Miss M's first baseball game...

Last night we had the opportunity to visit one of the Wrigley rooftops off of left field. We brought Miss M with us because we knew many of J's co-workers would be there and would want to meet her (and because we're too broke for a babysitter). The Cubs weren't playing, instead there was a minor league game going on, but the ballpark was packed nonetheless. I believe Miss M spent more time gumming her stuffed turtle's multi-colored plastic flippers than noticing any part of the game, but would you expect anything more from a 5-month-old?

Proud Papa J took her for a walk around the party to show off his little Bean while I waited on the patio watching the game. Shortly after he left the female bartender came up to me and said, "I just wanted to tell you, when your husband comes back... he made me do it. Ask him to show you the picture." Hmmmm...I waited until about 5 seconds after she left to go hunt him down. And here is the aforementioned picture, and yes, that is a beer can in my daughters hand. We C's sure know how to party (she says, her voice dripping with sarcasm).

Five months old yesterday

Can you believe it? Miss M is five months old! Soon enough she'll be asking to borrow the car! We celebrated her five month birthday with a hearty round of congratulations for mastering (well, almost mastering) yet another feat of strength - sitting up by herself. For about the past week she's been pretty solid on the tripod position, but yesterday we were all playing on the bed (drop the baby and she goes bouncy, bouncy, bouncy, yay!) and given the nice, cushy protection of the comforter we thought it would be a great time to practice our tripod skills. I sat her down on the mattress and we were a little surprised to see her sit straight backed, balancing herself, no hands on the matress, for a good 20 seconds. Yes, she still topples over. Yes, I still have to place her in a seated position. And yes, it still only lasts 5 to 20 seconds. But we're making progress! And she's ahead of the game - books say about 6-8 months they usually start this. I love my little wunderkind. I'm sure there's a trade-off coming for all these super-fly fast motor developments -- like she won't be potty trained until she's five or something.

She's got a great set of lungs....

Carrot Video...

Yummy, yummy, carrots! We love carrots!

Bendy Baby...

Do you remember when you could put your toes in your mouth? Yeah, I thought not. Toes are one of Miss M's new favorite toys. I wonder if anyone has ever completed a study researching the likelihood of infant toe-suckers becoming adult toe-suckers? Does my baby have a foot fetish? Why yes, I think she does...

No more soup for you! Our trip to Wisconsin...

This past weekend was spent with two three year olds, two 5 month olds, and one 15 month old, and it was a blast! I can't wait until Miss M is 3 - those kids were a riot! Little boy F made imaginary soup and then decided that his mom got "No more soup for you!" (cue Seinfeld theme)... same little F dropped his whole scoop of ice cream on the pavement and with a lip that almost hit the floor whispered "I lost my superman" - that being the rainbow colored choice of toddlers everywhere. And Miss M was quite tolerant of her first boat ride - and of the giant foam prison that we strapped around her chest under the guise of safety. Does a life jacket still save an infant from drowning if she is in fact drowning in it?

Here are some pictures from our trip. To view more click HERE to go to my Kodak Gallery.

We LOVE carrots!

Tried Miss M on some carrot mush last night and she actually opened her mouth and reached out for each spoon full! She likes it, she really likes it!

To download pictures...

I just figured something out -- something that some of you might already know -- and I thought I would share.

If you're interested in having any of the pictures in my blog on your computer at home, or printing them, you can save them to your computer by clicking on the photo you want (this will open it up to it's full size) and then right-clicking your mouse and selecting the "save picture as" option. Then just chose what folder you would like to save it in and there you go - your own copy!

Mountain Expedition...

Miss M traversed Mount Mommy this weekend. She packed all her gear - her binky, her pink bunny, and her teething ring - and set off to discover the great unknown that is the spot behind Mommy's shoulder.

I laid on my back and played "fly fly" with her. This is a favorite game from my childhood that consists of one prone parent and one child heaved in the air at arms length while the parent alternately says "Fly, fly, fly" and "Brrrmmmmm" (propeller noises). Miss M decided to make an emergency landing and curled herself into a ball so that I would stop the plane. Miss M landed on Mount Mommy's most mountainous of terrain (if you catch my drift) and proceeded to scoot herself across my chest and then my face until she was upside down and mouthing the back of my shoulder. I don't know how she had managed to wedge herself in there, but she was quite difficult to extricate, which caused me to begin laughing uncontrollably, which caused the Great White Beast (otherwise known as P the Jack Russell Terrier) to bound into the room and proceed with doggy-tongue-torture. There wasn't a dry eye, ear, or nose, in the joint. If only Daddy had rescued us.

Baby's and Dogs have a ridiculous amount of slobber to share with their loved ones.

Catching poop...

My husband J is a great dad. There is nothing he wouldn't do for his darling Miss M. Unfortuneately for him that includes becoming a human diaper.

