Today You Are One

Beautiful baby girl,

If I close my eyes, I can recall almost every moment.  I hear the sounds and voices in the operating room...the clanging of metal instruments...the doctor giving orders to the nurses.  I see the bright lights blinding me from above.  I smell the cup from the oxygen mask that covered my face through the surgery.  I was terrified.  I was exhausted.  I was drugged.  I was fighting to hold on and stay awake for the birth of my precious girl.

Suddenly I heard someone say, "She'll be born any minute..." and tears poured from my eyes.  The sweet sound of your cry filled the room.  You were here.  You were safe.  You were healthy.  I passed out...

I opened my eyes and you were in Daddy's arms.  Your face was red and swollen, your eyes were full of goop, your body was wrapped up in a tight little coccoon...you were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.  He gave me a nod to tell me everything was fine, and he brought you close so I could say hello, kiss your forehead, and finally meet the incredible little person that shared my body for nine months.

My tears of joy quickly turned to sadness when you had to leave the room.  The doctors still needed to finish the surgery and close the incisions.  You and Daddy had to leave.  I didn't even have the opportunity to hold you since I was still flat on the operating table.

Once I was finally in recovery, the nurses brought you to me.  It seemed like an eternity till I got to hold you for the first time.  And once I did, I knew I'd never want to let go...

Today you are one.  

You walk.  You talk.  You laugh.  You sing.  You dance.  You play.  You smile.  You hug.  You kiss.  You understand.  You have two teeth.  You eat real food.  

You are curious.  You are smart.  You are loving.  You are funny.  You are cuddly.  You are independent.  You are strong.  You are happy.  You are beautiful.

You love music.  You love people.  You love to help.  You love to play rough.  You love your blankie and your nite-nite frog.  You love books.  You love balls.  You love learning.  You love snacks.  You love bath time.

I love how happy you are to see me in the morning.  I love the way you smile and laugh at the littlest things.  I love the way you smell after bath time.  I love the way you cuddle up and fall asleep in my arms.  I love the games we play.  I love our special book time every night.  I love the way you help get the clothes into and out of the dryer.  I love how you show me you are so big.  I love how you can make me smile and forget the rest of the world even exists.

I love your little giggle.  I love the way your eyes light up when you get excited at seeing something new.  I love the way you come over and hug me when I haven't even asked.  I love being your mama.  One year under my belt, a lifetime to go...

Of all the things I've been in life, being your mama is the most amazing, rewarding, incredible, absolute best thing I could ever be.  I can't imagine my life without you.  You complete me.  You filled my heart with love and joy I never knew existed.  You changed my life.  You changed my whole world.  You made me a better person.  

Today you are one.  Soon you will be two, then three, then ten, then sixteen...  Time will go on and I will continue to enjoy every moment, every smile, every giggle, every cuddle...

I will always be your mama.  I will always be here for you.  I will always listen.  I will always lend a helping hand.  I will always give you guidance and encouragement.  I will always be your friend.

You will always be my baby.

Happy birthday to my precious little girl...

I love you, Julia Allyn.

 

The Start of Christmas

I don't think I could possibly be more excited for the next few days.  I haven't felt this way since I was a kid.  I doubt I'll get any sleep tonight.

Christmas began tonight for us.  His oldest son has to work tomorrow and we'll be on the road headed down state by the time he's done so we exchanged gifts tonight.  That also means that Santa will be visiting us one night early here at home so tonight's the night.  

It's already almost eleven and I still have tons to do before I attempt to get any sleep.  I know Punky will have no recollection at all of her first Christmas, but I will always remember it, and I want it to be just perfect.

I remember my childhood Christmases; they are some of my favorite memories.  My parents struggled financially but somehow always managed to give us the most wonderful Christmas mornings.  I don't know how they pulled it off, but we always had plenty of gifts and got the things we really wanted most.  If there ever was something I wanted and didn't get, I have no memory of it now.  

I remember the Christmas Eve suppers at my grandmother's house, Santa coming to my great grandmother's house, midnight mass at church, and laying in bed wide awake, bursting with excitement and trying desperately to convince myself to close my eyes. 

I knew if I fell asleep, Christmas morning would come faster.  As kids though, my sister and I chose to stay awake and giggle for hours waiting for the magic to happen.  We would always wake on our own well before dawn and race downstairs to the tree.  Presents had to wait until mom and dad got their morning coffee made, but the stockings were free game to amuse us until they were ready.

As we got older things changed a bit.  Families grew and loved ones passed on, but I carried the same excitement into adulthood...or so I thought.

Now that I have Punky, I realize how much those feelings truly dulled over the years.  The surge of energy I have right now made it all clear.  I feel like I'm eight all over again, only now I get to experience it all through the eyes of my beautiful baby girl.

She doesn't understand presents and, judging from tonight, she will have no interest in ripping the paper in the morning.  But she surely understands "new toy" and sat right by my side anxiously as I pulled the one her brother got her out of the box and put it together.  She even had to hug her new clothes once she saw them.

I can't wait for morning...I have tears in my eyes now.

We are going to visit his family tomorrow afternoon and then Punky and I are headed home for the holidays.  He will follow Christmas day.  We'll have Christmas Eve supper at my mom's tomorrow night, and then another round of presents Christmas morning when we exchange as a family.  My four year old nephew is so excited this year.  He finally really "gets it" and he will be so much fun.  

We will have Punky's first birthday party on Sunday, where she'll get even more gifts I'm sure.  She'll be one spoiled child before the weekend is over and we return home on Monday.   Given that she's had to wait 362 days to have her first Christmas it's worthy of some spoiling.  And having a birthday immediately after deserves it's own recognition as well.  It's certainly not the most ideal time of the year to have a birthday, but it is what it is and we need to make the best of it.

Time to play Santa and head to bed.  I'm sad that he had to work third shift tonight so we can't play Santa together, but being alone may bring the boredom I need to actually fall asleep tonight.

On a side note, Mama called it just in time.  The proverbial switch flipped in Punky, the green light came on, and all systems are go:  she's walking.  She spent a few days with a couple shaky steps here and there; today she's been walking...across entire rooms...choosing to walk instead of crawling...walking to get from here to there instead of just trying for amusement.  Something clicked and just like that we have a walker.  I am so proud of her.  More tears...

I'd Say That's Walking

We've been trying to encourage Punky to walk for about two months.  If I sat on the floor and stood her at arms length in front of me and let go, she would take the necessary two or three steps needed to get back to me.  Every now and then she would let go of the furniture on her own and take a step or two, but it was rare and she always had something close to grab.  

