From a Sometimes Writer

A Letter to My Daughter: 15 months

2011-12-30T21:08:00.000-05:00

14 month and 15 month picture

Dear Brennan,

You are now 15 months old - I didn't exactly mean to go two months without writing, but it's been hard to find the time (one of these days I'm going to learn I should start writing before the 15th, and then I might actually have it posted on time.

In early November, Daddy described you by writing the following: "Brennan has become Wile E. Coyote: she's able to defy gravity (i.e., stand unaided) just so long as she's not aware that she's doing so. Once she realizes she's standing, she has to either grab on to something for support or else sit down."

Since then, you've spent most of your time cruising around rooms while holding onto tables, furniture, walls, and walkers, but you gradually got more confident at standing on your own. A couple weeks ago, you took your first individual steps for me (I admit I may have gotten close to tears).

And after a week, you were again standing on your own, so I backed away from you and encouraged you to come to me, and you did ever so cautiously. When you reached me, I grabbed you up in a big hug and showered you with kisses. And that set the tone from then on out; you'd walk to us, provided we got super excited and wrapped you in our arms once you arrived (no complaints here!).

Since coming to Iowa for the holidays, it's been very apparent the strides that you've made (literally). Now you are more comfortable on your feet and will toddle around and each day we're seeing less and less crawling.

In a way I'm amused that I'm so taken with these accomplishments. After all, for thousands of years, millions of babies have been popping out new teeth, learning to roll over, sit, stand, and walk, but there's just an awe I experience when I watch you do these things that are so natural and yet extraordinary at the same time.

For Christmas, your daddy decided to upgrade my iPod Touch and even gave it to me early - my old one had trouble holding a charge for an entire day, and, in addition, I had the misfortune of dropping it and cracking the screen this fall. The advantage of this new toy is that this version comes with a camera/video feature (the video quality is great, but the camera images are a bit grainy). I often have it near me, which means when I would have normally missed a shot because the camera was on another floor or in another room, now I have a better chance of capturing it, including this bath shot where you decided you would imagine that the spout protector contained tasty snacks (I love the slurpy bite and your belly laughs!).

You also love mimicking our actions as you will wipe your face and nose with napkins. I've enjoyed introducing you to dried foods to play around in so you could mimic cooking as well.

We gave you a small kitchen for Christmas, and you've enjoyed banging around the toys and serving us your creations.

You spend a lot of time talking on "phones," which are made up of rectangular blocks or the decoy remotes (the remote to the VCR, for instance, that we don't need and whose batteries have been removed). Over the holidays, you've also added the toy loaf of bread and ear of corn as acceptable "phones." I like catching your pretend conversations, especially when you giggle in reaction to the imaginary caller.

At our church, babies only move out of the nursery when they can confidently stand or, preferably, walk. I believe you have been the oldest child in the nursery for a while now, but you seem to enjoy yourself there. The volunteers call you the Little Mother since you are concerned that each baby has a toy to play with and will hand them out. We love hearing the volunteers comment on your "sweet spirit," and I'm grateful you are generous. It sounds like in January you get to move up to the toddler room, joining many friends who have already been there for a time. And I just learned another baby will join you - Ella's mom has held her back in the nursery since you two are good friends, but now she's willing to let her move up with you (Ella is 3 months your junior but has been comfortably walking for at least a couple months already).

Sharing at the library

With your mobility comes a destructive force - you're at that stage where you are immensely curious but don't yet know boundaries. You are quick to find things that catch your eye and you want to examine or manipulate them. Your daddy was home with you one day when he said you were happily playing with your toy train in the hallway outside the bathroom. He stepped in the kitchen to rinse off your breakfast tray, and not 30 seconds later, he found you in the bathroom covered in toilet paper.

You are also very adept at transforming a room. I took a before and after shot recently to show how quickly you can pull out toys and books and toss them everywhere.


Before and after (notice in the background B crawling to destroy another room since her work here is finished

We began weaning you at 12 months, starting with only a morning and evening nursing session and giving you blended bottles at other feedings. After a week or two, we were down to only the morning session, and by 13 months you were entirely weaned. It was pretty anticlimactic - you were apparently ready and didn't make a fuss. We also eliminated bottles at that time and you're none the worse for wear. Until our Christmas trip to Iowa, we still needed to briefly warm your whole milk to take the edge off the cold, but we went cold turkey here, and you seem to have adjusted swimmingly.

Kickin' it old school

You're also enjoying scribbling with crayons, so a gift from your great grandmother was a Magna Doodle - it was a big hit.

You love to lean in close to draw and color - very detail-oriented

In an effort to distract your hands during diaper changes, I would sing the Itsy Bitsy Spider with you and help you do the hand motions while Daddy changed you. Now, you will do it yourself, and you'll even initiate it at other times. I haven't been able to catch it on video yet, but here's your beginning climbing-spider motion, your signal that it's time to sing.

You love to sit in various baskets, and after your grandparents brought you a sled and you kept climbing in with books and toys, they asked if you had a tiny seat all your own. You didn't, so they decided that you deserved a little rocker and ottoman like your cousin.

