch Amelia the following week (I’d be damned before letting Ashley come back after that day!) or how she would handle the transition or what was about to happen to us all just made me fall apart. I went into crazy, stressed mom mode. I made it through my first class by not remembering a single thing I’d said, spent my break contacting family and friends to gather volunteers to watch Amelia in the next week until we could land a regular gig. I was on the phone with my mom and Justin several times, coming up with a plan. I cancelled my last class in order to go home, confront Ashley, and let her go for good. In retrospect, I should’ve just let her go in the morning because the thought of her being in my house with my kid that day made my skin crawl. On my way home, I pulled out of the school parking lot and saw a sign for preschool next door. I pulled in on a whim and walked in and spoke with the Director for an hour. I literally didn’t know what I was looking for, what questions to ask, or what would work for my kid. I just kind of stumbled in the door wide-eyed and when someone asked me if I needed help, I honestly replied, “I have no idea where to start.” I left with their handouts and quite thankfully, was too late home to confront the woman I’d trusted in my home, treated like family, and by whom I felt betrayed. Justin, always the cooler head, was able to let her go with fewer fireworks than I could have ever managed. </p> <p>When I walked in that evening, I immediately burst into tears. The exhausted emotional stress of that day, the previous night, and the days to come overwhelmed me. I really didn’t care about losing a half-assed, untrustworthy nanny, but the thought of throwing Amelia into a brand new situation without warning just did me in. I wasn’t ready for Amelia to go to school. I told Justin that I just couldn’t handle the thought of her with a backpack and lunch pail trotting off to preschool. As I told him this, he welled up too. My head had been spinning all day and I wanted to collapse and here we had a rather large situation on our hands. Mind you, we didn’t even have a babysitter for Amelia. She’d only ever been with my mom and Ashley. Very methodical and careful parents, we found ourselves at a major loss of where to ever begin.  </p> <p>The only good thing that came out of that day was the visit to the preschool. As we talked it out over the weekend, it really seemed like this school had what we’d look for—you know, if we ever took the time to look. ha. Amelia visited the school a couple times that week and was enrolled within a week of the nanny quitting. And less than two weeks later, she went for her first real day at preschool. I blogged about it <a href="http://talesofamelia.blogspot.com/2010/09/its-not-college-or-anything.html">that day.</a></p> <p> <br />And she indeed went off to school with a backpack and lunch pail. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-J4c8oGaYJ58/Tod3L56ASWI/AAAAAAAACAs/JpGywxfPfKo/s1600-h/6553.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="655" border="0" alt="655" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-yVjHvS_16OY/Tod3MaaFvVI/AAAAAAAACAw/AS3uD5sFK9w/655_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="334" height="444" /></a> </p> <p>And it indeed broke my heart into a tiny pieces as anticipated. She just seemed . . . so little. *crack* </p> <p>And as it turned out, school was brilliant for Amelia. Though it was a HUGE transition for all of us (She’d only ever been left with two people beside her parents), she managed it very well. In fact, the potty accidents disappeared within two weeks and potty training was officially over. (guess it wasn’t me working after all) She was happy, adjusted, and with her own space in the world. It’s crazy to think that it was cheaper for us too btw, which is bananas since it was so much better for her. The switch was tough and there were some downsides to preschool vs. nanny, but overall, the babychild immediately grew better. </p> <p>It’s been a year since Amelia started school and she is the happiest little girl on the planet, I’m convinced. She sings all day everyday, has confidence, and loves her friends. She adores her teachers and learns the coolest things at school. She loves to play school and is always the teacher in her own game. <em>It’s in her blood.</em> I couldn’t be happier with our experience with her preschool and am now thankful that we were pushed into enrolling her. I’m pleased that I didn’t make myself crazy researching schools and going on a multitude of visitations. In the peak moment of mama stress, I trusted my gut <em>and got shit done.