There was a sudden change this past week.  The occasional, unprovoked step or two has turned into five or six at a time, into the center of the room away from all furniture, and usually with a toy in both hands.  Yeah, I'm calling it: she's walking.  

So, she made it under the one year mark by about ten days.  We expected earlier since she rolled, crawled, an pulled herself to standing so early.  She was only fifteen weeks old the first time she pulled herself up to stand by holding my hands and bracing her feet against me.  This walking thing has been a long time coming...

Even though she's discovered she can do it on her own, she still opts for crawling most of the time.  Getting from point A to point B when she's on a mission is much faster on all fours.  I know it will change in time.  

Walking brings some more worries as far as potential falls and head bangs.  But let's face it, with as many times she's whacked that little noggin already I doubt walking will bring anything worse.  

It seems Punky sensed I wasn't worried enough with her new walking trick so she decided to show me another new trick to push me over the edge: she managed to get on the bed in her room, all by herself, no help from mama...

Damn.  Now things get complicated.  Obviously getting on the bed isn't the big issue; falling off is the problem.  Taking the bed out of her room isn't an option.  Normally I can trust her to play alone in her room for a few minutes if I need to do something.  I guess I can cross that off the list.

While we were playing there a few weeks ago, I was trying to show her the way to get down from the bed...on her tummy, legs first, slowly until the feet reach the floor.  Of course all she wanted to do was roll around the bed.  My mom thinks Punky will need to climb up and fall off a few times before she figures it out and learns the way to do it.  Geez.  There has to be a better option than that.  Makes me wonder how I learned... 

Punky is changing so much every day.  It still blows my mind what she is able to comprehend and do.  And once she does something, she doesn't forget it.  I often say things without thinking about it until she responds correctly to what I said. 

"Daddy's in the bathroom.  Go knock on the door."  Whoa...who the hell taught her how to knock?

"We will read one more book and then go brush your teeth."  A few minutes later I close the book and without having to say a word, she takes off for the bathroom.  She needed to understand and maintain that understanding all the way through two readings of Goodnight Moon.  One normal speed, and one slowly to point out all the stuff in the pictures.  She didn't grab another book, she didn't go find a toy, she went right to the bathroom and waited in the dark for me come in and turn on the light.  Baby Einstein for sure.

"Santa's coming in a few days."  She quickly turns to look at the tree.  I don't even have a clue as to how she put two and two together on this one...

I'm sure none of this is truly spectacular.  I know that most babies her age have developed these incredible talents.  It is utterly fascinating to see first hand though.  The way she learns so much, so quickly, with little effort on anyone's part is amazing.  She's like a little sponge soaking up all the world has to offer...every little drop she sees, hears, smells, tastes, and touches...

Shower Number One and Tooth Number Two

Let me start by saying this post will have no puke stories...I promise...

With the holidays literally around the corner, writing has been pushed aside like most other aspects of my life.  I'm looking forward to January's utter dullness to get back into a normal daily routine.  I have so much to do this weekend; my head spins just thinking about it.

Tuesday evening was a bit exciting for Punky and I.  While feeding her dinner, she was attempting to grab the spoon and do it herself.  She has tried grabbing the spoon before, but I usually dodge her attempts because I don't think she's capable of being successful at it yet.  Okay...okay...yeah, it was mainly because I had a vision of how messy it would be and didn't want to even go there...

For whatever reason, I threw in the towel and let her have the spoon.  She's almost a year old now.  Maybe she can actually do it...

The first two spoonfuls went well.  She let me help her get the food on the spoon, and she managed to hold it relatively level while bringing it to her mouth.  It went all downhill from scoop number three, and by the time we were done Punky had sauce from her left cheek down the side of her neck and into her shirt.  The right side of her hair was clumped with it.  She even had some on her eyelashes and up her nose. I'm not exactly sure if another spoonful even made it into her mouth from that point on...

I suppose there is no need to mention I actually let this happen on a day when dinner was lasagna with meat sauce...  I have no clue what the hell I was thinking.  As they say, hindsight is 20/20. 

It wasn't bath night, but I quickly realized that baby wipes just weren't going to do the trick.  Suddenly I had a brilliant idea: why not take her in the shower with me?  It would be easier on my aching lower back, plus then I would be set for the morning.  I could kill two birds with one stone, as they say.

I started second guessing myself right before we stepped into the shower.  I mean, looking at her stained orange face it was clear that maybe I wasn't using my best judgment that day.  She's not even a year old and she looked a little scared.  She's too little for a shower.  We stepped in...but I was prepared to regret that decision.

As soon as the water touched her, she was so excited.  She loved it.  She was laughing, and clapping, and babbling.  She loves playing in the running water in the sinks, so I guess I shouldn't have been surprised.

The whole shower worked out wonderfully.  I held her while I washed her up and rinsed her off, and then I sat her down on the floor of the shower while I got myself washed.  She played with her bath frogs and didn't seem to mind the little splashes of water that would hit her randomly as I moved around in the stream.  At the end, I picked her up and let her play in the water some more.  When I turned off the water, she started to cry...which sort of sounded like, "Mama just created a monster and she will never get to shower alone again."

She only cried a few seconds, but it was long enough for me to notice another surprise: tooth number two has finally broken through...right next to tooth number one.  It was roughly five weeks in between the two.  I expected the second much sooner. 

Punky is still on the small side, still fairly bald although her hair is definitely growing finally, and now has just one and a quarter visible teeth when she smiles.  People still think she is much younger than she really is, and they are surprised at how advanced she seems for her age.  Then, when they find out her true age, they are equally surprised by her size.

I experienced many of those moments last weekend when we attended Punky's first xmas party, provided for the children where I work.  It was a nice party, and I'm sure she'll enjoy it more in future years.  She was a bit too little to follow a puppet show and stuff this year, and her attention span wasn't long.  Co-workers were glad to step in and walk around in circles with her to give my back a break.  She got her first gift from Santa, and it was a good one, too.  A busy ball popper, just like she has at her uncle's house down state, so she knew exactly what it was from the picture on the box.  She loves it and has been playing with it all week. 

The Meaning of Projectile

I’m detecting a theme to these recent posts…

Last night, Punky had a delicious dinner of sweet potatoes and rice, with some apple-cinnamon puffs for dessert. After a few swigs of her bottle of water, she decided to intentionally throw it on the floor.

