If you look back into the archives of this blog, you will find several love letters to Avery starting with the Dear Baby Babe letters at Week 12.  We are at 21 weeks today and I’ve written you all of zero letters.  Between you and me, I think I went a little overboard with all those letters to Avery.  I mean, how can we say, “yeah, that girl has never been pregnant before!” Let’s make fun of her together, shall we?”  What can I say, I had a lot of time on my hands that is now spend running after your sister.

It’s not that this pregnancy is any less special.  It’s just that first pregnancies are kind of like an initiation and you are already part of the club the second time around.  My comadres don’t ask how I’m doing and then listen patiently as I tell them about every little happening.  Instead, they give me a knowing nod and I respond to questions about how I’m doing with “I’m pregnant!” as I laugh.  My body has already given way to things it fought off until the third trimester with Avery.  I’m already sporting my super bedazzled FitFlops to help with the plantar fasciitis and my back massage pillow is my BFF.

As for kicks, I’ve barely felt any so far.  My placenta is in the front this time, so we completely bypassed the entire fluttering butterfly feeling.  I can go days without feeling so much as one little bump inside there.  However, yesterday, as I was holding Avery for the second part of her nap, you started moving around.  There I was, just grateful that I could catch a few minutes of rest, even if it meant holding a teething, feverish toddler and you started stretching out!   It was a tiny reminder that two will leave little time for rest.  I just hope I have time to hold you when you are feverish, too.

I can already see how there are certain characteristics that are caused by birth order.  I’m bossy and Auntie Mandie is…wait, she’s really bossy, too!  Well, I’ll say that I’m naturally bossy and being a teacher has really helped Auntie Mandie’s realize her bossiness potential!  It’s being in-charge of the little ones that does it to you!  Your dad keeps telling me, “In a year and a half, it will be so much easier because Avery and the baby will be playing together.”  Yes, that’s a bit naïve.  However, I really am looking forward to saying, “Avery, watch your sister while mommy goes to the bathroom…all by herself, with the door locked, and fan on so that I can just decompress for 3 minutes.”  I’ll be really sad if you both end up crying at the door.

I’d feel really bad if I didn’t mention Patch.  You know how I said he started sleeping on daddy’s half of the bed when I was pregnant with Avery?  Well, either he really loves you or he’s just over babies, because he is all curled up to me at night on my side of the bed.  In fact, I’ve woken up with his head draped over my back or legs twice this week.  Perhaps he’s realized another little hand to feed him is on its way and want to be extra loving.  Or, he’s just happy to have me all to himself – if only for bedtime.  Like I said, birth order hones particular characteristics.

Love you,

Mama

Me Before You by Jojo Moyes:  I was mad when I finished this book.  If I were a more empathetic person, I would have been happy for Louisa and Will.  I won’t spoil the ending, except to say that it is a happy ending.  It just depends what you mean by “happy.”  In short, this novel is a love story between two people who couldn’t be more different.  Will, once the dare-devil and man-about-town, is now confined to a wheelchair as a quadriplegic.  However, it’s not simply a wheelchair; it’s a quality of life that of which is quickly deteriorating.  Louisa, on the other hand, couldn’t be more ordinary.  Of course, it’s rare that anyone goes through life without their own defining moments and Louise hides her scars under shockingly eccentric clothing.  When Louisa is hired as Will’s caretaker, she sets out to show him how fulfilling life can still be for this man who can no longer bathe, wipe, or feed himself.  Will, on the other hand, sets out to help Louisa realize her own talents and potential.  It’s a novel that shows how love can change a person and, at the same time, must allow a person to make their own path in life and in death.  Ah, and there’s the rub.  This book won’t leave you unchanged.

After hearing Jojo Moyes speak at Warwick’s, I became an even bigger fan of Me Before You.  Insightful and clever, it was incredibly interesting learning about how Moyes created such a believable cast of characters.  Plus, it was just plain fun to hear about how other characters (ahem, the annoying boyfriend) were inspired by people she’s met (ahem, perhaps a former annoying boyfriend).  Her background as a journalist proves to be an asset in presenting a contraversial topic in a compelling; yet, unbiased way.  I’ll definitely be reading her next novel!