When we arrived at their place, several days before you got to open your chair, you discovered a little wooden rocking chair and enjoyed climbing in and out for the rest of our visit.

You seemed to enjoy your new gift, but you haven't been able to play in it much since it didn't fit in our car - don't worry, as they're going to make a trip out to deliver it soon.

Your hair is slowly growing, and several people have commented on the slight curls in the back, as well as the red tint that's sometimes visible. There are pictures of your Aunt Heather with reddish curly hair as a toddler, and I think there was actually one of my mom I saw the other day, so it looks like it's not very unusual in my family.

You are not picky when it comes to food, and you're getting better at feeding yourself. Food dropping is at a minimum - I think being able to communicate to us via sign language the "All done!" sign has helped us know when you're finished, thus keeping you from thinking you need to throw everything on the floor. Over Christmas you tried black olives for the first time. You showed an interest, so I gave you a small section of one. After shoving it in your mouth, you adamently communicated the "All done!" sign, arms flailing, but in fact you actually wanted me to give you more (this is where you're inconsistent signs for "More", one of which is very similar to "All done!", gets confusing). Your daddy doesn't like black olives, and I only like them as a part of pizza or dip, but I'm glad you're curious and excited to eat various foods.

Sleeping is pretty great right now - bedtime is typically around 7 PM, and you'll quietly put yourself to sleep within 5 - 10 minutes. You will sleep about 12 hours, whereupon you'll happily awaken. You're still taking a morning and an afternoon nap, both around 45 minutes long. Over Christmas, you've been getting to bed a couple hours later at night but waking at the same time in the morning, so your naps have adjusted accordingly, typically in the 90-minute range.

You still have only six teeth, but I can especially feel the bottom one-year molars about to burst out. Babbling has increased, but specific words are doubtful. I think you have said "kitty," and a couple family members heard "hello" while playing on a toy phone. Daddy was feeding you animal crackers when you clearly said "cracker." So they're few so far, but they're increasing. I liken this stage to when I was pregnant and I wasn't sure whether or not I was feeling you move yet. In hindsight, it was clear what had been flutters and movements, but in the moment it's difficult to decipher when it's the first time. This goes for words, too - we think we might be hearing something, but we're not always confident. You certainly have comprehension, though. You can understand what we're talking about - I've asked a couple times if you'd get your shoes, or grab a certain toy, or I'll start reciting words from a book and you'll disappear to retrieve it.

Being your cute self

Motherhood continues to remind me that I still have a ways to go. When I was in college, I thought I was pretty mature and selfless. Then I got married and realized there were areas of my life that I was still selfish over. Give us seven years of marriage, and I think I've reached a self-denying character, and then I have a child. My day is no longer mine. Instead, I'm devoted to you and your needs - diaper changes, meals, water, milk, snacks, books, toys, stimulation, picking up toys, washing, folding laundry, cleaning, sleeping. I am in this place of not knowing exactly what my life holds for me now and I have to submit to these daily tasks. The floor - both upstairs and down - is routinely covered with toys that need to be picked up. And as you're not quite old enough to be responsible for this, I'm faced with tidying messes I didn't cause all day long. I admit my heart isn't always in the right place and I have to remind myself to deny myself and submit to time not being my own. It's one of my absolute favorite times of life, but I still have areas of my character that need to be shaped. So stay patient with me, and I'll keep working at it, too.

Love,
Mommy

A Letter to My Daughter: 13 Months

2011-10-23T22:07:00.000-04:00

13 months, or her Serious Phase

Dear Brennan,

Long before you were born, I remember reading how someone secretly wrote annual letters to their daughter, and then when the child graduated high school, presented them all to her. I loved the idea of recording some of the highlights of each year and vowed to do the same for my children.

You were born, and I was mentally cataloging the things I wanted to remember to record in your annual letter. There are so many experiences and changes in the first year, though, that once you hit three months, I knew I wanted to begin writing you monthly letters so I had a chance of preserving these memories. I knew I'd do so for your first year, but it was a big question how often I'd continue once you turned one. At the least, I'll continue annual letters, but as you continue to change markedly, I think I may just play this second year by ear - perhaps there will be quarterly or biannual letters.

You have made some leaps in the two weeks since I last wrote, though, so there's going to be this 13th month letter in the mix.

One of my favorite changes has been how quickly you pick up on cause and effect after I show you something. For instance, you've been accustomed to playing with your mailbox toy, but you were unaware that you could drop the letters through the top slot. I showed you, and then you took over from there, dropping letters in, one after another with a fair measure of success. This similar skill has transferred to your ring toy; you love to whip those rings off, but until I showed you and you began to mimic me, it never occurred to you to return them.

In a less glamorous development, you've learned your finger fits perfectly into your nostrils. You might do this once a day, and I haven't yet captured it with a picture. Eric laughed heartily when he saw, but I'm trying to discourage you from this display.

You seem to be drawn to pairs of items. I've long known children hit a stage where they want to hold something in each hand (during eating, for instance). But I've observed that you love to hold two like items: two similar Notre Dame stuffed animals (monkey and bear), two stacking rings, two plastic people, two letters. Sometimes you surprise me by two same-colored items (the orange letter and orange person, for instance), and I'm not sure if you did this deliberately, or whether it's just a coincidence.