We’ve played the “If I throw this on the floor, Mama will pick it up so I can throw it on the floor again” game before. Sometimes she’s amused and it goes on for a bit, sometimes she loses interest quickly, and sometimes Mama’s just not in the mood and she gets booted from the highchair to the floor where she can throw it all she wants and get it herself. Grouchy mama days…it happens to the best of us…

Anyway, last night I had my back to the highchair when I heard the bottle hit the floor. I turned around and acted surprised to see it under the highchair…and of course Punky found it simply hysterical. Thus the game began. She’d wait until my back was turned to toss it, I’d turn around in shock to see it on the floor, she’d roar with laughter while I bent down to pick it up…

We must’ve done it eight times, and she was laughing so uncontrollably. On the last go ‘round, when I bent over for the bottle she suddenly got quiet. The laughing stopped. I stood up and caught a glimpse of her face just before the eruption. Her eyes were wide, her cheeks puffed out, you could see a hint of fear and panic in her expression.

Half a second later the trap opened and her dinner spewed forth with the force of a volcano and the speed of a bullet. It completely cleared the highchair tray and landed dead center on my chest. I had to be at least two feet or more from her at the time. As disgusting as it was, I stood there for a few seconds stunned and amazed.

I suppose I thought the term "projectile vomiting" was merely an expression, only brought to life in horror movies when demonic goop flies out a girl’s mouth just after her head spins 360 degrees. In real life I never saw anyone, myself included, vomit across a room. I didn’t think it was physically possible. This wasn’t quite across the room, but who knows how far it would’ve gone if I wasn’t standing in its path. It qualifies.

Poor Punky sat there confused; she didn’t know what the hell happened. But after one hard swallow, a big smile appeared on her face. There was not one drop of anything on her lips, face, bib, or anywhere on the highchair. None even hit the floor…just me. The only consolation I have is that I had time to stand up all the way after retrieving her bottle…otherwise it may have been my hair or face taking the blow instead of my nightshirt. As gross as it was, that would’ve been much worse.

Of course I feel like it’s all my fault and I feel so bad for making her vomit like that, but I’d say she definitely paid me back… I suppose we ought to save that game for light snacks only. Or maybe for next time Daddy feeds her dinner… She still owes him one from the frozen pizza incident.

The Drawer, the Tree, and the Box

Saturday afternoon, after consuming some fruit and cheerios along with five ounces of a juice and water blend, Punky decided it was time to rough house on the floor with the couch pillows. Needless to say a half hour later, I had a fruit/cheerio/juice/water mixture in a puddle on the kitchen floor. No big deal, it happens sometimes. I cleaned it up, I cleaned her up, and we continued the day.

About an hour later, we sat down for an early dinner of stew that had been cooking all day in the crock pot. The smell filled the entire house, and it was too tempting to wait any longer to eat. Given Punky’s episode and that fact that it was still over two hours away from her usual supper time, I didn’t think she’d be interested in what we were eating but I was wrong. She seemed to really like it, and wanted more and more.

She had some of everything: carrots, potatoes, celery, venison, and some broth. She ate a fair amount, but then I cut her off because I was worried about her stomach being upset from before and I didn’t want a repeat. As the hours passed, she seemed fine.

Her usual dinner time finally arrived and I figured I would just give her more stew since she seemed to love it. It was taking her forever to chew and swallow every single bite. Suddenly she was acting like she hated it, and it almost seemed like she was having trouble swallowing it. Thinking she was maybe just sick of it since she had some only a few hours earlier, I got some jarred squash to give her instead.

She didn’t want that either. Three spoonfuls into it, she stopped opening her mouth for more. I was stumped. She never refuses food. No matter what it is, when it is, or how gross it looks, she eats it all with minimal effort on my part.

As she sat in the highchair fussing a bit, her dad discovered the root of the problem. He opened a kitchen drawer, the one that Punky opens a thousand times a day, and there it was: all the stew she ate the first time around. Gross.

Somehow she managed to spit it up and into her favorite drawer without any of us noticing. Then it seems she politely closed the drawer. Maybe on purpose to hide it, but I doubt it at this age. I’m just glad he discovered it before days went by…

I guess she just had a sour stomach that day. Poor baby. No wonder she refused that second round of stew…given what happened the first time she probably thought I was trying to poison her. I still have no idea how she managed that stunt without anyone noticing… little sneak…

On another note, the xmas tree is up and decorated. What a long project for a tiny little four foot tree. It’s cute and will definitely serve the purpose again this year. Punky seems to care less.

We have it up on a table in the corner of the living room in an attempt to keep it out of arm’s reach. Once, before it was even decorated, she crawled over and stood up at the table. She stretched all she could and managed to grab the tip of the lowest hanging branch. She quickly let go, made a terrible face, and crawled away from it on the double.

It must have had the same sensation on her hands that grass had on her feet this past summer. She doesn’t like it and that’s that. We may as well have set it up on the floor and said the hell with finding a table. She wants no part of it. I thought the twinkling lights would fascinate her, but she doesn’t seem to be amused. I guess in reality she has toys that light up and twinkle those very same colors…and play music at the same time…so what’s the point in staring at a dumb tree that feels yucky?

Yesterday, enjoying my sudden burst of holiday spirit, I decided to start wrapping presents. When I began, Punky was napping and I proceeded to toss stuff all over my bedroom…including her unwrapped gifts. When she woke up a while later, I didn’t give a thought to the contents of my bedroom or the wide open door.

While I was distracted in the kitchen for a minute, she made her way in there. As soon as I noticed the silence, I went running. Sadly, she saw everything.

When I reached the doorway, she was standing up against a huge box full of unwrapped toys. The Wonder Pets flyboat caught her eye and she was leaning over the edge of the box trying to reach it. Another toy caught her attention and she walked along the side of the box to see if she would have greater success grabbing that one instead. She couldn’t lift it with one hand to pull it up and out of the box, but she did manage to hit a button and see some flashing lights.

She had that excited look that all kids get when they see something they really want. Even though she had no clue what it really was, in that moment she wanted that toy. She wanted to touch it, explore it, taste it… I picked her up and whisked her out of the room, handing her a boring old toy as I sat her down on the floor. She looked at me like I was the meanest mama in the whole world. Sigh.

I closed the bedroom door and Punky quickly forgot about the treasures lurking behind it, yet I couldn’t help feeling sad. I know she’s not even a year old and she won’t remember, but I still feel like I ruined her first xmas in a way. She saw the goods… She found Santa’s stash… And she has one hell of a memory.