The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern: I loved this novel from the first sentence.  Such was the addiction that I gave true homage to the title be using all my free time in the evenings, and sacrificed many a night’s sleep, to immerse myself in Morgenstern’s fictional world.  This is also a love story, but a much different kind than that of Will and Louisa.  In TNC, Celia and Marco are recruited as children to train as magicians in order to and face-off in the most beautiful and imaginative venue – Le Cirque des Rêves.  Simplifying this novel to just that one sentence is trite; however, there’s no concise way to express the intricate plot.  I will instead clarify that this is not a battle between good and evil.  Rather, this is a battle of talent, ingenuity, and beauty…of which the end result is meant to be the death of one of the competitors.  Morgenstern moves this novel beyond simply a game to an illustration of the power of secrets, words, and stories.  That’s the real magic  Anyone who believes words matter will fall in-love with this story.

The Art of Fielding by Chad Harbach:  I hate to end this review on a bad note; however, I will summarize my feelings by quoting my notes from the top of chapter 37, “What has happened so far?”  Mind you, that was 261 pages into a 512 page book.  This novel promised to be The Novel of Our Generation!  It’s a New York Times Book Review Best Book of the Year!  Oh my, my hopes were high.  Wow, was I let down.  Indeed, it’s well-written; but, that’s the best I can say about Harbach’s effort.  The relationships are unrealistic, I didn’t care about the characters, and, for crying out loud, how does a novel pertend to be empathetic, supportive, you name it, of a homosexual relationship when it applies a lame stereotype to one partner and makes the other partner almost seem predatory?  Yes, I get that Harbach must be an expert on Moby Dick.  No, I haven’t read MD.  I thought about picking it up right after I finished TAOF, however, I needed to clear my head from this novel to give MD – a true classic and literary icon – its due.

Let me know what you thought about these novels (without giving away the endings!).  I’d also love to hear what you are reading!  To read a Book Club post, please click here.

Book Club: Gone Girl

If you haven’t read Gone Girl, stop reading this post and go purchase Flynn’s latest novel.  You may also want to cancel all social engagements, because you won’t want to put it down.  I mean, this brought my “The Walking Dead” marathon to a screeching halt.  Not since Barbara Kingsolver and the Poisonwood Bible have I read a story that provides first-person narratives from different characters that are whole unto themselves.  Moreover, the characters are nuanced and interesting, the storyline is compelling, and there’s a believable (albeit disturbing) ending that tucks all the loose ends in neatly.

Like I explained, this is not a book review; it’s a book club.  Okay, fine, a book club of one.  Me.  But, feel free to join in by leaving a comment.  I promise to not take anything personally.  Wait, that’s a lie.  I probably will take it personally; however, I will be mature and respond as if I were not offended that you don’t think all my insights are anything less than brilliant.

For this first Book Club, I thought I’d do a brief character analysis.  I had written more, but I can barely make it through the entire orinal piece.  Believe it or not, here is the abbreviated version.  Even if no one reads it, I was just so happy to be drinking my wine and typing away like the happy, little nerd that I am!

Character Analysis

Mmme, let’s start with….

Nick 

Oh, poor too-good-looking-for-his-own-good Nicholas.  I vacillate between feeling sorry for Nick and thinking that Go is right, he’s just as sick and twisted as Amy.  I don’t think that it’s the baby that keeps them together.  Rather, it’s the fear that his own kid won’t like him.  He pictures “Mother whispering, whispering lies into that tiny pink ear” and, therefore, confesses, “ I deleted my story.”  Ah, yes, the ultimate revenge on a journalist: Taking away his story.  However, it’s worth it for Nick because signing up to play the role of perfect husband to Amy guarantees that he will be his best self, a perfect husband and father.  Thus, he will never succumb to his worst fear:  Ending up like his father.  Yeah, that’s a tad cliché; but, Flynn’s novel makes it way more interesting than just an “oh, I might end up like dad” syndrome.  Don’t you agree?   