</em> And I find myself so very glad that we handled the situation as we did. </p> <p>I took pictures of her school days through the last year. </p> <p align="center">Official Fall School Pic—taken the Friday before she even started. :) </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-CstWNCOCZuo/Tod3My5QGuI/AAAAAAAACA0/x0Suc839K3A/s1600-h/6993.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="699" border="0" alt="699" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-aQqPKumx354/Tod3Ne---8I/AAAAAAAACA4/kDK21BVt9ZE/699_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="259" height="386" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-EBxPVCozBMY/Tod3OCMpnVI/AAAAAAAACA8/QCGZPEO34Js/s1600-h/7203.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="720" border="0" alt="720" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-N_uQTNt3Wq8/Tod3OhmdwjI/AAAAAAAACBA/W8KSThFxbHw/720_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="368" height="301" /></a></p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-QnV_KMIA27g/Tod3Par-VkI/AAAAAAAACBE/X_luX2WZywM/s1600-h/DSCN27333.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="DSCN2733" border="0" alt="DSCN2733" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-cg1_Qc_bAmM/Tod3P-Bl9fI/AAAAAAAACBI/oVRQeIbm_co/DSCN2733_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="399" height="300" /></a>  </p> <p> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-ZQo7esRNiLs/Tod3QWFjs6I/AAAAAAAACBM/k5pAZo12lV0/s1600-h/DSCN27383.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN2738" border="0" alt="DSCN2738" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-X1pvi7f2A9E/Tod3QsrGGjI/AAAAAAAACBQ/S6cz7Zh38H0/DSCN2738_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="291" height="387" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-EksWZVTB5oI/Tod3Re6-JKI/AAAAAAAACBU/_HSU8qVMVCE/s1600-h/DSCN27403.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="DSCN2740" border="0" alt="DSCN2740" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-X7_Clx_FBvo/Tod3RkRJ5SI/AAAAAAAACBY/VWswaVNZwVg/DSCN2740_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="301" height="400" /></a> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/--wVxhYfF7-0/Tod3SYiCkLI/AAAAAAAACBc/C-FyHww9Zjk/s1600-h/7713.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="771" border="0" alt="771" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-kYfr7c4VRDg/Tod3SugxKgI/AAAAAAAACBg/d3gYq4lNQ14/771_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="282" height="374" /></a> </p> <p><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="758" border="0" alt="758" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-vMTzOdTlxTA/Tod3TZsADyI/AAAAAAAACBk/sscvhBGj0Ls/758_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="300" height="398" /> </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-HPnGpFEWl9c/Tod3UOCitJI/AAAAAAAACBo/vSrRaOIm0Go/s1600-h/8134.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="813" border="0" alt="813" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-DmuEM7GLy_E/Tod3UnOX8nI/AAAAAAAACBs/j_5gcyP0Ouk/813_thumb2.jpg?imgmax=800" width="309" height="473" /></a> </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-fwm_kskyvEM/Tod3VF5gYKI/AAAAAAAACBw/G_OxKcYL5Rs/s1600-h/7743.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="774" border="0" alt="774" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-7qsqzCPz02M/Tod3Vr-I_6I/AAAAAAAACB0/WkEI9lF13lM/774_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="320" height="425" /></a> </p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p></p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-q5YBxCYjVJs/Tod3V7OuLtI/AAAAAAAACB4/R-A50Jjwlro/s1600-h/8663.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="866" border="0" alt="866" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-m9FVbnNGG5I/Tod3WXS9kuI/AAAAAAAACB8/4TGbdgcwn5s/866_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="326" height="434" /></a> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-ghyE-wDM7nw/Tod3W-0ApnI/AAAAAAAACCA/eqpV_jZiPxM/s1600-h/9023.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="902" border="0" alt="902" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-0sLIILaEUvU/Tod3XWAPCrI/AAAAAAAACCE/3k2PLwSpjX0/902_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="314" height="418" /></a> </p> <p><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-JcQhRsY6wu4/Tod3X_xZc6I/AAAAAAAACCI/2k6aCra4qIQ/s1600-h/10083.