When we open her presents xmas morning, I really hope to see that excitement in her eyes. With any luck, she’ll have forgotten her accidental preview. She’ll never get another one…if I can help it.

Playin' in the Shadows

As I rushed around Monday morning getting ready for work, my little tail disappeared and got quiet. Silence is usually the best indicator that she is into something she shouldn’t be. I peeked out the bathroom door, and there she sat on the floor in the kitchen. She discovered her shadow.

I stood quietly and watched her for a few minutes. She kept moving her little hands back and forth across the floor, trying desperately to catch the dark spots that were following her relentlessly. Then she moved a foot, and again a dark line seemed to follow so she grabbed her toes…only to discover that made the dark spot sticking out from the side of her foot even larger.

She turned her body around to face the opposite direction and looked down at her feet and hands. No dark spots anywhere to be found. She slowly turned back and watched the shadows gradually appear again. After a few more failed attempts at catching them, she got a look on her face that seemed to say, “Screw it. I’ll figure it out another day.” And back to the bathroom she came.

Moments like this are absolutely priceless. Her dad left so early that morning, and getting ready for work while taking care of Punky on my own can be very challenging…more and more as she gets older and into everything. It was absolutely wonderful to have an interruption in the chaos and take a few moments to just enjoy her and smile ear to ear at her latest discovery. No matter how simple, my mind translates it into “my baby is the smartest baby that ever lived.”

I’m sure I’m no different than every other proud mama out there. Before having one of my own, I wondered if parents were really as blindly in love with their children as they appeared to be. All parents seemed to think their children were the smartest, funniest, most beautiful children to ever walk the earth.

Back then it was so clear to me that some of them were wrong. I wondered how some could marvel at their kids’ accomplishments when in truth they were barely “C” students. I didn’t understand how no parent would ever admit that their child was not the most attractive apple in the bushel. I mean, come on now, admit it…some babies just aren’t that attractive. Stories of how little Joey cracked everyone up at dinner last night, or learned to tie his shoes, or even discovered his shadow, were not funny or entertaining to me. They were irritating. I always bit my lip when I wanted to say, “Please stop consuming our entire lunch hour with all this dribble about your snotty, little kid. No one cares.” How could they not see that no one wanted to hear their boring baby stories? Geez.

Yeah, I get it now. It took having one to fully comprehend. And no matter how cute the little girl is down the street, Punky will always be cuter. No matter what kind of grades she gets in school, she will always be a rocket scientist in my eyes. No matter how old she gets, the things she says and does will always be the funniest, most entertaining stories to me. And I proudly bore many people every day with the mundane details of Punky’s amazing life. This blog is exhibit A.

I thought some of those parents were wrong; now I know that all of them were wrong. Punky is the best baby that ever lived. She just discovered her shadow.

And she’s mine.

Eleven-Twelfths of a Year

Punky is eleven months old today!  I can hardly believe it... 

We celebrated her first Thanksgiving at her Grammy B's house.  Dinner was yummy and Punky sampled all the fixings:  turkey, stuffing, squash, biscuits, gravy, green beans.  She loved it!  Real food...life just doesn't get any better.

Most of his family was there for dinner, and it was nice for Punky to see some of her relatives that she doesn't have the opportunity to see very often.  Her aunt took some really nice pictures of her playing with her cousins; I forgot my camera...and feel like an idiot.  How could I have forgotten the camera when it was another "first" full of Kodak moments? Thankfully, is this day of social networking sites, I can easily get copies downloaded and printed.  Punky's Aunt T saved the day.

The next morning we headed down state to visit my family for the weekend.  Of course, we went straight to Grammy's house for lunch where we got to sample all of their Thanksgiving leftovers.  Again, super yummy.  I think I could eat that meal once a week; it's my favorite meal of the year by far.

Today we took Punky to the mall to visit Santa.  I dressed her in an adorable pink dress with candy canes and presents on it.  She wore tights for the very first time, and shoes for the first time longer than three minutes, and she looked so beautiful.  She almost looked like a little girl instead of a baby.  Yeah, mama got teary.

I expected her to take one look at Santa and cry...but nope.  She did great, even when she turned around to look at him while sitting on his lap, she didn't even flinch.  Once again, mama was prepared for a disaster and she pulled it off like a champ.  And the pictures are adorable.  I really need to stop underestimating this baby.

We walked around the mall for a while, and I bought all of the supplies for Punky's first birthday party, which is just four weeks from tomorrow.  Now, if I could only finish my xmas shopping... 

Punky is starting to take a step or two on her own here and there, but she's still so unsure of the whole thing.  Tooth number two will be here any morning.  I can feel it just under the gum line; one more night may do the trick.

This month we finally made the official change to size three diapers, and have started doing her baths in the big tub.  The walker is a thing of the past now; she hasn't been in it in weeks.  She's even lost interest in her jumper.  Now that she's so independent, she doesn't enjoy anything holding her back.  I guess it's time to pass all of this equipment on to the baby-to-be cooking in Aunt P's tummy.  It's heartbreaking, but boy can we use the room.  Especially with the holidays coming...so many new toys on the way.  At least that's what Santa told me today.

We are heading back home in the morning.  Our next trip down will be on xmas eve.  Thw time between now and then will absolutely fly I'm sure.  So much to do...the seasonal hustle and bustle is upon us.  I welcome the distraction now. 

A Few Small Steps and a Frozen Pizza

The last few days have brought more joy in Punky's development...a few small steps on her own.  She was playing by the basket chair, going around in circles as usual.  I sat on the stool just two feet from her.  Suddenly she turned toward me, let go of the chair, and took two small steps to fall into my arms. 

We have been trying to encourage her to be brave enough to do it for a while now.  In truth, I am so surprised it is taking this long.  She was crawling at six months, and I fully expected her to walk by about nine months.  Sometimes she forgets herself and she'll stand up in the middle of the room, with a toy in each hand.  She balances fine until she realizes she's not holding onto anything.  In a split second, a look of panic appears and she promptly goes down on her hiney.

I've also heard some new words this week.  Cold, bear, and diaper are three that come to mind.  She is mainly still stuck on "car" and "good girl" though.  And "mama mama mama" of course. 

On Sunday, we caved and took her out shopping.  We were set on keeping her out of public unless absolutely necessary with the flu outbreak still looming, but she's been cooped up in the house for a few weeks now and we knew she needed to get out for a bit.

