The Train's Still in the Station
I know, I know, we’ve already had this conversation. But it’s going on two weeks now, and the ole digestive tract ain’t what it used to be for baby girl.
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Take My Credit Card. Please.
There’s nothing more fun than buying clothes for a baby girl.
Or, if we’re being honest, more unnecessary. Unnecessary, because every grandparent, uncle, and co-worker is buying your daughter cute little outfits. No one can resist it! I happily change her three times a day, pretending she’s got something on her clothes, because she looks so cute in everything.
Or, if we’re being honest, more unnecessary. Unnecessary, because every grandparent, uncle, and co-worker is buying your daughter cute little outfits. No one can resist it! I happily change her three times a day, pretending she’s got something on her clothes, because she looks so cute in everything.
Web Site Update
Since I seem to spend so much time these days talking about Madeleine's eating habits and the inevitable (hopefully!) conclusions therein, I've added a new category on the right - Intake and Output. I suspect this isn't the last one I'll have to add, either; I'm guessing "Toddlerhood" is not too far off in the future, and "Teenagers - What the Heck??" will be here before I know it.
Over-Protective? Me?
So a fit of industriousness strikes me and I set to making more baby food. We’ve got sweet potatoes stocked up in the freezer and the as-yet-unintroduced avocados frozen, cubed, and ready to go, but I’ve got a bunch of butternut squash in the fridge that needs to be dealt with as well as a lovely gift box of Riviera pears that are perfectly ripe and soft and I know my motherly duty to waste not, want not, so I virtuously roll up my sleeves and give up my evening off.
That, plus I want to hit the mall tomorrow and it seems a great opportunity to test out the new baby food cube trays that I got for Christmas. What, like I’m the only one playing with my new toys?
That, plus I want to hit the mall tomorrow and it seems a great opportunity to test out the new baby food cube trays that I got for Christmas. What, like I’m the only one playing with my new toys?
Basking in the Afterglow
What a one-of-a-kind Christmas it’s been. The living room is a page straight out of a One Step Ahead catalog, and all three of us are well-fed and well-rested. We had an entire day of opening gifts and feasting nonstop, and Madeleine’s received so many wonderful 
presents that her head is spinning. She’ll be road-testing all her new gear with a passion in the coming days and months, and I’ll be sure to let you know what her new favorites are. I’m sure once I’ve processed my first Christmas as a mommy I’ll have much more to say about the day. For now though, I’m back to my sleepyhead who’s contentedly chewing on her new teething blanket, snuggled up against my honey.
presents that her head is spinning. She’ll be road-testing all her new gear with a passion in the coming days and months, and I’ll be sure to let you know what her new favorites are. I’m sure once I’ve processed my first Christmas as a mommy I’ll have much more to say about the day. For now though, I’m back to my sleepyhead who’s contentedly chewing on her new teething blanket, snuggled up against my honey.Frontier Land
One of my most distinct Christmas memories is of being up in the choir loft at my church’s midnight mass, listening to my parents sing through the Christmas Eve service. I can never hear “Silent Night” without remembering that feeling of being drowsily half-awake, sitting on the floor of the loft with my head on one of the steps as our church lifted their candles and sung with one voice against the dark.
On Being Vulnerable
Isaiah, my girlfriend Abby’s oldest child, turned three recently. I was privileged enough to be at his birth and I can’t believe it’s been three years. He’s definitively left babyhood behind, and is now far less toddler than little boy. Abby was the first of my girlfriends to have a baby, and I remember being selfishly depressed when she became pregnant; I knew instinctively that the face of our friendship would alter, that motherhood would change her; that there would be a chasm between us of life experiences she had had and I had not.
Fortunately, of course, that selfishness was short-lived and I threw myself into her pregnancy with gusto, reading up on everything and ultimately being a sort of doula for her during the birth. And our relationship clearly survived, even deepened because of her motherhood. But I was right in that there were things she could discuss with me that, while I sympathized, I could not empathize. Becoming a mother opens you up to a whole new world of love and devotion, and with that comes an exponential amount of vulnerability and dependence on others.