Still, I worry for Larry Nicholas.  I was holding Avery as she slept while I started on the last couple of chapters.  Poor baby girl had been teething and most likely sick with a cold (how do you tell the difference sometimes?)  all week with a cold and holding her ensured that she would sleep better.  You know, so that I could finish my book!  I’m a very selfless mom like that.  So, as I’m reading the incredible and chilling conclusion, I started reflecting on my own marriage.  I mean, calling Amy crazy is oversimplifying this incredible character.  Sure, she sounds loco en la cabeza when she says things like, “Love should require both partners to be their very best at all times.”  However, how often do we expect just that from our partner?  Just yesterday I kidded with Seth that he should know what I want for my order from Puesto, a local take-out Mexican joint, and that I really worried about “us” when he ordered me things like fried cheese and huilacochtle.  It’s a little inside joke.  Sheesh, I never realized how dangerous those were!

Avery was in a pretty deep sleep by the time I finished thumbing through the epilogue.  I held her up and held her close, her warm cheeks resting on my shoulder, as I swayed back and forth while patting her back.  It had been a rough several days for me and baby girl.  Earlier that day, I called Seth to say hello and check on his flight arrival that evening.  He had had a great work trip or, as I like to call it, vacation.

Your sweet husband is on the last day of a work trip during which he has enjoyed good food, time with family and friends, as well as several nights of uninterrupted sleep.  Meanwhile, you have been eating whatever was easiest to scarf down while holding a fussy baby, away from friends with little ones, and getting up several times during the night.  When he starts telling you about his trip, you

a)       Are happy for him, “how wonderful that you got to spend time with family and friends before work started Monday.  What a special treat to eat slow-roasted pulled pork that Pete spent all day smoking in his new Green Egg!”

b)      Let him know nicely that you are happy he will be back to help with the baby, “wow, it sounds like you pulled some long days at the office.  We’ve had our hand full here, too, and are excited daddy will be home to help with bath time tonight.  Would you mind going into work late tomorrow so that I can catch up on some sleep?”

c)       Start a passive-aggressive ramble about things that have nothing to do with why you are actually annoyed, “I don’t see how you’re gonna fit all those bikes in the storage closet.  The hallway is a mess.  Blah blah blah” all in a perturbed voice.

Answer)  A or B would do, but I did C.  I wasn’t happy.  I was tired, worn out, and more tired.

Sure, I would have preferred if Seth has just said he had had a nice time in general and spent a lot of time working so that I wouldn’t have felt like Avery and I (That’s the correct grammar) had missed out on a fun little vacation.  Yeah, it made perfect sense for him to share the fun details of his trip.  But, tired new mommies don’t make a whole lot of sense when they haven’t had a good night sleep in days/weeks/months.  Truth is, it probably wouldn’t have mattered what Seth said, I still would have picked a fight.  Of course, I had the good sense to call him back and apologize.  I knew I was being unreasonable.  Seth came home to a smiling wife.  But, Nick?  He can’t even say the right thing before baby makes three.  “Just wait until Nick meets post-partum Amy,” is all I could think.  “Poor guy is dead already.”

Amy:

I like Amy.  Admit it, you do, too…at least a little bit.  No matter what you think of her, by the end of the novel, you’ve got to give the woman her due:  Amy is just plain smarter than everyone else and (almost, more on this later*) always one step ahead.  Flynn does an especially excellent job of using Amy to highlight the normative values that society places on women with Diary Amy.  Likable and kind, “She’s easy to like,” Amy explains, noting, “I’ve never understood why that’s considered a compliment.”  She’s the Cool Girl that takes on the likes and dislikes of her boyfriend, feigns interest in his hobbies, and lets her boyfriend get away putting her second anytime he feels like it.  To the men who date the Cool Girl, Amy yearns to explain,

“You are not dating a woman, you are dating a woman who has watched too many movies written by socially awkward men who’d like to believe that this kind of woman exists and might kiss him.”

The women who pretend to be Cool Girl are all the worse because, “They’re not even pretending to be the woman they want to be, they’re pretending to be the woman a man wants them to be.”