I put her in her stroller instead of a shopping cart, thinking it would keep her further away from people and their germs, but she got antsy when I stopped to look at something so I carried her for a while.  

We met up with her dad in the frozen food section (he always does the grocery shopping) and I handed her over to him to give my arms a break.  He reached in a freezer to grab a pizza, and when he turned to back out and close the door, somehow he managed to clonk Punky in the head with the frozen pizza.

She didn't cry; she was sure startled though and she gave him a look that said, "What the hell, Dad?"  He thought he didn't hit her with it, but the red spot that appeared on her forehead told the story loud and clear.  Poor kid.  Like she doesn't bang her head enough on her own.  Geez.  I know, who am I to judge?  I banged her head on the arm of the rocker when she was only about a month old...and on the changing table two weeks later... 

Punky's new obsession with putting stuff "in" has led to some funny discoveries.  I found about six books stuffed in the drawer with her socks.  Her new tube of A&D ointment was buried in a drawer of hats.  I opened one kitchen cabinet and a ball rolled out at me.  In a kitchen drawer, yet another toy.  

It took me over a half hour to track down her turtle thermometer when I wanted to give her a bath the other night.  I finally found it in her toy box...the third time I looked there.  It is usually in a kitchen cabinet, but now I moved it where she can't find it.  I take scalding hot showers and I don't trust myself to prepare her bath without it.  The water always feels too cold for me when the turtle shows it's perfect.  Without the thermometer I'd surely burn her little toosh.

We put safety locks on the cabinets she shouldn't get into, but I can't see locking everything up on her.  She is curious and loves to explore.  As long as there's nothing unsafe for her to touch, I can't see the harm in letting her discover things, even if it means putting the dish towels back in the drawer, restacking the plastic containers on the shelf, and gathering up recipe cards a hundred times a day.

Sometimes when I empty a diaper box, I let her play with it for a while.  This weekend, I put her in it and pulled it back and forth across the living room.  Big mistake.  She absolutely loves it; my lower back absolutely hates it.  Mama needs to think before inventing these new games. 

This weekend we are heading home for the holiday.  Well, actually after the holiday.  He has to work, third shift nonetheless, so we are traveling Friday morning.  We'll eat Thanksgiving dinner with his family on Thursday.  It's my favorite meal of the year and now that Punky is eating more table food I know she'll love it, too.  

I plan to enjoy my four day weekend.  Then the rush is on for December.  Christmas shopping and decorating to do, a first birthday party to plan...Only five more weeks until my beautiful baby reaches the one year mark.  I'm sure I'll be reliving the last few weeks of my pregnancy as that date draws near and I'll probably cry my eyes out on her birthday.

There were points in my life when time seemed to stand still.  I was so unhappy and days seemed to drag on and on...  Now, when I want to enjoy every single moment forever, time is flying.  Life's not fair, is it?

The Brushing of the Tooth

It’s almost two weeks since Punky’s adorable little tooth made its debut. I finally remembered to buy her a toothbrush Wednesday. I originally asked her dad to pick one up… and he did… but he failed to read the package where it clearly said the toothbrush was for older children with all of their primary teeth in place. Sigh.

Last night we went about our usual night time routine, and I decided to insert brush time between book time and bottle time. I know it would be better to brush the tooth after the bottle, but sometimes she falls asleep in my arms and it would be cruel to wake her, especially for that. Soon enough she’ll be done with bottles completely, and then we can do it just before bed.

She loves watching me brush my teeth. She likes when I hold her so she can touch the toothbrush and lean over the sink with me when I spit out the toothpaste. Sorry, kind of gross, but she finds it amusing and giggles every time. Plus, afterwards she gets to wash her patties off in the sink when I wash mine, and splashing in the water is the icing on the cake.

I didn’t know what she would think of having the toothbrush in her mouth though. She’s awfully protective of that tooth. She knows when you are intentionally trying to get a good look or feel, and does all she can to prevent your success. You have to catch her off guard, and be at just the right angle, to really see that tiny tooth in all its glory. Feeling it requires some kind of food that can be sucked off your finger while you sneak a pass along the gum line.

My expectation was that I would get the toothbrush in her mouth one time only. I figured as soon as she felt it anywhere near her precious tooth, she would close her mouth tightly and refuse to play that game anymore. My plan was to aim directly for the tooth and make my one shot count. Hopefully I would get a few brush strokes in before she pulled it out of her mouth.

She watched intently as I took her new toothbrush out of the package. I showed her the Sesame Street characters on the tiny handle. I let her hold it while I got my toothbrush out to show her it was just like mama’s. I put mine in my mouth to remind her of what it’s used for, and she flashed me a smile that seemed to say, “I get it, mama.”

I took the brush from her and ran it under the water. She reached for it and immediately shoved it in her mouth. She let me hold the end of it while she chewed on the bristles. I took it and ran it under the water again and got the same reaction. She liked sucking and chewing on it, but while she did I was able to get a few strokes back and forth across that tiny tooth. We repeated this at least ten times and I was actually able to get most of her mouth with the brush. When I told her we were all done and took it from her, she started to cry. It must’ve felt good on her gums and she wanted more.

In the end, what I anticipated to be a two minute addition to her bed time routine turned into fifteen minutes, including the changing of her resulting wet pajama top. Okay, so I changed the bottoms, too. I couldn’t let her sleep unmatched, it would bug me all night long.

At any rate, my baby surprised me once more. Every time I expect something to be hard, it’s so easy. It’s really a toss up as to who’s spoiling who in this relationship. She’s a good girl, and she’s not afraid to tell you so.

For the record, I am fully aware that there is a balance in life, and all of this “good girl” behavior I am loving now will eventually come back to bite me in the ass. Possibly when the terrible two’s hit. Maybe when pre-teen peer pressure turns her into a little snot. Perhaps at fifteen when she crushes on a boy that is nothing but trouble in our eyes. Sooner or later, it will come. I hope I’m ready…

It May Be Time to Have “The Talk”

Sometime time between my post last night and lunch time today, I’ve had a major shift in attitude towards the possibility of another baby… And I don’t know why.

As on the fence as I seemed to be, in my heart I always leaned to no…and it helped that Punky’s dad leaned with me. Maybe putting his words on paper, well electronic paper anyhow, affected me in a way. Maybe I had a dream or something last night that I don’t remember. Maybe seeing my cousin’s baby shower pictures online tipped the scales. Maybe listening to my sister, filled with anticipation as her pregnancy progresses, brought out that longing in me to experience it all again. Who knows, it’s probably a combination.