Running around with two rings

You're still good at independent play; near your toy box in the basement is a corner of stuffed animals, and sometimes you'll crawl back there to play with them, all the while hugging them, dragging them around, and "talking" to them.

"Why are you invading my space, Mom?! We're having a moment!"

You're getting more vocal with babbling, but I still don't think you've said your first word yet. You soak it all in, though. We frequently have people comment how attentive you are and how nothing gets by you. Some speculate that you'll begin with phrases or sentences and skip the single-word stage, but time will tell. Since I see so much going on in your head, though, I'm not concerned at the delay.

Analyzing a balloon

A week and a half ago, you spent Tuesday being sick - it was quite sad. When you woke up, one of your eyes was pretty red. I had to go to work, but I told Eric he should call the doctor about it. The doctor's office said unless you were showing discomfort or there was discharge, it wouldn't be diagnosed as pink eye; they speculated that it could be a reaction to food or in response to a well-placed bump. As the day progressed, you were exhibiting symptoms of a cold. I took you home at 3, and as you'd only taken two short naps for your dad and were drifting off in the short car ride, I laid you down for an additional nap. About 90 minutes later you woke up with a fever. You felt very hot, and the doctor's office had just closed. I needed to get an accurate temperature reading, and while our thermometer takes all of a second to measure, you often toss your head around and won't let me get in your ear. Knowing that you're observant, I decided I'd let you watch while I took my temperature, and then I pretended to take the temperature of several of your stuffed animals; I'd put it in their ear, say "beep," then remove. After letting you watch me do this to three of your toys, I tried it on you, and I was so grateful you were still.

And then I saw the temp: 103.1.

My mommy heart was pounding. I knew that was high, and I didn't know the cut-off for when I should take you to the hospital. Your daddy was in class, so my first move was to grab a baby-care book from our shelf. It discussed that temps over 103 were worthy of at least discussing with our doctor. I called the doctor's office. Fortunately, they have an urgent-care nurse on duty for a few hours in the evening, so I was able to speak with her.

She said that unless you showed signs of dehydration or your temperature reached 105, we could keep you at home. I gave you some Tylenol and tried to encourage fluids. Eric came home, and we took turns cuddling you and trying to comfort you any way possible.

Snuggling against Daddy during Sesame Street (allowed because you were sick)

We offered you a pureed jar of baby food (chicken noodle, naturally!), figuring that while you do eat table foods now, pureed food would be easy to digest and offered extra fluids. You gobbled it down, but it was within an hour that we encountered another first: your first big-girl vomit. Suffice it to say that we quickly cleaned you (and Daddy, and the other inanimate casualties) up and set you in a bath. After your bath, upon noticing you weren't as hot to the touch, I checked your temperature again, and it had decreased to 99.3. You were splashing around happily with your toys and babbling excitedly, so I think the Tylenol (and vomiting) went a long ways to helping you feel better. We still elevated your mattress and ran the vaporizer to further aid in your recovery, but you were yourself the next day.

Your parents are both avid readers, and so it was only a matter of time before you were bound to follow suit. Your love of books is very evident now. In the mornings, you will happily crawl to one of your baskets of books and pull them out, splitting your time among your favorites. It's not unusual for you to open one and hand it to us, your cue that it's time for us to read aloud. This past week, there have been a handful of days where I've read books with you in the morning for over an hour, and that only satiates you for a time. You're surprisingly gently with lift-the-flap books (and you'll gently press the flap back in place if I lifted it while reading aloud). However, pop-up books do not always fare so well; they've become special books, the ones you "read" while under supervision.

Your favorite book at the moment is Where Is Baby's Mommy? I find you happily flipping pages and lifting flaps for long stretches of time, until you spot me watching, wherein you hand it over to me to read about a dozen times in a row. But there are a pretty large number that you're drawn to over and over again, and I'm grateful we've been able to pick up nice used copies of books at a Better World Books outlet for $0.49/each. We may be on a tight budget, but we can afford that!

Again with two similar toys

I let you play with a crayon to see what you'd do. There was a lot of hitting it against the paper. You wanted to keep holding the crayon while playing elsewhere and cried when I took it away; sorry, honey, but I could visualize purple streaks on our floors and walls!

You like to dance, so I try to play some dance-worthy music that you can rock to. I don't always know what will catch your fancy, but it's fun to watch you stop everything to bop. Sometimes you'll crawl to the stereo and try to push the buttons (and, um, increase the volume...).

Possible dancing pose (and a frilly skirt to frighten Daddy)

Stranger anxiety has set in full force. Typically Daddy or Mommy is with you most of the time, but when I attend MOPS (a mom's group) or when we're at church, we place you in the nursery. It's gotten to the point where you whimper while we sign you in, but you settle down in the first minute we're gone, and you know some of the other children pretty well and you'll happily seek comfort in playing with them.

Watching Daddy rake

The last time we had a playdate, and this weekend at a birthday party, you sat by yourself or stayed with a parent until you warmed up to the surroundings, and then you were comfortable exploring and interacting. Looks like you might be an introvert after all!