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="1008" border="0" alt="1008" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-nfYsxYaJcqA/Tod3YVvA0OI/AAAAAAAACCM/JeZZUuJcLU8/1008_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="320" height="425" /></a></p> <p align="center">First day in the 3-year-old class!  </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-iP4f_ihIKF0/Tod3YqDJDfI/AAAAAAAACCQ/h_3tPVuAg_M/s1600-h/10893.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="1089" border="0" alt="1089" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-28l_sfeYWW4/Tod3ZHYAgzI/AAAAAAAACCU/XvOwpT_1HWc/1089_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="300" height="399" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-irdtyMRCKCY/Tod3Z1FRjaI/AAAAAAAACCY/EDZoTIyQ7wA/s1600-h/11053.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="1105" border="0" alt="1105" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-LqCZMuOkDmA/Tod3aPkFwTI/AAAAAAAACCc/_EceZdb_gzc/1105_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="288" height="345" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Ar2XRtaMXVw/Tod3avTq9II/AAAAAAAACCg/t2gl7QDqLGg/s1600-h/11293.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="1129" border="0" alt="1129" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-AZmf7BmsGXQ/Tod3bGBOz9I/AAAAAAAACCk/nczQ_WbHR_w/1129_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="290" height="386" /></a></p> <p align="center"> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-_TmlSLO3-6s/Tod3brZpS7I/AAAAAAAACCo/lFf3xKLEVZ8/s1600-h/11963.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="1196" border="0" alt="1196" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-lj-cRBGCudE/Tod3cLJWPoI/AAAAAAAACCs/pCda-Hgip5o/1196_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="296" height="394" /></a> </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-zAGyW_vuWmg/Tod3cr2w2CI/AAAAAAAACCw/o2x8KSMnOAI/s1600-h/RSCN30573.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="RSCN3057" border="0" alt="RSCN3057" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-toYXfIGTWT0/Tod3dEGHCHI/AAAAAAAACC0/nyrWCbzBPsU/RSCN3057_thumb1.jpg?imgmax=800" width="410" height="308" /></a> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-_Zc9A85WZps/Tod3djSVrJI/AAAAAAAACC4/o0gOEymo5Kg/s1600-h/13656.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="1365" border="0" alt="1365" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-qzy0JwjU1Ik/Tod3eUG9DgI/AAAAAAAACC8/C5tcq7c_WNU/1365_thumb2.jpg?imgmax=800" width="325" height="432" /></a> </p> <p> </p> <p>The new pics should be in soon. :) What a difference a year makes! All from a no-good horrible kind of day. There’s no stress like mama stress to make us trust our instincts to make the best decisions. And there’s nothing like an amazing little two year old to remind us that parents struggle more with these transitions than the little ones. It really is incredible what we as parents can do when put in a corner and worried about the well-being of our babychildren and that is what I learned that day in September last year. </p> Mama Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13971658133454513216noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796966551079094452.post-9496233182383783102011-09-14T21:45:00.001-07:002011-09-15T22:49:26.271-07:00Sisterhood<p>Amelia adores her baby sister with her whole heart. I thought there’d be resentment and acting out, some selfishness and general hatred. Everyone warned me about her adjusting and how much sisters fight, blah blah. But so far, I’ve only seen love between the two. Amelia is constantly worrying about her ‘Baby Sis’ and always looking out for her. She loves to hold her hand in the car ‘to keep her company’ and talks to Annie in her special baby voice. And Annie? She turns herself inside out to follow her sister’s voice and her biggest smiles are for her big sister. It’s just too much. Our biggest concern about Amelia and her sister is that Amelia does too much. She wants to hold Annie and carry her around and gets in the baby’s face with too much gusto. Amelia is really an ideal older sibling, being such a careful (read: serious OCD), sweet, and sensitive kid. I couldn’t have asked for better for this moment when it comes to the baby. </p> <p>Now I could go on and on about my girls all day because they have consumed my existence but I know that I’m seriously and biologically inclined to bias. So