I head out tomorrow to visit family for the Turkey Day weekend. I've basically put my foot down and said that I will not travel at Christmas (sorry, not risking a potentially snowy, nasty drive with an infant); that's an unpopular decision, so going to visit for Thanksgiving is my olive branch.
It's a terrible time to take three days off work, but it is what it is. And Elle will enjoy a few days with people who dote on her. As will I.
It's been a hard year for many people I know. It's been a hard year for me, in many ways. It would be wrong, though, not to stop and give thanks at this time of year for my healthy, sassy daughter, who is doing something new every day. She's discovering rice cereal, is thisclose to rolling over, holds on to toys (and sticks them in her mouth), and is interested in everything going on around her. She's getting more hair, is chubby, and seems to get longer if I look away from her for a moment. She likes her babysitter, does not like naps, and responds very well to prune juice should it be necessary.
I am very thankful for her. And for my friends reading this, as well.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Life
These days, life is made up of simple things.
Getting the laundry done. Then getting it folded.
Elle's rosy cheek soft against mine.
Thinking of things I should be doing, and ignoring them to take a few minutes for myself.
Loading my IPod with songs from Broadway musicals that I want to relearn, so I can sing them to my baby.
Working so hard all day that I barely have time to breathe, and kind of enjoying the intensity.
Running to catch the train home.
Having a reason to run.
Getting the laundry done. Then getting it folded.
Elle's rosy cheek soft against mine.
Thinking of things I should be doing, and ignoring them to take a few minutes for myself.
Loading my IPod with songs from Broadway musicals that I want to relearn, so I can sing them to my baby.
Working so hard all day that I barely have time to breathe, and kind of enjoying the intensity.
Running to catch the train home.
Having a reason to run.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Friday
Dear Elle,
We had a good day. I didn't have to work (I'm still on shorter weeks), and while we have plans tomorrow and Sunday, today was wide open. It was nice not to have to be anywhere but with you today.
You were up early (you have been ever since daylight savings time changed back), and all smiles. You were smiley all day, in fact, despite your truly horrifying lack of naps-- a four month old infant should not be able to stay up from 6 a.m. to 7 p.m. with only one 35 minute morning nap, 10 minutes sleeping in the car, and 20 minutes sleeping in the stroller. That's IT. Seriously. Crazy.
Despite that, though, you were a happy girl. You loved going out and doing errands; even the grocery store is fun for you. You were happy to get not one, but two walks, courtesy of the unseasonably warm day. Walks are so good for both of us. (I confess I am a little worried about winter days where we truly can't get out of the house, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.) You liked hanging out while I did stuff in my room, and you enjoyed just being on your blanket surrounded by toys.
You worked very hard at getting the various toys into your mouth. Right now it is ALL about the mouth-- everything must. go. in. the. mouth. NOW. Sometimes you aren't quite sure how to get the toy to your mouth, and it ends up around your ear, but you figure it out eventually.
You spent much of the day just watching me with those big, gorgeous eyes. What do you see when you stare at me? A woman at the store said "Oh, look at her. She's just looking at you like she's thinking 'that's my mom.' " I don't know if that's what you're thinking with that little intent face. I guess I won't ever know.
When it was time for bed, you went down without a peep; you just snuggled your head into my neck as I sang to you, then went into your crib, kicked off any attempt at a blanket cover, and found your thumb. Now you're hopefully upstairs making up for all the napping you didn't do today.
Sweet dreams, my beautiful happy girl.
We had a good day. I didn't have to work (I'm still on shorter weeks), and while we have plans tomorrow and Sunday, today was wide open. It was nice not to have to be anywhere but with you today.
You were up early (you have been ever since daylight savings time changed back), and all smiles. You were smiley all day, in fact, despite your truly horrifying lack of naps-- a four month old infant should not be able to stay up from 6 a.m. to 7 p.m. with only one 35 minute morning nap, 10 minutes sleeping in the car, and 20 minutes sleeping in the stroller. That's IT. Seriously. Crazy.
Despite that, though, you were a happy girl. You loved going out and doing errands; even the grocery store is fun for you. You were happy to get not one, but two walks, courtesy of the unseasonably warm day. Walks are so good for both of us. (I confess I am a little worried about winter days where we truly can't get out of the house, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.) You liked hanging out while I did stuff in my room, and you enjoyed just being on your blanket surrounded by toys.