A friend who has a daughter just a little younger than you hopes you will end up being friends with her daughter in the teenage years, since she is sure her daughter needs you to temper her with reminders of, "Ella, I'm not so sure that's a good idea." Already her daughter will shovel fistfuls of food in her mouth, which earned her the nickname of Cookie Monster, and you are still pretty dainty with the finger foods.

So that's where you are at 13 months. You aren't standing unsupported or walking yet, but you navigate around without any trouble. We're migrating more to indoor activities, although we've enjoyed the stretches of warm weather this fall.

I've really enjoyed time with you, especially switching down to only two days in the office instead of three. While I still work 12 hours, it's a huge difference to only have to go in twice a week, and I'm loving your goofy turns. It's fun knowing what will make you laugh: sneaking up on you, "running" away while you chase excitedly, playing peekaboo through the crib slats after you wake up from a nap. You're just a really fun daughter, and I love (nearly) everything about you -- eliminate the food tossing and the finger up the nose, and you'd be perfect!

Love,
Mommy

A Letter to My Daughter: 12 Months

2011-09-30T21:53:00.002-04:00

Brennan,

You are now one year old (and, um, a couple weeks...it's been hard to get away to type this up - probably most of it psychological as it seems pretty big to be writing your one-year-old letter).

Since last month, you now crawl everywhere, including up the stairs. The first time you did this, it was actually after a bag of yarn I'd set halfway up as a reminder to mail to a friend - I was amused (and frightened) that yarn could be an incentive for you.

You pull yourself up on everything and cruise along while holding onto the furniture. This means you sometimes lose your balance, and we're starting to spot some marks and bruises because of it. Mostly, while you cry, it appears to be more from surprise than pain since you quiet quickly with some cuddling. Today, there was a new incident; you were digging toys out of your toy box, piling them up behind you (your typical MO), when next thing we knew, your feet were in the air and you found yourself in the toy box. This was not a happy discovery on your part.

You are still a pretty quiet baby, no surprise when you have two introverts for parents, but there are times we'll catch you in a babbling mood, talking away to one of us, the cats, or your toys. In fact, while you do strings of mamamamama and dadadadada along with some other syllables, I'm not sure you've figured out what they mean. But if you have said a first word - and we're not confident of this yet - it may very well have been "kitty." It seems like you say something like this when one of the cats are around, but perhaps they're just in the proximity during one of your talkative moods. And sometimes you're tickled that you can squeal like a dolphin.

I love seeing you interact with your toys. Furthermore, as you continue to get older, it's fascinating to watch your preferences exhibited. Certain toys you're drawn to and will always go after as soon as you notice Mom has tried to tidy in your wake. For example, there is this giraffe and a lion that you will pull around in tandem, taking turns snuggling - and maybe even kissing - them. And certain books have won your favor, as well as a tea set (with a zillion pieces constantly strewn about the floor).

This month also saw the first overnights I took away from you. Previously, I'd only been gone long enough to work my short days, but after I had an opportunity to surprise my sisters, I begged off for a weekend, and you were well cared for in my absence by your daddy and grandparents.

You are still figuring out food - you'll only feed yourself certain foods (and the spoon is a rare occurrence) - but you're getting more and more interested in what we're eating. If we're trying to feed you something, it better be the only food in sight, or we better be sharing what we're having.

We're happy to see this development. I knew you wouldn't forever be eating pureed foods, but sometimes it felt like you just weren't curious about other foods and weren't in a hurry to figure out chewing. We could do without the food and cups getting deliberately dropped on the floor, but I understand, from accounts from other parents, that this just appears to be a stage.

You're getting better at drinking from sippy cups, and periodically we'll put a splash of water in a cup without a lid and you'll slosh it down.

You're fascinated by all animals. We never see any fear exhibited, no matter the size of the animal. The only thing that seems to hold you back from petting them is the euphoria that you finally got close enough to do so. Anytime we're in your nursery when the neighbor dog is yapping outside, you look up at the window, letting us know it's time to put you on the changing table so you can lean forward and put your hands and face against the glass as you giggle and smile and squeal. The neighbor has gotten used to seeing us there, laughing at your expressions.

I know a year has passed since we welcomed you into our lives, and I know you're no longer a baby (as much as I hate to acknowledge that I may, indeed, now have a toddler), but I look at you sometimes and I wonder where exactly that fragile little infant went and when did this excited, joyous toddler appear.

You are learning everyday. There is a funnel toy with balls; the aim is to drop them (through a funnel top) into the toy, activating the lights and music. I demonstrated this hundreds of times over the months, and while you knew where the balls rolled out from the bottom, you preferred to pick them up from there and shake them since they made a delightful rattling sound. Then one day, I saw you rip the funnel top off and drop the balls repeatedly through the small opening. Whenever I'd try to replace the top to make it easier, you'd give me a look and rip it right back off. Just like that, it was as if you'd been doing that task for weeks.

