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.