You worked very hard at getting the various toys into your mouth. Right now it is ALL about the mouth-- everything must. go. in. the. mouth. NOW. Sometimes you aren't quite sure how to get the toy to your mouth, and it ends up around your ear, but you figure it out eventually.
You spent much of the day just watching me with those big, gorgeous eyes. What do you see when you stare at me? A woman at the store said "Oh, look at her. She's just looking at you like she's thinking 'that's my mom.' " I don't know if that's what you're thinking with that little intent face. I guess I won't ever know.
When it was time for bed, you went down without a peep; you just snuggled your head into my neck as I sang to you, then went into your crib, kicked off any attempt at a blanket cover, and found your thumb. Now you're hopefully upstairs making up for all the napping you didn't do today.
Sweet dreams, my beautiful happy girl.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
It doesn't take much
Apparently, if I fake a coughing fit in an over-the-top melodramatic fashion, Elle thinks it is absolutely hilarious.
Who knew?
Who knew?
Friday, November 5, 2010
Four months
Elle is four months old. That seems completely impossible, but it's true.
A while ago, someone said something to me about motherhood that rings very true now. She said the individual minutes seem to take years-- but the time goes by so fast it's unbelievable. Yes. This.
She's alert and chatty. She likes being around people. She has an excellent appetite and thus the most adorable fat thighs you've ever seen-- rolls upon rolls on those thighs, each one pink and soft and hilarious. She does not like changing clothes. She still likes the ceiling fan. She-- unfortunately-- also likes TV. Fortunately, she's starting to look at books when I read to her, and often seems to enjoy them. She doesn't mind tummy time so much; it's like it's a whole new perspective, and that's big fun. She's grabbing at things reliably now, though she doesn't quite know what to do with them once she has them. She has excellent head control. She can't roll over on her own yet, but let her wrap her hand around your finger and give a pretty mild tug and she'll whip over like a pro (and once she gets there, still doesn't quite know what to do with the arms that are now underneath her). She sleeps at least 10 or 10 1/2 hours per night most nights, straight through, but still doesn't nap reliably for me during the day. She likes her babysitter, and adores her babysitter's teenaged son. She does not like wearing hats. She's not in love with being in the car, but she'll put up with it if she has to. She likes looking at the sparkle of jewelry. She likes being sung to. She laughs and laughs when you stretch her toes up to her face, or when you make noise and kiss her in her neck folds, or when you "fly" her around over your head. She is very serious after about 4:00 in the afternoon. She is not at all serious in the mornings; when I get her out of her crib she greets me with a smile and, often, a little chirpy laugh that I can't describe.
Four months? It seems like four years, and four minutes, all at once.
A while ago, someone said something to me about motherhood that rings very true now. She said the individual minutes seem to take years-- but the time goes by so fast it's unbelievable. Yes. This.
She's alert and chatty. She likes being around people. She has an excellent appetite and thus the most adorable fat thighs you've ever seen-- rolls upon rolls on those thighs, each one pink and soft and hilarious. She does not like changing clothes. She still likes the ceiling fan. She-- unfortunately-- also likes TV. Fortunately, she's starting to look at books when I read to her, and often seems to enjoy them. She doesn't mind tummy time so much; it's like it's a whole new perspective, and that's big fun. She's grabbing at things reliably now, though she doesn't quite know what to do with them once she has them. She has excellent head control. She can't roll over on her own yet, but let her wrap her hand around your finger and give a pretty mild tug and she'll whip over like a pro (and once she gets there, still doesn't quite know what to do with the arms that are now underneath her). She sleeps at least 10 or 10 1/2 hours per night most nights, straight through, but still doesn't nap reliably for me during the day. She likes her babysitter, and adores her babysitter's teenaged son. She does not like wearing hats. She's not in love with being in the car, but she'll put up with it if she has to. She likes looking at the sparkle of jewelry. She likes being sung to. She laughs and laughs when you stretch her toes up to her face, or when you make noise and kiss her in her neck folds, or when you "fly" her around over your head. She is very serious after about 4:00 in the afternoon. She is not at all serious in the mornings; when I get her out of her crib she greets me with a smile and, often, a little chirpy laugh that I can't describe.
Four months? It seems like four years, and four minutes, all at once.
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