Before Punky came along, I had almost completely resigned myself to the thought of having no children. I always said I wanted only one. I just wanted to experience pregnancy and the love between a mother and child. I wanted that bond that only a mother truly understands. I wanted the opportunity; I thought I’d never have it. If I could have just one healthy baby…

Now I have that, and so much more than I ever expected. It has far surpassed all my expectations, and I am so grateful everyday for my beautiful girl. How dare I not be satisfied with that after all I went through to get her…

I am approaching thirty seven; her dad is forty-six. He has two older boys, thirteen and twenty. Starting over with a new baby was a lot to ask of him. We had talked about it a great deal, but never actually made a firm decision. Punky made it for us. With all my health issues, and previous pregnancy losses, I didn’t even know if I could get pregnant or carry a pregnancy if I did. When I saw the positive test, I fully expected another miscarriage. In my mind, she’ll always be my miracle baby.

So, if I did it once and all went well, why can’t I do it again? I love being a mom. I love having a baby. I love all the stuff that goes along with it, even the sleepless nights. I had a great pregnancy, even with my health problems. It’s hard to imagine loving another baby the way I love her, but I’m sure I would. My baby is growing up so fast; she’ll officially be a toddler soon. I wish I could freeze her right where she is for a while and enjoy it for longer.

Sometimes I feel I can give her a much better life if she’s my only one. We have our struggles financially, and having another baby would certainly add more strain. If it’s only Punky, maybe I can afford to help her with college so she isn’t buried in loans. With two, they would each have less help. I’m hoping to travel with her, so she has the opportunity to see and experience as much of the world as possible. Could I afford to do it if I had two? I certainly don’t want her to be a spoiled, materialistic, little brat…but I do want to be able to afford to buy her some nice things. And give her a good Christmas each year…

Then I think about how old we are. It’s a realistic notion that by the time Punky is my age, we can both be gone. She would only be in her mid-thirties and alone. I don’t foresee her ever being extremely close to her older brothers. I think of my sister, and how much I wanted to deck her when we were kids, but now I take comfort in the fact that we have each other and I won’t be without close family as the years pass by... I don’t want Punky to be alone. Just the thought filled my eyes with tears…

What if, when the day comes, she would have preferred a close sibling than a loan-free college experience? What if the memory of riding bikes with a little sister would mean more to her than a trip to Disney World? What if she hates me for leaving her to face the world alone when I had the opportunity to prevent it? I know, I’m being extreme…but still.

What if we decide to try and we are not so lucky next time around…

What if the baby is not healthy? Each passing day ups the chances of birth defects at our age. What if my health takes a nosedive with another pregnancy? Then I set myself up to be here even less for Punky. What if our jobs disappear? The economy is still in the shitter…

Why is this so freakin’ hard? I just feel like it’s time to get off this damn fence already. I really need to decide. We really need to discuss it. I can’t stand the swaying back and forth. I can’t handle it weighing on me every day. I think it’s time to have the talk. The serious one. All joking aside. If there’s any chance we fall on the “yes” side of the fence, we are running out of time. If we land on the “no” side, someone needs to get fixed. Period.

My attitude pre-Punky was “whatever happens happens”… I wish I could be like that now. I don’t want to end up pregnant and then regret it. I don’t want to not try for another one and then regret it. I feel like I need an answer. I need to be certain, either way, and put all of this mental chaos behind me.

Feel sorry for him, cause he’s about to hear the phrase every man dreads…

“Honey, we really need to talk…” 

It may not be tonight, it may not be tomorrow, but it’s coming. Soon.

Slacking Again

Another whole week gone by…

Between work and Punky, life is flying these days. Having time to write is a goal I am struggling to reach.

I just put Punky into bed for the night. She was in there a few minutes when the “mama…mama…mama” started. It’s rare for her to do that at bedtime, she usually falls right to sleep. But when she does do it, I can’t help but go to her. She is so sweet and that one little four letter word just melts my heart every time.

How fast she is learning and changing just blows my mind. She understands…everything it seems. This morning I attempted to have her cuddle with me in bed and go back to sleep for a while, since it was only 6:35 on a Sunday morning. After two minutes of restlessness, she looked me straight in the face and said “bah-bah”… clearly, slowly, and deliberately. She wanted her bottle, and actually communicated it in a way other than crying or fussing. She was telling me something. Talking. Expressing a need. My big girl…

Her vocabulary seems to be expanding quickly. Aside from the usual ball, red, green, and mama, she also says car very clearly, and good, and tries to say good girl when I say it to her. If she has something now, and I tell her to give it to mama, she does. She understands. I asked her where a toy train was in a book I was reading to her, and she pointed right to it. Every day I have another shocking moment when it hits me that she got what I said and responded the correct way. It’s the most amazing thing.

The tooth that popped through last weekend is the bottom right. The one next door is coming right behind it. I can see it just below the gum, ready to break through any second. I have to say I’m surprised at how pleasant she’s been this week. I thought I was in for a hell of a week with all of the teething horror stories I’ve heard, but not with my baby. It hasn’t seemed to affect her much at all. She’s been chewing more than usual but she’s really not cranky.

Last Monday night she was a total riot. We attempted to watch House on TV, the only hour of TV I care to see each week. Punky wasn’t having it. It was the first time we saw her truly trying to harass both of us and keep our attention. She would come over to me and throw herself down backwards onto my lap, fully trusting I would catch her of course, and then giggle her hiney off and head for her dad. She would either steal his hat, or jump on his back, and giggle like all hell and race back to me. She repeated this cycle between the two of us for forty-five minutes and of course we missed the whole show. She was so adorable…how could we resist giving her the attention she wanted.

When I got home from work one day this week, her dad looked at me and said, “I guess it would be kind of nice if she had a little playmate to grow up with…” After I retrieved my jaw from the floor, he said it was just a passing thought. I’m still no closer to deciding if I want another one. I know my clock is ticking away at almost thirty-seven; it will probably run out and make the decision for me. I just can’t commit to the thought of another one. I would love to experience all of this again, but Punky was a miracle and I don’t feel like I should push it and tempt fate. I have a beautiful, healthy, perfect baby and maybe I should just be grateful for that and leave well enough alone.

Besides, in a few more months I’ll have a brand new nephew…or niece…to satisfy that strong baby itch. And now the countdown is on to find out pink or blue. Everyone seems to be hoping for blue. We should know in about six more weeks.

Oh, and to my surprise, I recently found out there are actually people who read my rambles. They just all do it in silence… Who would have thought?