Sleeping is going well. You had a cold and a couple new teeth that messed up your naps and bedtime for a week or two, but now, you sleep around 13 or so hours a day. When all is going well, after brushing your teeth and reading a few stories, we lay you in bed, turn on the sound machine, and you curl up and pass out. Sometimes you do this before we even finish walking down the stairs - you're still at two naps (around 75 minutes each) and go to bed around 7:45 PM or so.

Your mouth boasts six teeth now (four on top, two on bottom), and I can see evidence of a couple more on bottom wanting to come out before long.

Your birthday was a simple affair - we sang to you, you investigated a cupcake, and we opened presents.

You weigh 23.5 pounds and are off the charts with your height - 32 inches!

Your noggin is pretty large as well at 18.75 inches. You look like you're going to be long and lean.

And that's about where I'd normally end your monthly letters, but it seems that on the occasion of the birthday letter that I should also reflect on what the year has done in your parents. Aside from the amusing observations, like the fact that I was one week away from going a year between haircuts (June to June, baby!), there have been some notable changes.

But first a tangent or two to help set this up. I recently read the preface to Mother Shock: Loving Every (Other) Minute of It, and I think Buchanan accurately compares motherhood to the culture shock that can be experienced when living in a foreign country: the initial charm and quaintness of being there that later transforms to confusion and frustration when you can't understand the language and don't get the customs, only eventually morphing into a confidence as you settle in. I've hurriedly painted a broad picture of her premise, but it resonated with me as she connected it back to motherhood.

We weren't naive about what was in store for us when we brought you home - I recall vividly seeing a friend after the birth of her first child looking like a zombie, and I have long told Eric that he needed to be kind after you arrived and if the house was as untidy (or more so) when he returned home as when he'd left, he should not ask what I'd done all day but understand that a little grace might be in order. These tidbits we could pick up after observing friends, but it's hard to be prepared for what's in store. There's so much we don't know, and there's a desire to do things right, even while knowing you're going to mess up and make mistakes.

In our case, I remember on one of the first days home, you started wailing in the evening. We were so sure it was due to gas, so we were reading in all the books about ways to help relieve it: pumping your legs bicycle-style, making sure we did a more thorough job burping you during and after feedings, etc. This continued until the second or third day in a row of you crying at the same time. Then we realized it was just the oft-known "witching hour" for babies - a time of day (right around 9:23 PM) when you just need to cry to let it all out. Nothing was wrong, you were fed, clean, and being comforted, but you just needed to wail for 20 minutes, and then you'd abruptly stop. This only continued until you hit three weeks, and then it magically disappeared when that growth spurt hit.

I could list more instances of adjusting to figuring out what we were doing, but I'll focus on broader strokes. I went from working full time, very well knowing the expectations set out for me, to suddenly working only 12 hours a week and spending the rest of my time caring for you. Because you are around all the time, it was an adjustment trying to figure out how our lives embraced yours. When would I get time to be myself? How did Eric and I balance caring for you as well as caring for ourselves?

You have always been an easy child to care for, so most of the tension was figuring out how we adjusted our lives with you here. I absorbed many of the household tasks because I was home more, and that freed up your dad to focus on you and his own work while he was home. We have a better understanding of when one parent needs some free time - not that you have exhausted us, but just as a way to remember who we are outside of caring for you.

Now that you typically put yourself down for naps and bedtime, this has alleviated some of the pressure - there are suddenly pockets in the day to do housework and an evening free to fill as we choose. But I understand how the first child can cause a lot of change in a marriage as we try to find a routine, all while sleep deprived early on.

I remember watching friends and family enter parenthood. There's the type that has their lives revolve around the children, and the type that includes their children into their existing activities. I much preferred the latter; after all, one day you're going to up and leave us, but until then, it's our job to demonstrate to you what a healthy marriage should look like, model positive friendships, show you how to volunteer your time to serve others less fortunate, and so on. I'm glad that, while you are so important to us and loved beyond description, we've welcomed you into our routines - you were fawned over by the high-school students at the church youth group, you've tagged along to countless knitting outings. This is not to say that you haven't changed us, or our choices of activities, but we wanted you to come alongside us in some of these things instead of leaving them entirely. It meant some aspects changed: your dad changed your diaper on the floors of many venues, I'd put on the baby carrier and rock you to sleep during the message or worship at youth group, and sometimes I wouldn't get my knitting even pulled out of my bag, but it meant much for me to bring you to these places that held meaning for us and had an air of familiarity.

We've grown a lot as parents, just as you have grown; for the first few weeks, we kept a small lamp on in the bedroom, both to aid us in waking during the frequent nighttime feeding sessions, as well as to allow us a peek at you when we needed that affirmation that all was well. I used to know when the DVR did its cycle in the middle of the night, and I streamed several movies in 30-minute stretches in order to keep me awake when you were nursing. You started out taking 25-30 minutes to nurse every three hours, then you increased efficiency and brought that down to 10 minutes a feeding.