Except, oh wait, when Amy rises above all of the roles women play and reveals “Actual Amy,” she a psycho-bitch murder who has cut her teeth by driving her best childhood friend to suicide and accusing an ex-boyfriend of rape.  And her final trump card?  She got pregnant.  Granted, technically, one could argue that she did it without submitting to a man.  Still.  It’s the ultimate cliché of female manipulations; I’m pregnant, so now you are stuck with me.  Forever.  Also, I might kill you, turn your child against you, or worse.  Yeah, not exactly a feminist role-model.

Go:

Margo, Nick’s explains, is the “one person in the entire world I am totally myself with.”  Twins, they “spent nine months back to back, covering each other.  It became a lifelong habit.  It never mattered to me that she was a girl, strange for a deeply selfishly conscious kid.  What can I say?  She was always just cool.”  Cool!  Margo was actually, genuinely Cool Girl.  Sure, their relationship gave the impression to their high school friends that they were involved in twincest.   I spent most of the novel waiting for Go reveal that she is in-fact gay.  Okay, she was a little boring and a bit of a pushover.  But, like I said, she’s the Cool Girl for real!  She loves her brother no matter what, no If’s about it.

Detective Boney:

Why is it that the one woman who figures out the truth, despite all of the convincing lies and manipulation, is dead ugly?  On one hand we have Amy, who Nick describes as the, “first pretty girl I ever dated, really dated.”  On the other hand, we have Boney who was “surprisingly ugly—brazenly, beyond the scope of everyday ugly.”  Sheesh.  Lucky for Boney, Nick has an “affinity for ugly women,” who include all of the women from his mother’s side of his family, including good ol’ mom, because, “they were all smart and kind and funny and sturdy, good, good women.”  Not cool, but good.  Girls should be good, after all, right?

I like that the villain is the beauty and the hero’s a far cry from the Disney-esq dark, skinned villain with an accent.  Still, it’s a bit unfair that the good girl is also the ugly girl, right?

Andie

Many thanks to Flynn for staying far, far away from the Madonna-Whore characters so many authors (mostly male)

Betsy:

*The anti-feminist character.  This woman runs away from an abusive relationship and then punches Amy in the face so that she can steel her money.  So, she’s a doormat for her boyfriends and physically abuses her so called friend.  Plus, Betsy is such a 1950’s name, right?

Okay, just one more bit for the literature nerds out there…

Inside Jokes

Inside jokes play a key role throughout the novel.  If Nick had been in on the treasure hunt inside jokes, they would probably still be living in NYC, happy as a clam (Lobsters?).  Well, anyway, I love when authors include details that reveal what can only be (or what I’d like to think) are their little pet peeves and quirks.

The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle: 

It’s the book Amy suffers through on her and Nick’s honeymoon while he devours thrillers.  Have you read The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle?  I have and I will fully admit that I set it down about ¾ of the way through and picked it up about 5 months later out of sheer determination to get through the increasingly weird plot and cast of characters.  If you’re reading this, I hope you already finished reading Gone Girl.  A thriller.  That, if you are like me, you completely devoured.  Both are about a wife who mysteriously disappears one day, after which husbands realize they never really knew these women at all.   I mean, both couples even have a cat.  See!  Inside jokes are fun; but, only when you “get it.”  Otherwise, you end up just getting super annoyed at a novel that keeps making allusions to Moby Dick, a whale of a novel  that you have no intention of ever reading.  But, that’s a book club write-up for another day.  So, my point is:  No wonder Amy was so angry with Nick for not being able to get any of her treasure hunt clues based on inside jokes he doesn’t get, and no wonder he just wanted to give up.