Ta Ta Toothless Grin

Yep, it’s true.  I can hardly believe it.

At my nephew’s birthday party on Sunday, I was feeding Punky a taste of potato salad with my finger and I felt something sharp in her mouth.  Honestly, my first reaction was a second of panic…I thought she picked something up off the floor.  But then I quickly realized it was the tip of a tooth on the bottom.  Finally.

The night before, she woke up crying about an hour after she fell asleep, and there was just no consoling her.  I thought she was scared because she wasn’t at home in her crib and I was not in the room when she woke up, but even when I picked her up and did the usual rock with her, she continued to cry.  And she was smacking…making the strangest faces and sounds with her lips.  After about twenty minutes of fairly hard crying, she put her head on my shoulder and fell back to sleep.  It seemed odd, but I didn’t put too much thought into it.  She slept the rest of the night with no problem.

Now I figure it was probably the tooth breaking through the gum line.  Poor thing.  I didn’t even give her Tylenol.  I was clueless.  After months and months of chewing with nothing to show for it, a tooth breaking through was the farthest from my mind.  Bad mama.

So we need to bid farewell to that beautiful, toothless grin that has melted our hearts for the past ten months and get used to a smile that will be ever changing for years to come.  It’s a great achievement for her, and I’m happy…yet at the same time it’s just one more sign that my baby won’t be a baby much longer.  And that makes me sad.  It’s a double-edged sword, this growing up stuff. 

The First Halloween

Well, Punky’s first Halloween has come and gone. It wasn’t anything special, but she looked cute and we got some adorable pictures.

We put her in the elephant costume long enough to visit her grandmother, but the rest of the day she was decked out in her bright orange “Baby’s First Halloween” onesie and she ate with her “Baby’s First Halloween” bib. She even had bright orange socks to match, and adorable black pants. And mama didn’t buy any of it.

She wasn’t much amused with the kids trick-or-treating. Every time we had a knock on the door, one of us would grab the baby and take her to see the kids in their costumes. She is always excited to see people come to visit, but it took no time at all for her to realize these kids weren’t visiting. They knock…we give them a handful of candy…they turn around and leave. No one was coming in to play with her, and she got bored with the concept rather quickly. Possibly even a bit ticked that we kept pulling her away from her toys to go see them at the door. It won’t be this way once she knows what candy is…

Grammy sent her a Halloween card in the mail, and brought a card from Aunt P with her when she came up on Tuesday (first shift week again). She handed Punky the card, and then went back to the car to get her bags. I stood in the kitchen holding the baby for a few minutes and then realized the corner of her envelope was missing. As was the corner of the card itself. And the edges were wet.

As if she knew exactly what I was going to do, Punky flashed me a big smile…wide enough to see the wad of orange paper in her mouth…and then pursed her lips together and absolutely refused to open her mouth. She threw her head from side to side and dodged my every attempt to get my fingers in there and grab the paper. She swallowed it; I saw her do it. No guesswork this time. So, Aunt P, I think it’s safe to say that she thoroughly enjoyed the Halloween card. It was yummy.

Tomorrow morning Punky and I are headed home for the weekend again. This time it’s for birthday parties. She’s never been to a birthday party before, and now she gets two in one weekend.

I thought about taking the ride tonight, but she usually cries in the car when it’s dark and she can’t see anything. And when I can’t see her in the mirror it is even more stressful driving. With the time change, the entire ride would be in darkness and I don’t want to chance over two hours worth of miserable baby. Waiting until morning is the better option, although I’ll probably end up changing a dirty diaper in an even dirtier rest stop somewhere along the way. She goes like clockwork, and I plan to be on the road then. As the saying goes…shit happens.

I think she’ll enjoy the birthday parties. Just being around other kids will be exciting for her. The only kid she ever spent any time with is my nephew…one of the parties this weekend is his…and he really isn’t so wild about his little cousin. He pushes her, he takes stuff from her, he cries when she licks his toys…yeah, he’s not impressed with her. But he’s four, or will be in a few days, and he’s good at it. This too shall pass...

Hopefully, Punky will find a nice little friend to play with at the parties. Then again, I think she will be the youngest at both, so she may end up with a pack of kids being mean to her instead of just one. Yikes.

Five-Sixths of a Year...And a Day

Punky was ten months old yesterday!  She had a doctor appointment today so I waited to post thinking I would have her stats, but they didn’t even weigh her today.  She got the second half of her flu shot, and we were in and out in about five minutes.  I bet she gained at least a pound this month though, she’s suddenly seems a lot heavier for some reason.  Maybe I just really need to find a new chiropractor.

She learned some new tricks this month, like turning the dishwasher on…usually when it’s empty.   It takes a bit for us to notice and turn it off again. Stinker.

She learned to go head first over the footstool and give me a heart attack.  She tries to climb up on everything.  She walks around the basket chair, pushing it around and around in circles.  She falls down at the end of “ring around the rosy” and finds it highly amusing to see you fall down with her.

She still loves her books and must know a handful of them by heart by now.  Lord knows I do.  I hear “one fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish” in my dreams at night.  She stares intently at the pictures now when you point things out and tell her what they are.  You can almost see the neurons firing.

She has a new fascination for balls and her tree toy.  You drop the balls in the top of the tree and they spiral down a ramp and roll back toward you.  I bought it a few months ago but she never paid much attention to it.  Now she loves it and is equally amused just rolling the balls all over the house.  Under the couch and behind the refrigerator are two of her favorite spots to lose them…  If I had a nickel…

She has “mama” down pat now, and also tries regularly to repeat the words ball, red, and green when I say them.  Of course they sound more like bah, reh, and greh, but I know what she means.  She talks…well, babbles…to her toys when she is playing by herself.  The other day she sat on the floor with a book on her lap, turning the pages and babbling away like she was reading the story.  Can she get any more adorable?

She graduated from her infant carrier to a convertible car seat…finally.  The only problem is that she keeps peeing in it.   The angle of it somehow makes her diaper leak and she ends up sitting in a puddle.  It’s making me crazy.  She needs to grow just a tad more so we can raise the shoulder straps to get her more upright and stop the flood. 

I can’t believe I’m saying but still no teeth.  I thought I felt the ridge of one finally poking through the other morning, but I haven’t been able to get another look since.  At this rate she’ll have her period before she has teeth.

