For The Mamas And The Papas, Y'all.

Since 100% of our family and 60% of our friends live outside the state of Oregon, I do need to occasionally indulge in a Lydia post.  Ya know what I'm sayin'? 
The mamas and the papas need to see their grand baby.  So, if babies make you gag, if you find their rolls of fat revolting, or if you have adverse reactions to sweetness, you should leave this blog post now.  Go to people.com and read about Charlie Sheen or something. 

Lydia is now 13 1/2 months old.  Her vocabulary list is growing almost as fast as she is.  She can say hi, uh-oh, dog, night-night and go, and I'm beginning to think that the word 'dee dee' is what she means for binky.  She waves hi and bye, and signs for food, more, and all done. 

She has 7 teeth and one more just about to poke through. 

She still usually takes two naps a day, but she has been changing up her schedule, pushing her morning nap later.   I think this is her trying to transition from two naps to one.   She sleeps through the night (Hallelujah!) from about 7 p.m. to about 7:45 a.m.  It took her 10 months to sleep through the night and I am still catching up, often taking a nap when she does.  I don't feel guilty about it, either.

Yesterday Lydia was playing around the kitchen while I was cleaning up breakfast.  When I turned around I saw this:

She had pulled down the bread, pulled nearly the entire loaf out of the bag, and was shoving as much as she could in her mouth.  Please also note the floor of my pantry behind her.  Yes, that's the dog food bowl.

She has a playroom now, which is great for a number of reasons.  First, her toys aren't scattered all over the house.  Second, she loves it.  My mom and I set it all up when she was visiting a few weeks ago.

Lydia seems to have no interest in walking.  She occasionally stands on her own for a few seconds, but doesn't really seem to have any desire to do that, either.  Just within the last couple of days she started to let us hold her hands and walk her up and down the room.  She does, however, walk along the furniture, the walls, etc.

She also climbs.  On everything.  EVERYTHING. See?

And once she's on top of whatever she was climbing, she holds her hands out to you to be put on the ground so she can climb up all over again.

Lydia loves going outside.  She loves rocks, but hates grass.

Yesterday we were outside playing and accidentally brought a ladybug in the house with us.  Thinking I could have one of those sweet moments where the baby sits there and watches the ladybug/caterpillar/butterfly crawl around her pudgy baby hand, I showed her the critter.  And before I could do anything, she picked it up and squished it between her fingers with a gag-inducing CRUNCH.  

It was gross.

Finally, she can spoon feed herself and insists upon doing so.  It's been a long, messy road to get to this point.  Brian and I have often put the food on her tray and turned our backs because it drives us so crazy to see her take a big spoonful of yogurt, get it almost to her mouth, and then put it in her hair.  Or spill it in her lap.  Or feed it to the dog.  But she is getting better, as you can see.  And hey, they've gotta learn sometime.

Shucks.  I'm just bustin' with pride.

Your Assistance, Please

Yesterday I finished the last central square on my latest quilt project and could not figure out how I wanted the layout to look.  My mom helped me arrange one when she was here visiting, but I tried a couple of others just to see what they looked like, and now I can't decide which one I like best.  So, what do you think?

At random?

Semi-random?

Or The Rainbow Effect?

I have a little poll set up on the right side of the blog, so go vote, would ya?

I have had so much fun working on this. There are two outer borders yet to be made; one has applique vines and flowers and the other is a sawtooth pattern.  I am piecing and quilting this by hand, and have plans to enter it in the County Fair this summer.  I'm so dang domestic I can hardly stand it.

Can't wait to see what you all vote on.  Thanks for your help!

Oh, and did I mention that a certain someone turned ONE last month?

Well, she did.

The Big Embrace

Let's face it, ladies.  Our bodies aren't the same bodies after we put them through the rigors of pregnancy, childbirth, and breastfeeding.  We're a little wider.  A little looser.  A little more womanly.  So why then, pray tell, do I hold on to my pre-pregnancy, NAY! pre-WEDDING clothing?

But it' not just that I keep them. 

Why do I try to WEAR these things?  Oh, it brings me much shame to admit this to you, dear reader.  There is a part of my brain that thinks if I try to wear that size zero skirt that I got on clearance at a Banana Republic with Kim that winter we went to Florida that I will be a size zero. 

But we all know (pity me) that this just isn't so.

I am a different woman.  I am more woman.  And it's bittersweet to say goodbye to memories (that is what my clothes are to me!) but wise to embrace the new. So to my closet I march, to fill a garbage bag with too old, too small, too warn and too faded clothing.  Never to be worn by this lady again.  So long to that silk top from J. Crew that I wore to a luau in Hawaii and a Dave Matthews Band concert the summer after I graduated High School. Farewell.

Auf wiedersehen.

Adieu.

Adieu, Adeu.  To yieu, and yieu, and yieu. 




Next Time:  The Adventures of Mom Hair

There's a First for Everything

Today was Lydia's first Halloween.  It was also the first Halloween that Brian and I shut off all the outside lights and pretended like we weren't home.  It didn't start out like that, with us all old and crotchety and holed up in our den (which is also the living room, family room, dining room, and front room.  I just used the word 'den' because it sounded more, you know, dennish).  It actually started out with us walking our tall, blonde, Oregon State cheerleader around to meet the neighbors.  We took her home when she started to get a little chilly.  We gave her candy and asked her to pose for our cameras, but she gave us the cold shoulder. 