Brennan by month

So here we are, you a year old and every day learning new things and continually bringing us joy. It's been a blessed year. There was the stretch where every time I washed you after feeding you at the table, you would dissolve into giggles whenever I washed your left hand; that meant the left hand got washed beyond the point of being clean just because I was so enamored with your laughing. Or when you mimic our actions, dance to music, or laugh as you try to keep us in your eyesight while we try to hide around the couch or into the next room, you continually on our trail. The way you have to peek at yourself in a mirror once we put a hat on your head. How a bump can be forgotten if Mommy will hold you close. The fascination you have with the simplest of objects, like ROTC brochures. How you pause your play to lean down and lick the floors in our house as I look on in confusion (and a little disgust) and you grin widely in response.

Someone asked me recently, after I mentioned your great sleeping habits, if I missed the times of rocking you to sleep, and, without hesitation, I said no. My favorite time with you is whatever stage you're currently at. True, when you were young you were often being carried around in my arms or a baby wrap, and those were enjoyable moments as I watched you alternate between sleeping and watching everything around you. But now, you will sidle up to me and rest your head on my leg, or give me a hug or a sloppy kiss. Why would I trade that? Now, instead of me giving one-sided kisses to a sleeping babe, you demonstrate your love by affectionate kisses and big smiles. Now you reward my silly antics with laughs, and I'm continually entertained with discovering what warrants a big guffaw from you. Certain words during normal conversation will elicit hysterical laughter - yesterday, okey-dokey was the winner. You loved controlling our singing as you kept opening and closing your musical birthday card at arbitrary points. Why would I want to miss out on these discoveries to settle for what was known and comfortable?

While I will miss aspects of each age as you grow older, I embrace learning more about your personality and the person you're becoming. I don't wish to turn back time, and I'm in no hurry to rush things along.

You are beautiful and bring us so much joy, and I am so honored to be your mother.

Love,
Mommy

A Weekend to Remember

2011-09-12T10:30:00.000-04:00

I have three spectacular sisters, beautiful both inside and out. And they all reside pretty near each other in Iowa (one has bounced between Iowa and Minnesota, but she's still closer to them than I am). I'm grateful for things like email and cell phones and the periodic Skype date that allows me to keep in touch. But I admit I get a little bummed when I notice they have a sister date, and given my distance, I can't participate. Going home only twice a year makes it difficult to live daily life together, grab a coffee, enjoy the mundane as well as the festivities.

The youngest, Charity, recently went abroad for a year on a Fulbright Fellowship. Before she left, my older sister and her husband were throwing her a going-away party. Unfortunately, it was being held at a time this Indiana contingent couldn't attend - we'd already made our summer trip back home, classes were getting ready to start, and there just wasn't any way I could justify driving my daughter all that way on my own for an evening party. I was trying to console myself in the fact that Charity had spent a week at my place this summer, and it's not like I'd never get to see her pretty face via Skype once she was gone. But there was a little bit of me that was disappointed. After all, we're all four of us close friends, and I was envious of the others all being able to get together when I was over seven hours away. Nevertheless, I put it from my mind. It's not like Charity would think I loved her any less because of my absence. In fact, she wouldn't expect me to be there because of the above points. So that's the way things stood.

Until the Saturday a week before her party.

That evening, I got a string of text messages from my brother-in-law. He wondered if, perchance, I would allow him to purchase an airline ticket for me to come home for the weekend as a surprise. He understood that we are all close and that this was the last opportunity to spend quality time together before Charity left, and was there any chance I could fly back? He'd even looked into potential flights and was tossing out times. If I would allow it, he really wanted to do this for us.

I was super excited. Eric, sitting next to me, was oblivious, so I started filling him in. I tried not to let my mind run away without first weighing whether or not this could happen. Since I'm still nursing, I needed to consider my options. It seemed like I ought to bring her along so that Eric could focus on his studies without distractions. I could certainly have Brennan fly on my lap, but would Chad be able to come into possession of a pack-and-play and convertible carseat? Those items would be too large for me to bring along solo. Plus, there were all the accoutrements that go along with traveling with a baby - toys, clothing backups, diapers, possibly the baby monitor. Add schlepping suitcases and a stroller, going through security and the like: was it crazy to even consider this trip? Then there are the logistics: could I be so lucky to have her nap in the baby carrier again, or had she outgrown that? Would she stand to be confined during the flights? She's pretty mellow, but she does have a will that she sees fit to exercise now and again.

Then Eric reminded me his parents were coming in town that same weekend for a baby fix. After Eric gave his blessing for me to go on a solo trip while leaving him and his parents with care of Brennan for the weekend, I booked my ticket before my brother-in-law could rescind his offer. I sent him the itinerary, which had me flying in Friday about when he would get off work.

Then Sunday morning, I get an email from my brother-in-law. In addition to flying me in, he was offering me a stipend to plan some sister activities for Saturday morning. As he suggested, manis/pedis, or whatever girls like to do; it was up to me to plan. He was offering a budget, and it was up to me to create some memories.

This was an attractive proposition. What should we do together? Sure, manicures and pedicures are decadent and relaxing, but we technically could pamper ourselves in our respective towns; we didn't all have to be together to indulge in nail care. I remembered some friends of mine who had gotten a sister photoshoot as a gift for their parents, and I dared to hope I could arrange something similar.