Well, that concludes my first Book Club.  Hope you had some wine on-hand and enjoyed this little break from journaling ;) 

Well, hello there.  Yes, I know, it’s been a while.  The timing of my hiatus might coincide with when my twice-a-week babysitter LEFT US. She up and graduated from college EARLY.  It gets worse!  She didn’t even leave us for a corporate job.  No!  She left us to travel to the other side of the world!  Oh, OH! And, not just any other side of the world; she went to MY favorite part of the other side of the world, New Zealand. We tried to be graceful; however, it’s hard when you suddenly realize what 8 hours of babyless time does for your running errands and writing blog posts time.  NADA.  Yeah, I know some bloggers blog after bedtime or at 5a.m. before the kids get up.  Sorry, I’m just not that committed.  My brain turns to mush after 9 without some serious caffeine.  That’s really not the greatest idea when you are pregnant again, but that’s another blog post.  Anyway, my point is that I was too tired and the piles of dirty laundry were going to land me on Hoarders with me breaking down in tears as experts intervened to save me from myself.  I need over 7 hours of consecutive sleep to be happy.  Luckily, we found another wonderful sitter, thanks to my friend, Kallie.  Actually, that’s how we found our first sitter.  Kallie – I love you!  So, after getting caught up on my house and personal life, I think I can safely resume a regular blogging schedule.  I’m not committing to everyday, just most days when my house is clean (because I paid someone else to clean it) and my refrigerator is full (because my mom was here to help with Avery).

Facebook is Boring

I also decided to take a break from social media.  Staying at home with your baby is wonderful.  It’s a choice my husband and I made easily.  However, it’s been anything but easy.  Even though the demands are way more than I could have anticipated, I think that the change in my role was the most difficult part of the transition.  Looking back, I realized I went through a little grieving process of the Aimee-Before-Motherhood.  I had really just figured out who she was and was having a lot of fun being self-centered.  I mean, you have to be ”selfless” in marriage; but, you have to be “SELFLESS” as a mom.  It’s whole new level no one understands until they are in a position where they are caring for someone else who is 110% dependent on them.  I’m sure people who have had to take care of loved ones who aren’t little children are at the “SELFLESS” level and are all, “Aimee, you have no idea.”  True, I take my hat off to you!  So, getting back on-track, I found myself looking at Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram to connect with the outside world.  One day, it was just too much.  It wasn’t that I couldn’t take the I-love-my-life, self-promotions, humble-brags, we-don’t-really-look-this-good-in-real-life-photos, or whoa-is-me posts.  I mean, we all participate in those roles to some extent.  It just got….well, boring.  It’s not that my Facebook friends are boring people.  It’s more like, how much minutia do you really need or even want to know about someone else’s life on a daily basis?  More importantly, I was sharing too much minutia.  My sister and mom were probably the only ones enjoying the constant stream of Avery posts and photos.  So, I deleted the Facebook app off of my phone and did my best to give it up for a few months all-together.  I then tucked my Twitter app away in a folder marked Social Media on  my phone.  It was hard the first few days not to pass the minutes away in line at the check-out counter or when Avery was walking up and down the hallway for the 274th time to check-in with FB.  However, then I kind of forgot about it entirely.  I did, however, keep Instagram.  I love photo and I follow and un-follow people without a second thought as to if I will hurt their feelings.  It’s not like you can really tell and I just like to mix it up a bit.  Are you checking to see if I unfollowed you right now?  If we are friends in the sense that we spend time together at least once a month, no.  If we aren’t “real-life” friends and you post photos of the lettuce you had for your “yummy” gluten-free lunch, yes.

Nevermind, Facebook is Fun (when you use it to be friends…like real friends)

It was on Instagram that I noticed someone with a pseudonym commenting on a mutual friend’s photos who I was pretty sure I knew from UCLA.  I could only see photos of her daughter on her feed, so I texted my friend to ask who it was.  Oh, yeah, Michelle, one of the nicest girls in my sorority!  We’d lost touch after I dropped out when I returned from study-abroad.  Turns out that she has a little one just a bit older than Avery and lives in San Diego.  So, I broke my Facebook rule to friend her and we made plans for a mom date.  Turns out we are both still normal, nice people (Uh, that was what I was verifying Michelle! :) and our girls are both pretty mellow.  It makes for a great combo for play-dates!  Michelle also loves photography, so we have shamelessly taken our girls around Encinitas photographing them at these great locations Michelle found.  The result from our first expedition is what I have entitled:

Two Future Bruins on a Bench:

I was going to put in captions to tell a story; however, they just seemed redundant.  Yes, Harper taught Avery how to wear “sunnies.”  Although, Avery got a bit confused!  She also taught Avery how to sign “more” for Puffs.  Or, as Harper calls them, “Pups.”  I think Harper was also a bit concerned over Avery’s lack of ringlets. Uh, this was me as a child, so I don’t know why my baby girl only has a handful of curls on the back of her head:

Seth thought I was wearing a wig when I showed him this photo.