Typical cheerleader behavior.

 

She wanted to go to bed early tonight because church just really takes it out of her.  Missing that morning beauty rest is not awesome, she tells me in not so many words.  So I put her down, sound asleep, and rag doll-esque about 6:30. 

And that's when the goblins and ghosties came out in numbers.  This is how it would go:  There would be a loud knock (or the doorbell would ring repeatedly because of one particularly naughty button-pushing little fairy who, apparently, couldn't read my big orange 'please knock' sign), which would set the dog to barking, and then the kids would yell "Trick or treat!"  And then the baby would wake up, screaming as if to say "Why does this keep happening?!"  And, just like missing that morning nap, it was not awesome. 

I would have just stopped giving out candy, but I had a huge bowl of it with even more in the pantry.  I was desperate to get rid of it.

I started noticing Brian getting agitated; i.e. he would walk around aimlessly and sigh heavily every once in a while.  I asked him if he was okay.  "Are you stressed about the week coming up?" I asked.  "A little,"  he said.  A few moments passed.  Then he said, "Actually, the thing that's stressing me out the most right now is that the baby keeps getting woken up by trick or treaters.  I feel really bad for her." 

And my little heart went out to him. 

So we shut off all the lights and acted like we weren't home.  But we so were.   And we sat on the couch watching football with an enormous, enormous bowl of candy all to ourselves. 

Happy Halloween. 

Did I Hear A Niner In There?

Hey there.  Remember when I looked like this?

Me neither.  Boy.  What a whopper.  That shirt is like, "Must...hold...on!  Must...not...rip!" 

It feels like that was a lifetime ago.  And indeed it was.  A nine-month-long lifetime.   I was reflecting today on how my limited experience with motherhood has changed me, and  I was pleased to conclude that I am not the worse for wear.

I'm more responsible. (Except for one vehicular homicide.  Sorry, cat.)

I'm more organized,

I'm more disciplined.

I'm more empathetic. (I felt super bad about killng you, cat.)

I'm more neat and tidy.

I'm more spiritual.

I'm just...more.   More than I was nine months ago, that's for certain.   Things that used to be of great importance to me have fallen by the wayside; Dave Matthews Band, for example.  Things that never used to cross my mind have become front and center in my conciousness;  the price and durability of any number of baby items, top of stairs baby gates, food storage, a high quality kitchen table and chairs that will become the stage for many family meals to come.  Sleep.

But perhaps most importantly, there is this other.  This small person.  This child.  This nine month old.

And I'll tell you what the very best part of it all is:

I think she likes me.

Halloween Wreath!

My friend Chelsea posted a cute wreath she made for fall (or really any holiday at all) and Lydia totally  LOVED IT, so she was like, "Hey, Ma!  Make one of those things!"

I made a Halloween version since I'm short on spooky decor.  I bought a regular  grapevine wreath and then spraypainted it white to contrast the black roses.  I think I went a little lopsided on the left side there...oopsy!

And, of course, a craft just isn't a craft without GLITTER.

Check Chelsea's out on her crafting blog, It's Good For the Heart.  And find the tutorial to make your own here at The Pretty Poppy!

And I just have to share these earrings I bought today at Kohls.  So spooky!  So awesome!  So...owly? I might just have to wear these all year round.

The Incident, A Bad Case of the Moms

When Brian and I first bought this house, the furniture that we had to fill it with consisted of a bed, a TV, a couch, a love seat, and a desk. 

We ate on the floor for awhile and then decided that was for the birds.  Or some other creature that sits on the floor to eat.

 We were poor.  And we were cheap.  So we bought the cheapest, for-poor-people table and chairs we could find. 

And they are cheap. 

The chairs are poorly designed, being incredibly top heavy.  The table top is glass.  I knew it was only just a matter of time before there was an 'incident'.

Well.  The time came two days ago.  I was doing the dishes (again) and Lydia was over by the sliding glass door (which is near the table)  babbling away to herself.  I peaked over at her and she was busy smashing her mouth and nose up against the glass door, so I went back to my suds. 

Then, CRASH!  BLAM!  POW!  SCREECH! 

I ran over to my screaming baby and HORROR!

She was flat on her back, pinned to the floor with a toppled over chair RIGHT ON HER FACE.

I couldn't believe the GUILT I felt.  I moped around the house all day after it happened, replaying the events that led up to the 'incident'.  Why wasn't I watching her more closely?  Why did I let her play over by the table and chairs?  Should I take her to the doctor?  What if she's concussed and I let her go to sleep!?  And on and on.  I mean, really getting a little irrational, here.  Then I happened to run into my neighbor just as he was getting back from the library with his two year old son.

I poured it all out to him.  The incident.  How bad I felt.  "Just look at these bruises on her face!" I lamented.  He looked at me with a knowing but sympathetic smile and said the following:

"Get used to it.  Because it won't be the last time.  Not by a long shot."

And that's when I realized:

I was in for it.