I wrote my favorite photographer, a friend from college who does it professionally on the side. She is based out of Iowa City (a couple hours from where I'd be staying), but she happened to be in the area for a wedding in the fall when we had her take Brennan's pictures for her birth announcement, so I thought it was worth a shot.

I was anxious as I waited for her response. What were the odds she was free? And if she was, would she even want to travel all that way for a photoshoot? If she was busy, I knew my chances were pretty slim that I could find: 1) a photographer that wasn't already booked at such late notice on a Saturday in August, and 2) someone that would fit in our budget.

Fortunately, she had plans to attend the Iowa State Fair that Saturday, and she was free that morning and more than happy to play a role in this weekend. I was ecstatic.

Chad and I were sending rapid-fire texts and emails as plans fell into place over the coming days (we tallied nearly 50 texts and maybe a dozen emails in under a week). He worked with Hope's fiance to make sure Hope would show up Saturday morning with the clothes she'd need (she works overnights and wouldn't have a chance to head home before our shoot). There was a chance of rain Saturday, so he let me know he had a key to his friend's photography studio. We were trying to manage every contingency.

I was anticipating my departure on Friday afternoon, and my co-workers and friends were anticipating the surprise with me. I even had trouble sleeping a couple nights as I was thinking about the surprise and how much I was looking forward to this time. I was like a little kid, getting impatient and hardly able to wait until the day came. Chad shared that he even made a secretary at work cry after he told her what he was planning. He, also, was getting excited for Heather's reaction.

Finally Friday came: I worked a partial day, and then Eric whisked me to the airport. I was getting a little emotional as I said goodbye to Brennan. This would be the longest I'd ever been away from her. I'd never been gone even six hours, and suddenly I was planning to be absent two nights.

If we ever form a band, this is part of the cover art

Flights were uneventful, Chad picked me up, and we were just waiting for Heather and Charity to return home (Charity stays with them when she is in town). Heather had an art opening at work that would keep her away until around 7 PM, and Chad had hinted to Charity that it had been a long week and he might like the house to himself when he got home from work so he could decompress (clever cover to get me inside unnoticed, no?).

The girls knew something was up (Chad was having trouble hiding his enthusiasm), but he tried to throw them off the track. He kept saying that he couldn't wait until Saturday, and that Heather's birthday gift was ordered and it looked like it would arrive in time for the weekend. As it was something he thought she would enjoy while Charity was still around, he was going to give it to her early.

Our plan was to have them open a card. Inside would be a picture of the gift - me! I would hide out in the loft until the appropriate time. My Kindle kept me company until Charity arrived home. I eavesdropped on her conversation with Chad (kind of a surreal experience), and then Heather arrived home. I took a video of the exchange - it's nothing special since I was trying to keep my cover, but I think it should get to play a part telling this story.

They were happily (and completely) surprised, and later Hope joined us for dinner. I announced our Saturday plans: a photoshoot followed by pedicures.

Saturday was amazing. It has been a long time since we four have been together with no other family around. We're talking years. As in I don't even remember when. Usually we can only swing three sisters together, and if all four are present, so are many other bodies.

There were so many stories and laughs and hilarious revelations. As you can see from all these pictures, we were smiling and laughing pretty much nonstop. I just got these proofs a couple days ago, and I've picked a number of my favorites from the 78 (!) images. I tend to be drawn to black and white shots, but I noticed I'm especially favoring the candid shots Mandy caught of us. It captures how we act when we get together and how much love we have for each other. I love that this goofiness and hilarity is memorialized in film.

The weekend passed in a whirlwind. Three weeks later, and I'm still so thankful I got to have such an experience. It was so much more than the price of a plane ticket and a photoshoot, and I trust that was apparent to anyone who saw us together. It was beyond special, and I'm still so amazed that Chad stumbled upon the idea at the last minute and decided to act on it. I'm also humbled that my visit was Heather's birthday present (and that she didn't find that wanting). I hope their souls were fed as much as mine was.

My Lucky Charm

2011-09-10T22:15:00.000-04:00

Since I was all overcome with the Iowa - Iowa State game earlier today, it seemed only fitting to come back and give some closure.

Iowa State is my alma mater. When our daughter was born, my sister and her husband (also alumni of Iowa State), gave her an ISU onesie and sleeper. Last season, we were trying to have her enjoy both her Notre Dame and her ISU outfits, so any given Saturday she'd be wearing something from one of the schools.

We introduced our family to her last October, and the day we left, Iowa State was playing Texas. Brennan was wearing her sleeper. As we drove home, we listened to coverage on the radio. And wouldn't you know it, but they were winning. Winning a game they were not supposed to. We were euphoric (and may have pulled into a gas station towards the end of the game as our signal was weakening).

Chad, her uncle and giver of the sleeper, saw this as an omen. Each Saturday, he would text to see if she was ready for the game. Unfortunately, I could not always answer in the affirmative (recall that we were trying to also extend some luck to the Irish, altough that was never successful). However, each time she wore an ISU outfit for the duration of the game, they won. She happened to be napping at the start of the Nebraska game and suited up late. We learned in that instance that while they tied, her luck didn't go into overtime.