Oh, yeah, she’s her father’s mini-me. That kid was probably bald until he was two!

I have a lot more to say about Facebook and Social Media that I will save for another post.  However, I will end this post by saying that I am happy to be back blogging, reconnecting with friends on Facebook, and will forever shamelessly post a bazillion photos of my kids on Instagram.

This is the third draft of your 1-year love letter.  I’ve given a half-hearted attempt several times, but nothing really came to mind.  I was so very excited when 1/13, our lucky number, came around.  I pushed you in your BOB that morning with an extra bounce in my step.  I wanted to go through the streets of La Jolla yelling out, “Yeah! We did it!  One year and this kid is thriving and happy.  Please get my certificate of completion in the mail:  Congratulations to Aimee and Avery for making it through your first year as mother and dauther.  You rock!  Oh, don’t forget to add ‘With Honors,’ because my baby is super cute, too!”  And then came all the,

“She’s ONE!”

“She’s SO BIG!”

“You know you have a TODDLER now, right?”  ”

“Wait, what?  Toddler?  Shush up NOW!  No, really, no one asked your opinion.  You see this blue-eye girl?  She’s my BAY-BEE.”

It’s your party first birthday and your mom will cry if she wants to was pretty much how I felt.  In my heart, I already knew it was true.  Every morning you wake up noticeably more mature, more talkative, and more inquisitive about your world.  Well, actually, you wake up in tears every morning; but, you feel much better after petting the “daw!  daw!”  However, after you are happily petting Patch, you seem more mature, talkative, and inquisitive.  I was just happy to let that all be part of the baby stage.  Since we decided on just celebrating with a day at the zoo, it didn’t really seem official anyway.  No balloons, no pinata, no cake.  It was just a day with mommy, daddy, auntie mandie, grandma, and grandpa.  Fun, but not official.

Well, you know what is official?  Doctor visits, that’s what.  They write information down on permanent records.  Like, how much you weigh and whether or not you know enough words.  Then they tell you all about the new things you should be doing and warn you about how kids your age are accident prone.  You even get a brief packet about toddlers to take home with you.  You know, after your baby toddler stops crying from her vaccinations.  Ugh, it was a tough day.

You’re sleeping now.  You’ve graduated to your knees tucked under you with bottom up in the air pose.  Meanwhile, I’ve been filtering through the hundreds of photos I still haven’t edited from your year as my baby girl.  I better get on it, too; beacause, guess what?  At two they are going to tell me you are a Pre-Schooler!  So, sleep tight my toddler.  We have a lot of adventures to get going on while you are still my little one.

I love you.

Mama

In many ways, I feel like it’s our first year of marriage all over again.  Except, instead of having your best friend living in the spare bedroom – who slept in on weekends, always took my side in any kind of debate (You are a smart one, Bret!), and made sure our fridge was stocked with an endless supply of gourmet mustard - we have our new little roommate.  Oh, how that little person has changed everything.  We’ve had so much new joy…so much new everything…and so little sleep!  Such little sleep, in-fact, that I would highly suggest any couples planning on getting married and having children add the following to the traditional wedding vows: in full-nights of sleep and in nights, days, months – gees, maybe years, of hardly any sleep at all.  So, with fingers interlaced and Patch lightly snoring in-between us, I asked you what you thought of our third year of marriage.

“Wonderful,” you said.

I kind of laughed.  “Well, don’t you think it’s been a little hard this past year?”