She still loves her food, and is eating more and more real stuff.  I love watching her face when she tries new things.  No matter how awful the face is, she still wants to have more.  The only thing she ever closed her mouth and refused another bite of was a banana.  Apparently, they’re yucky.  Who knew?

She went to her first Halloween party last Sunday.  She was an elephant, and a damn cute one at that.  She wasn’t wild about having something on her head, and the little trunk bouncing up and down in her line of vision, but she was a good sport and kept it on without a fight.  I was proud of her.  I thought it would be off in three minutes. 

She is still sleeping well, with the occasional off night.  Last night was one of those nights.  I thought maybe it was her teeth…silly me…so I gave her Tylenol.  A little while later I realized it was gas pain, not gum pain, keeping her awake and cranky.  She had some of a pierogi at dinner, only the mushy inside, but I don’t think it agreed with her.  She eventually got back to sleep and I ended up with a whopping three hours for the night.  Those nights suck.

Tonight she has a slight fever so I fear we may have another rough one.  I can’t help but worry since she got that flu shot today.  I know there are risks, but I am still pro vax.  At least for now anyway.  We’ll see how tonight goes.  I’ll be keeping a close eye on her, that’s for sure.

And the bandaid was removed promptly after returning home from the doctor.  I wasn’t playing that game again.

The Art of Amusement

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and suddenly realized that nothing is off limits when it comes to amusing your child. And I mean nothing.

There I sat…in the bathroom… peeing…bouncing an unopened tampon up and down between my teeth while making funny faces and humming the theme song from Bonanza. And there Punky sat…on the floor…fully consumed by one of those highly contagious belly laughs and clapping her patties for all she was worth.

Apparently, in that moment, I was the absolute funniest thing she had ever seen. I would pause a few seconds so she could catch her breath, and then resume the silliness to her delight. She would squeal with excitement and then the belly laugh would return…each time equally as hysterical as the first.

It was during my fourth of fifth rendition of the song when I noticed myself in the mirror. I could see why she was laughing; I looked totally ridiculous. I immediately flashed back to the Friends episode where Rachael makes the baby laugh by singing that big butt song…I forget the real title…

Anyhow, I really had to pee, and sometimes it’s just easier and faster to take her with me when we are home alone. My bathroom isn’t exactly baby-proofed and I needed to hold her attention for two minutes so she wouldn’t get into trouble and make me jump off the toilet mid-stream. My antics worked well.

Ah, the crazy things parents do to amuse their kiddos…

Back Home and Alone

Punky and I went home again for the weekend.  I had today off from work, and the drive home and all the packing/unpacking is worth it for a three day weekend.

It was rather uneventful, which was fine with me.  We hung out with family and relaxed.  Sometimes it's just nice to go home.  There's no place like it...

The only downfall to going home is the sadness I feel after leaving again.  I miss being close to family and friends.  I get so lonely up here at times.  Yeah, I have Punky, and she definitely is wonderful company, but he and I work opposite shifts all the time and never spend any time together.  The one week we are on the same shift every month, my mom is here to watch Punky for us.

Don't get me wrong, it's my favorite week of the month.  I miss being close to my mom.  We used to hang out all the time.  We would go out for dinner almost every Friday.  I hate that she's so far away now and I can't just get in the car visit whenever I want.

When I moved here almost two years ago, I was definitely ready for a change.  Aside from some time at college (I only lived on campus two semesters and commuted the rest), and the few months in Spain, I lived in the same small town my whole life.  I wanted out...to start over somewhere new and try a different life for a while.  It was only five months later that Punky was on her way.  Now things are different.  I wish we could be closer to family, especially for her sake.

Sometimes I ponder going back home for good.  He wouldn't go for that though.  His family is here.  His boys are here.  This is his home town.  We both have good-paying jobs here.  And a new house.  Maybe in a few years, once his second son finishes school, we can consider making a move. 

I just get so lonely.  I feel like I am missing so much, and my family is missing out on seeing Punky grow.  I guess seeing them every few weeks isn't so bad; it could be worse, we could be across the country.  But it's the everyday moments that make the best memories, the best stories, the times you cherish the rest of your life...

This Time of Year

I hate it.

Well, part of me likes it. A small part.

But I mostly hate it.

The beautiful fall foliage, the crispness in the air, the return of soft plush robes and flannel jammies, and the smell of stew in the crockpot… October brings many pleasing sensory indulgences, but it’s hard to enjoy them when I know what’s lurking beyond…

I get so depressed knowing that winter is looming around the corner. The freezing cold. The snow. The ice. The mud that follows a recent melt. Filthy floors from tracking the mess inside. Heating bills. Lack of daylight. Risking my life driving in a blizzard just to get a paycheck. Coughs and colds. Blah, blah blah…

Last year it wasn’t so bad. We had just moved into our new house in September. I was securely in my third trimester and anxiously awaiting Punky’s arrival at the end of the year. My baby shower was in mid October, and the weeks immediately following were filled with the preparation of the nursery. I had so many doctor appointments cluttering up my schedule. Life was busy, and everything was centered on being ready for baby.

I knew that I would be home…warm, safe, and sound…in the worst part of the winter with my newborn baby girl. I could care less about the shitty weather that was coming (although it did make for a long ride to the hospital in the middle of the night when I was in labor). The thought of the pending winter really didn’t depress me last year. There was too much excitement in the air.

Now this year, that feeling of shear dread is back again. I was doing well. I hadn’t thought much about it, until I had to scrape my car windows yesterday morning. Grrrr. I can barely stand the thought of it. In some ways it’s worse than ever before since I already struggle every day with wanting to stay home with Punky and not being able to afford it. Add snow, ice, and over an hour commute home in bad weather and I will be downright miserable.

I suppose I should try to look at the good things headed our way. After all, we will have Punky’s first Halloween…she’s going to be an elephant (yeah, my silly choice)…and her first Thanksgiving…her first Christmas (she missed it by three days last year)…then her first birthday (that’s as sad as it is exciting). So many “firsts” hanging on the horizon…but come the new year, we’ll be left with at least three more months of awful weather. Sigh.

If anyone needs an idea for Punky’s first birthday present, she would like an all-inclusive ticket to a warm, tropical destination, for about two weeks in either January or February. Please choose a hotel with a kiddie pool, and ask for a room with a crib. Some place with lots of music would be ideal since she loves to shake her hiney. Of course, she needs someone along to carry her, feed her, and change her diapers since she hasn’t gotten the hang of it yet (those velcro-like tabby things are a bitch). So don’t forget to include a ticket for her mama…or she won’t be allowed to go.