A few weeks after we brought Miss M home from the hospital J was in full super-dad mode. He split the late night feedings, he changed diapers, he helped her fall asleep at nap time, he did it all (still does). One evening he put on his super-dad cape and went to change a diaper. About 20 minutes later, mission accomplished, he came to bed, but was very quiet.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
"I caught her poop," he replies.
What the heck does that mean?

Apparently between taking off the old diaper and putting on the new one she had started to poop. This had never happened to Daddy before. He got flustered and didn't know what to do - so he caught her poop in his hand. This might have made sense, maybe he was trying avoid getting the changing pad full of poop. BUT we happen to keep disposable potty-pads on our changing pad just for such emergencies. Oh well, Daddy was a real daddy that night, standing in the dark with one hand on the baby and the other hand full of poop.

We called her the "Play-doh Fun Factory" for about a week after that.

Woah is me...

Three things bumming me out this week.

1. While I am elated that our house is finally on the market and available for purchase, I am sad that we will soon be leaving our first family home. For greener pastures, I know, but I'll still miss this place (if we can ever sell the damn thing).

2. Miss M has to go to daycare. Our wonderful Nanny got the teaching position she had been hoping for and rather fortunately (or unfortunately) this coincides with Miss M finally making it off the wait list and in to Kindercare. I like the facility, I'm sure she'll be just fine, but it's not the same as knowing she is safe and comfy at home with the undivided attention of one caregiver. I wish I could stay home with her.

3. We have yet to win the lottery. Every day I look at the bank account and for some reason the numbers keep getting smaller rather than larger, which is just incomprehensible considering how adamantly I had insisted that I would be winning the lottery soon. I suppose having not purchased a ticket in a while might have something to do with it, but rationally I know I really should be blaming the President for my poor lottery luck. Damn Republicans. Oh, and if I've recently written a check to anyone reading this blog...yeah, probably best if you waited a couple weeks to cash that, it might be made of rubber.

It's a bird, it's a plane...

It's a helicopter! No, it's Miss M! I think it's offically time to retire the attitude that Miss M is a baby lump. Yesterday afternoon I put her down for a nap in her crib and came back half an hour later to find her flipped from her back to her stomach and lying 180 degrees in the opposite direction, AND she had managed to turn on her light-up aquarium thing all by herself. She is a lump no longer.

Another testament to her strengh... she has this nice little pillow that props her up, but clearly doesn't prop her enough. Yesterday she was using all her little baby neck and ab muscles to try and hoist herself completely upright into a sitting position. She kind of got stuck halfway, but now I know it won't be long before she'll be sitting up all by herself.

They really do change way too quickly.

Our house on realtor.com

Someone please buy our house!

Portage Park Bungalow

Bean, bean, the magical fruit...

Miss M's nickname is Bean. She's just such a little bean, such a cute bean, such a baby bean... you get the idea.

I've been spending a lot of time starring at her lately. Starring at her chubby little elbow crooked up behind her head when she sleeps. Starring at her puffy pink lips as she rhythmically breathes in and out. I'm trying to commit it all to memory. Before I even have time to notice she'll be a kid, then a teenager, then an adult. I don't want to forget a single thing about her, least of all her quirky way of lifting one eyebrow when she is confused by something new.

The more deeply I fall in love with my daughter the more impossible it becomes for me to understand how anyone can ever feel anything but compassion, love, and awe at the face of a child. How is it humanly possible that so many people mess up their kids? Abuse seems to be a myth to me now - it simply can not be real that a mother or father could harm their little girl's innie-belly-button, or degrade a giggly girl's happy disposition.

I've always felt a great deal of empathy for animals. Dogs, cats, gerbils, I can't bear to think of them hungry, hurt, or alone. I never felt the same way about humans. I suppose because as a human your choices are what dictate your comfort in your life. But now I look into Miss M's deep blue eyes and I see things a little differently. She is unspoiled. She hasn't had the chance to make a poor choice yet. She will be as good and pure as I can make her, for as long as I can keep her safe from the outside world. That's a huge responsibility and a huge blessing, one that too many parents simple throw away.

I follow the good examples around me. Thank goodness for parents (grandparents) that love each other, thank goodness for siblings that look out for each other, thank goodness for friends that would offer you a helping hand. Thank goodness for Miss M.

Iowa...

We're back from our Fourth of July farm adventure. Miss M had a marvelous time meeting all her silly Aunties, Uncles, and Cousins. Below are a few highlights from the trip. Although I doubt the ceiling fan incident would be considered a highlight by Miss M... that's right Granny Nanny, you're in the blog today.

Four and a half hours in an SUV with two dogs and a 5 month old baby is not fun, lets just start with that.