No, you didn’t think so at all.  Of course, you - the man one who loves scary-as-heck, off-piste ski slopes - would say a challenging year has been wonderful.  For you, the fun and reward comes from overcoming uncharted territory, preferably with adrenaline pumping drops.  Me, on the other hand, well, I’d much prefer to stick to ski runs called “Success.”  I like being able to see ahead and take it easy.  Falling is a rarity and you don’t have to work much on proper form (Use your edges!).  Of course, these types of runs come with relatively little reward.  I was most happy skiing when I finally realized that you were right (don’t expect me to say that twice); it’s much more fun when you stop clinging to the mountain and go downhill on a real mountain run.

Having Avery has steered us clear off the green runs.  All the challenges, the sleepless nights, and the new roles have made marriage harder; but, they have also made us love harder.  I’ll fully admit, it’s made life a new kind of wonderful (Okay, I said you were right twice!).  So, babe, here’s to having an off-piste marriage.  I’m sure we will fall time and time again, however, it’s been more fun along the way and the reward has been that much greater.

I love you.

Aimee

Photo credit:  True Photography

Merry Christmas!

“Uh, no.  She can’t be more than half-way to her due-date, right?”

“Did you see his tweet?  I’m confused.”

Paul:
“Wow.  2 and a half hour nap?  That’s a first ever.  #workingmanwoes #parenthood # sleepdeprived.”

Tired and their screaming in the middle of the night sweet baby hasn’t even arrived.  Yeah, I remember when I thought that pregnancy could be tough and I had a pretty “easy” pregnancy.  Paul, this video is for you.  Don’t watch it now, you won’t really get it.  Watch it in like a year.  Then send out a real tweet.  Love you! ;)

Yes, yes, I realize that this video totally perpetuates the general stereotypes of traditional “daddy at work, mommy at home” roles.  Still, super funny, right?

My favorite lines: 

• “When it comes to Candy Land, I’m stone-cold player.
• “My PB&Js will set your world on fire, I could make you mac ‘n’ cheese blindfolded on a wire.”

It took me 30 minutes to leave the house after L arrived to babysit.  You woke up when Patchy barked his greetings.  There’s just something about hearing your baby cry that sends a pulse of adrenaline running through a mother’s veins.  This past month you had several nights during which you cried every hour on the hour.  Your dad was out of town for several days and Patch was no help.  I took you to the doctor to see if you had an ear infection.  She said you were in perfect health and then turned to me to say, “I give you permission to let her cry it out tonight.”  I guess she doubled in Psychology of Mothers.  In short, you survived and are sleeping a lot better at night.  Well, except for last night when you were up from 2am-3am because you were teething.  And the night before that when your dad woke me up at midnight shaking my arm and mumbling, “The baby is crying.”  He had no recollection of doing that the next day.  Apparently, that internal baby alarm in dads works by waking up the mom.  Figures.  

I realized I referred to you as my daughter for the first time last week.  Up until that time, I just called you my baby.  There are so many changes that go on in a woman’s heart when she has a child.  It’s wonderful and exhausting, uplifting and frustrating.  You are trying to be everything for this little person and, at the same time, hold on to everything that defined who you were before motherhood.  And then, just like that, you hit your stride.  It’s by no means easy street.  We have good days and bad days, but the former outnumber the latter by far. 

We may be “pegaditos” most of the time, but we are very different in looks and personality.  Friends will gently say, “So, she looks a bit like Seth,” to which I will respond – much to their relief – “Oh, she’s her daddy’s girl!”  You inherited my blue eyes and I’m not going to lie that I really did pray for that one feature.  I just wanted a bit of genetic credit!  I was always very reserved as a child and you love making lots of friends.  Few things excite you more than getting together with other babies and little kids.  You start “talking” and waving your arms at them before lunging forward to give them a clumsy hug.    

I took you with me to vote for your first presidential election.  I may have dressed you up special for the occasion.  Feel free to use this photo in your campaign when you run for  public office one day ;) 

You really are a sweet little girl and I’m already so proud that you are mine to care for, teach, and watch grow. 

I love you.

Mama