instead I’ll just post the pics I’ve been getting. None of these pictures were staged either. They all just happened and I had to run and grab my camera. :) </p> <p> </p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-psvg-WC8iFw/TnGClXAkiaI/AAAAAAAAB-8/h5A2KKU7JfM/s1600-h/DSCN3213%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="DSCN3213" border="0" alt="DSCN3213" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-B1NkmfwbPn4/TnGCmWpuFUI/AAAAAAAAB_A/CTxc1gsm6vE/DSCN3213_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="459" height="345" /></a></p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center">“She needs a blanket, mama.” </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-eo-KEtvByTo/TnGCm1UW8iI/AAAAAAAAB_E/ivL6lxi--XA/s1600-h/DSCN3214%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3214" border="0" alt="DSCN3214" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-cl7o4Yc4fOg/TnGCnWgY_cI/AAAAAAAAB_I/cZz_ze7rITU/DSCN3214_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="444" height="334" /></a>  </p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center">This makes her so happy. Even if it freaks BabySis out a little. lol</p> <p><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-CkTmLPsh7NQ/TnGCoLxhvnI/AAAAAAAAB_M/NM-lu3biwnk/s1600-h/DSCN3216%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="DSCN3216" border="0" alt="DSCN3216" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-04JxkjnOWbo/TnGCo2jNnhI/AAAAAAAAB_Q/5zr8H0DyD9s/DSCN3216_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="439" height="330" /></a></p> <p align="center">Taking care . . .</p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Cv2uv2datts/TnGCppzJ62I/AAAAAAAAB_U/-Hm3KrxgA48/s1600-h/DSCN3217%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="DSCN3217" border="0" alt="DSCN3217" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-EytefRtcm7k/TnGCqCJkJ_I/AAAAAAAAB_Y/6qRg_bReaKA/DSCN3217_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="432" height="325" /></a></p> <p align="center">These are all of Amelia’s sleeping buddies. Very special belongings indeed. </p> <p><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-22uU6f71uso/TnGCq4417fI/AAAAAAAAB_c/gf4__k0sy_8/s1600-h/DSCN3218%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="DSCN3218" border="0" alt="DSCN3218" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-K_Ni9GBhe0U/TnGCrZ1kG-I/AAAAAAAAB_g/DBZnswwwXLs/DSCN3218_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="437" height="329" /></a></p> <p align="center">Amelia asked us to wrap her up like BabySis</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-uqlkaFlrR6w/TnGCsGJKYfI/AAAAAAAAB_k/afWoPAzDYCs/s1600-h/DSCN3224%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3224" border="0" alt="DSCN3224" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-JtTv8kWaGVs/TnGCsuvNc-I/AAAAAAAAB_o/C4ilSLj5D5g/DSCN3224_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="438" height="330" /></a>    </p> <p align="center">“You too, huh?” HA!</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-JQa7SumHpNg/TnGCtdmhivI/AAAAAAAAB_s/kT3jGE37gDE/s1600-h/DSCN3225%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3225" border="0" alt="DSCN3225" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/--ErdnEBnmLk/TnGCuGMdYmI/AAAAAAAAB_w/-edCxtqu2xk/DSCN3225_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="443" height="333" /></a> </p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center">You can’t lay Annie down without Amelia supplying all necessary comfort objects ‘to make her more comfortable, mama.’ </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Q1PRc3K3CAo/TnGCuxgDT_I/AAAAAAAAB_0/5A-Uv6sQY4k/s1600-h/DSCN3249%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3249" border="0" alt="DSCN3249" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-COrkM87_cFY/TnGCvWWG3CI/AAAAAAAAB_4/oyz8jIEvMVo/DSCN3249_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="460" height="346" /></a> </p> <p align="center">Do you see Annie looking at her sister?! My heart might just explode. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-MC7GhZKmfe8/TnGCwOyJxhI/AAAAAAAAB_8/onXcAdnMjkM/s1600-h/DSCN3251%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3251" border="0" alt="DSCN3251" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-wU8DxXBzhTA/TnGCwxYKMmI/AAAAAAAACAA/r6Cm3YDkL84/DSCN3251_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="465" height="350" /></a> </p> <p align="center">Too much for one mama. </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-IxdKC6gEDyo/TnGCxq-17YI/AAAAAAAACAE/G7XsvpGU0bc/s1600-h/DSCN3268%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3268" border="0" alt="DSCN3268" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-WartaoZ_Qdg/TnGC0jOwuRI/AAAAAAAACAI/xtwsv5BKBDM/DSCN3268_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="470" height="354" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-AlP2fkZeVX4/TnGC1P0EKQI/AAAAAAAACAM/0fZ5UhG2Gp8/s1600-h/DSCN3269%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3269" border="0" alt="DSCN3269" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-j3j7kRQzIdQ/TnGC12xrLtI/AAAAAAAACAQ/BZ_9MlYpKcE/DSCN3269_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="473" height="356" /></a> </p> <p align="center">Amazement</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-Z3YhndubYgg/TnLjYw3iQAI/AAAAAAAACAg/poWoIiDc4i8/s1600-h/DSCN3270%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3270" border="0" alt="DSCN3270" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-aaDq1A3DR8M/TnGC3AzU7DI/AAAAAAAACAk/7_Z27oS9utk/DSCN3270_thumb.jpg?imgmax=800" width="411" height="309" /></a> </p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center"> </p> <p>I may never have had a sister . . . but now I have sisters. Be still my poor, bleeding heart. </p> Mama Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13971658133454513216noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4796966551079094452.post-59206032517207512152011-09-14T13:40:00.001-07:002011-09-14T13:40:35.480-07:00Two Months<p>Annie turned two months old Monday! And it was the first time that I’ve missed the actual day of a monthiversary. I guess what they say about the second baby is true—she’s always less documented than the first. It’s not really that you are less excited or interested in the second baby so much as you are too busy with two babychildren to do simple things like eat. Or blog. (Equally important.) It turns out y’all, that two babies is a lot of babies.  </p> <p>Actually, in Annie’s case, we missed Monday because the poor babygirl had a terrible reaction to her shots! Her fat little thigh swelled up from hip to knee, turned bright red, and was terribly tender. She threw her head back, closed her eyes, opened her mouth wide . . . and screamed. Inconsolably. For over an hour. We tried everything we could think of and essentially panicked but nothing worked. boo. She finally conked out from exhaustion once the Tylenol kicked in and woke up much better. So WTF. That sucked and ruined the rest of our plans for the day! </p> <p>But enough about that. It’s the only negative thing to say about our little 2-month-old! Annie’s stats: 12 lbs., 4 ozs. and 23.5 inches (I’m skeptical on that though because I don’t think they stretched her neck out all the way. The rolls are deceiving.), putting her at 85th and 89th percentiles respectively. Yeah, it’s a whole different experience than we had <a href="http://talesofamelia.blogspot.com/2008/07/10-weeks-old-already.html">the first time</a> (but Annie is growing at the exact same pace as Amelia, as their 2 month weights are 2 lbs. and 4 ozs. different—just as they were at birth!) She is growing perfectly and looking bigger, rounder, chubbier, and rolly-pollyer than ever. The fluke rolling over was not such a fluke. She’s rolled over 5 times already! She’s started batting at things with her hands and looking around the room to follow voices and following things with her eyes. The best part is that she smiles all of the time and just in the last week or so has started cooing. She makes a happy noise when she smiles that is so adorable, we turn ourselves inside out trying to get her to smile loudly. Her little grin has evolved into a full-blown, full-face explosion of smile. She’s just a sweet little love who smiles more than she does anything else (except sleep).