First day in Iowa Miss M and I ditched Daddy to go with the ladies to our cousin's baby shower. Miss M only gets to be the "new baby" for about six months before she is usurped. Oh well, we'll be glad to have another baby girl in the family. We gave the Mom-to-be a bunch of stuff - including a package of potty-pads. Daddy-to-be thought they might be for Mommy and I had to explain that they are for the changing table. Then I got attacked by a giant spider. No joke, it was on the sofa and huge and veiney. Gross. Aside from the spider attack it was a very nice party.

Second day in Iowa someone had the bright idea to decorate the Gator (for you non-farm people that's pretty much just a big riding lawn mower without a blade) in red, white and blue and enter ourselves in the town 4th of July parade. I love to decorate, so we went to town on this thing and pretty soon it looked like the Statue of Liberty had puked national pride all over it. Phase one was complete, but no one had really thought ahead to phase two - who wants to drive/ride this thing in the parade? Anyone, anyone? Crickets. To avoid disappointing a nine year old, Daddy and I stepped up. Those that cowered in fear at the thought of driving a lawn mower down the street in front of hundreds of people shall not be forgotten... we will remember this when Miss M is of lawn-mower-riding age and you will be called upon to repay us.

Third day in Iowa little city dog P discovered cows. And the cows discovered her. For a ratter she's a pretty good herder, if you could call running up to cows barking at them, trying to bite them in the ankle, and then running in circles like her brain had short circuited "herding". Also on the third day Granny Nanny came back from the street festival in a really (really) good mood, picked up Miss M to swing her in the air, and bonked her head on the ceiling fan light. You know that vacation is over when your daughter gets a concussion from a light bulb. (no, she is not really concussed - she's just fine)

On the fourth day we all went home.

Farm time is fun! Thank you everyone for hanging out with us - and for loving up our baby all weekend - and for feeding us and taking care of P & S!

Bathroom remodel pictures

Sadly, I don't seem to have any "before" pictures of the upstairs bathroom, unless you count this one, taken after we ripped out the old one but before we built the new one...



Below are the "after" images - we did it all by ourselves! And by all by ourselves I mean of course with the help of my father, brother, and mother...

I'm sorry if I was mean to you...

Sincerely, I apologize if I was a jerk to you in the past couple of days. I've been on a bit of a bender. Sometimes I'm just too high-strung. I need to relax, thank goodness for the long weekend.

Tori Spelling is no doctor...

Please read the following quote from Tori Spelling in OK Magazine regarding her new daughter Stella:

"She's a miracle," enthuses Tori, who then overshares how the "miracle" actually happened. "I was on one pill and wasn't feeling well, so I went off of it. Two days later, the doctor put me on another, and on that one day, we conceived. It was meant to be!"

Alright, so I don't have a medical degree, but even I know how birth control works. You can not get pregnant from skipping a pill one day if you had previously been taking it for two to four weeks or longer. Not only does the pill not turn-off like a switch if you forget to take it, but it can take up to three days after sex for an egg to be fertilized - so even if they "did it" the day she wasn't on the pill, it's possible they didn't actually conceive on that day.

A Worthwhile Cause....

Below is the website for a Foundation my company may be working with soon. This one hits particularly close to home; as many of you know, a close member of my family has epilepsy. Please take a minute to check this site out - and watch "Emmett's Video".

http://www.epilepsyoutreach.org/

I'm turning into a witch...

And it ain't the pretty Glenda the Good Witch type either.

Anybody watch Jon and Kate plus 8? I can totally identify with Kate. She's anal-retentive, bitchy to her husband, a neat-freak, and always thinks she right. My type of lady.

Kate has 8 children so we give her licence to act like a harpie. I mean, the woman has EIGHT CHILDREN! I only have one, so maybe I shouldn't be such a spaz, right? But Kate doesn't have two dogs, my two stupid dogs have to equate to at least one small child, right? And Kate doesn't work outside the home, my job managing others while keeping all our family balls in the air must equal at least one kid! So, Kate has eight and I have a theoretical three. Eight kids is crazy, but three is no walk in the park either.

I know some of my co-workers get to witness my frustration and exhaustion first hand. It can't be pretty...post-pregnancy K stomping around demanding things, steam coming out of my ears, lasers shooting out from my eyes, and the roaring must be terribly distracting.

But I can't help it. Now I have a purpose, something more important than whatever the heck my purpose was before Miss M. And the fact that I have to leave my primary purpose at home with someone else all day makes the purpose I have at work frustrating. If I'm going to show up at the office everyday it had better be worth my while. I would much rather be at home with my kid, so don't f$#k with me at work. At some point throughout the each day I want to kill just about everyone I work with or for, or myself. (disclaimer: that comment is not a threat of violence, it's an exaggeration)

THANK GOD we're going on vacation this weekend!