</p> <p align="center">Big smiles<a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-of1f6DkvvxE/TnERBHr7qeI/AAAAAAAAB8s/2cWcnGo-LwU/s1600-h/annie%252520smile%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="annie smile" border="0" alt="annie smile" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-k906HWjxfw0/TnERBoIJpRI/AAAAAAAAB8w/PwfdMxpj1sA/annie%252520smile_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="444" height="334" /></a></p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center">Holding her head up like a professional! </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-tnmgxNmgb9k/TnERCVCPp4I/AAAAAAAAB80/4ASheOp8KgU/s1600-h/DSCN3267%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3267" border="0" alt="DSCN3267" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-NxCYYwMTOS4/TnERDB0vPsI/AAAAAAAAB84/J061VOERJfg/DSCN3267_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="439" height="330" /></a> </p> <p align="center">Rolling Over! </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Rf4LEIZJW_I/TnERD-a9MlI/AAAAAAAAB88/umo4WiY-A5w/s1600-h/DSCN3260%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3260" border="0" alt="DSCN3260" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-v2IqSydS-FY/TnEREayOTyI/AAAAAAAAB9A/vqffIcqhCcs/DSCN3260_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="447" height="336" /></a>  </p> <p align="center">Strong back . . . Super Baby! </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-QhVT2mQJxnc/TnERE4t_twI/AAAAAAAAB9E/N-zH6RxpVYo/s1600-h/DSCN3262%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3262" border="0" alt="DSCN3262" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-sLRd6_8W8xY/TnERFRr-zeI/AAAAAAAAB9I/2PftFAtTjMQ/DSCN3262_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="442" height="332" /></a> </p> <p>When it comes to sleeping at night, Annie is a star. She has slept for 6 hours at a time since we brought her home from the hospital—for the most part. She most typically wakes up between 330-430, eats, and goes back to sleep for a few more hours. About once a week, she sleeps until 5 and once a week, she wakes up at 230 so you never really know. I’ve managed to get some sleep in there too, but am still living the tired-new-baby life. Mom’s sleep translates into many fewer hours because she has to eat dinner once the baby finally goes to bed, do laundry, check email, talk to her husband, or otherwise just relax. Then, when the baby wakes up, you’re up, feeding, and hoping to get her back to sleep. Sometimes Annie goes back to sleep within an hour. Others not so much. So if she gets up at 330, stays up until 5, then it takes me another hour to get to sleep (now 6) and the baby is back up at 7 to eat again. Or the Big Girl comes in to say good morning at 7. *yawn* However, about once a week, I get a solid 5-hour stretch and feel new again. Annie is kind and sensitive to me like that. Now <em>napping in the day</em> is a whole different ballgame with her. It’s really hit or miss whether she’ll go down for a nap or not. There are some days that we spend the entire day getting her to sleep over and over and then unsuccessfully trying to get her to stay asleep in her crib. There are days when she sleeps for 3 hours in her crib too. So we are working on some routine there . . . and I have a suspicion that once Justin goes back to work, we will settle into our own little schedule during the day with more consistency. While Justin’s off, we are doing things during the day and whatnot. </p> <p>Though I worried at first, it doesn’t appear that little Annie has any of the tummy troubles that Amelia had. The symptoms she had at the beginning turned out to be from an oversupply of milk and a strong let-down. That is, she was drowning! Of course my mind went to the <a href="http://talesofamelia.blogspot.com/2008/08/dont-count-your-chickens-before.html">worst-case</a> scenario when all I have to do is look down to know that of COURSE I have an over-supply of milk! I mean holy huge boobs. Once I figured that out, things have been much better. Ironically enough, Annie is a puker. I say ironic because Amelia had such a severe case of reflux that she actually didn’t puke at all--EVER. It’s really rare except in the worst cases. Now we have the baby the pukes all the time but without pain. It’s a mess and gross, but I’ll take it! </p> <p>In terms of adjustment, I’m really proud of all of us. Life has continued quite a bit after Annie’s birth and she seems to have just fit into the fold of our family. Life is completely earth shattering when you become a parent for the first time but when that next baby comes, it’s just about taking care of that baby. It’s not about finding the parent in you, which is a very traumatic transition. Then, when we think about Amelia at this age, she screamed for entire days at a time, completely crippling us in every possible way. Soooo, that we’ve gone out to eat numerous times, taken Annie here and there, and managed to spend time alone with Amelia has been pretty incredible. I’m actually shocked at how much time I’ve had with Amelia. And how much time I’ve managed to carve out for myself even. Although I think that Mommy Time is about to end when Justin goes back to work. In any case, I couldn’t peel myself away from Amelia until I had to with work, so getting away to hit the mall or get a haircut has been much easier this time. On most days, Justin and I crash into the couch with both kids in bed and talk about how good life is. It’s beyond exhausting and crazy hectic. It’s messy and absolutely unglamorous. But pretty good too. </p> <p>Some pics from the second month . . . </p> <p><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-sfyW7RgyApc/TnERGE2XcfI/AAAAAAAAB9M/-mKFNgz9McA/s1600-h/DSCN3220%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="DSCN3220" border="0" alt="DSCN3220" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-tZg9xIr3_ZU/TnERGRjYliI/AAAAAAAAB9Q/YVR0Sl8162E/DSCN3220_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="290" height="385" /></a></p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-V2aQL3Hw-JA/TnERGz1J9_I/AAAAAAAAB9U/jvNS_n9nTrw/s1600-h/DSCN3211%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: block; float: none; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; margin-left: auto; border-left-width: 0px; margin-right: auto" title="DSCN3211" border="0" alt="DSCN3211" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-s-QPXeicrTk/TnERHd485VI/AAAAAAAAB9Y/Wb-VV5aMUYg/DSCN3211_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="296" height="394" /></a>(notice the little somebody always nearby)</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-h8OCl6pL_rc/TnERIH95eBI/AAAAAAAAB9c/_tD_FwDW9rY/s1600-h/DSCN3223%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3223" border="0" alt="DSCN3223" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-E7XhDVvXGHY/TnERIn0VXGI/AAAAAAAAB9g/DlzT_IFGPwM/DSCN3223_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="396" height="298" /></a>   </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-shf1NfaImXE/TnERJOhsEPI/AAAAAAAAB9k/z62X6SgDJWI/s1600-h/DSCN3232%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3232" border="0" alt="DSCN3232" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-czN42htjwuA/TnERJpCh-iI/AAAAAAAAB9o/X2nekXclzd4/DSCN3232_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="314" height="418" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-BiLOvLtcW3I/TnERKceKnYI/AAAAAAAAB9s/0fsmdwaWBB8/s1600-h/DSCN3240%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3240" border="0" alt="DSCN3240" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-E_dR6QWge70/TnERK6ZLa3I/AAAAAAAAB9w/UBcCDVV5n9o/DSCN3240_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="419" height="315" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-WaEN7KXQ3_E/TnERLkrXjoI/AAAAAAAAB90/4A5DOnQCA2M/s1600-h/DSCN3251%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3251" border="0" alt="DSCN3251" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-RNzhbde6qqI/TnERMM3j4zI/AAAAAAAAB94/ZiVmPihHXLg/DSCN3251_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="430" height="324" /></a> </p> <p align="center"> </p> <p align="center">And the traditional shot! I’m 2 Months Old Today! </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-gcicYQFuMdI/TnERM1xasbI/AAAAAAAAB98/LDF4xKN-EHI/s1600-h/DSCN3280%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3280" border="0" alt="DSCN3280" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-Lf8QoXE1Q14/TnERNqZxqkI/AAAAAAAAB-A/eflqgkeHKME/DSCN3280_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="452" height="340" /></a> </p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Qc4ADNoY0Po/TnEROIQEb0I/AAAAAAAAB-E/FCkk1WgbwHI/s1600-h/DSCN3284%25255B4%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3284" border="0" alt="DSCN3284" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-aMYPHPHMsYw/TnERPRXRCfI/AAAAAAAAB-I/KfSMwLZN6e0/DSCN3284_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="444" height="334" /></a> </p> <p align="center">Half grin</p> <p align="center"><a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-imbKXCk742k/TnERQGsaVHI/AAAAAAAAB-M/-JACaKOyEGo/s1600-h/DSCN3274%25255B3%25255D.jpg"><img style="border-right-width: 0px; display: inline; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px" title="DSCN3274" border="0" alt="DSCN3274" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-zssrxl3iKaQ/TnERQq2U8kI/AAAAAAAAB-Q/nkASF6tKyKo/DSCN3274_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="336" height="446" /></a></p> Mama Ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13971658133454513216noreply@blogger.com0