The outfits from last year were both 0-3 month sized. The onesie was outgrown, but the sleeper - given its magical properties, I'm sure - has been the one outfit in her wardrobe that she hadn't outgrown. We're phasing her out of her 12-month outfits and into 18- and 24-month ones, but still the sleeper remained in circulation.

Last week, we pulled it out for the Cyclone season opener against UNI. Sure, the sleeper's sleeves only reached her elbows, and she probably wouldn't want to stretch her legs out all the way, but we kept her in it, and the Cyclones came out with a victory.

I was going to retire the sleeper, but then I was informed that today was the day they faced their rivals, the long-storied matchup against Iowa, typically with ISU as the underdog and Iowa as the favored team expected to come out on top. Be that as it may, I vowed to shove her in that sleeper to bring any luck possible their way.

Fortunately, Heather and Chad thought it was fitting to send Brennan her birthday gift early - she is now the proud owner of both short- and long-sleeved onesies with matching pants. No matter the weather this football season, she will be prepared.

I admit I was nervous - Iowa State has suffered at the hands of Iowa the last few years. But bright and early this morning, she was dressed in her new duds.

We weren't able to watch it on TV, but we followed online play trackers. At halftime, the score was tied at 10. I'd laid Brennan down for a nap with under two minutes left in the game when the score was 24-17 Iowa. I was rocking her, trying to follow on Facebook via status updates whether we were able to tie it up. Once I'd learned we were going into OT, after I set a sleeping daughter in her crib, I even pulled out the outgrown sleeper and draped it at the head of the crib. (You know, in case that was the final push ISU needed to get that victory.)

I won't exhaust you with details, since you know from my last post that they were in triple overtime. Brennan woke up then, so I hurriedly grabbed her and she sat with me (naturally, with the old sleeper on her lap) as I followed online. ISU and Iowa matched each other for touchdowns in the first two overtimes. Then Iowa got a field goal, and ISU got the touchdown that gave them the win.

I realize Brennan's luck can't hold out forever (it's a lot to expect a baby to carry a whole football team's fate), but she will be wearing her ISU outfits every Saturday this season!

Etsy Giveaway Winner

2011-09-10T15:53:00.002-04:00

I'm freaking out as I'm following the Iowa-Iowa State game online - they're now in triple overtime! - so I thought I'd try to calm down by posting the winner to the giveaway in my last post.

Random.org drew a number for me and selected number one. So Amanda, you are now the proud owner of a list taker! I'll message you for your address.

I hope you enjoy it!

Etsy Giveaway

2011-09-01T15:42:00.091-04:00

I've been meaning to share that I've opened an Etsy shop. I feel a little weird drawing attention to myself (I am truly an introvert), but just pretend you don't notice my embarrassment. I figure if I give something away while mentioning it, it's not as bad, right?

So, the back story. I love to create things, whatever the medium. Both of my parents and all of my siblings have a creative bent as well, so I come by this honestly. I get my feet wet in some new hobby, and then it just consumes me for a while until I come up for air.

I suspect my shop will evolve, showing whatever my passion is at that given moment. I've really been enjoying my sewing machine, mainly because I can see a finished project a little faster than with my knitting needles. After all, there appears to be something -- or, rather, someone -- keeping me occupied as of late.

I've had friends of friends send requests for handknit items, specifically for little boys, as they say cute boy clothing is hard to come by. I'm still working on designing a cute little boy's vest, but perhaps some will appear before too long.

Right now I am focusing on items for children - no big surprise, since I have the cutest model on hand. This ranges from baby pants ideal for children who are cloth-diapered to wool diaper covers and diaper wipes.

And I love to make handmade cards, so I've listed a variety of those. Some are suitable for a baby shower or to welcome the arrival of a new baby.

And some are blank and are for any occasion.

I also have a few list takers for sale; these are quilted pieces that hold a small legal pad, pen, and an extra pocket for any other receipts/papers/cards/lists you need to keep.

In honor of the new shop, I wanted to do a giveaway here for one of my list takers. (In the interest of full disclosure, there's a minor imperfection on this one; I was worried the elastic closure was going to pull free, so I reinforced it with thread on the outside, but I still love the thing -- it's my favorite -- so I trust one of you will as well.) If you prefer one in my shop to the one below and I pick your name, you'll have the option to substitute.

All you need to do to enter is take a look at my shop and either tell me your favorite item or an item you think I should carry. In addition to the boy vest mentioned above, I've toyed with offering stitch markers, knitting bags, zippered pouches, leggings, bibs and the like. Any of these tempt you? What am I overlooking?

I'll draw the winner from the comments on September 10th and then contact them for their address. Also, when you comment, make sure there's a way for me to reach you (via your blog, Ravelry, Etsy shop, email address, etc.). If you don't leave a way for me to get in touch with you, I'll post the winner's name here and wait 48 hours for them to contact me. If they don't, I'll pick a new winner.

And should you be so inclined to want to make a purchase from my shop, through September 30th I am offering a 10-percent-off discount code in honor of my and my daughter's September birthdays. Just enter the code birthday10 at checkout and the discounted price will be calculated.

Why I Write in This Medium

2011-08-27T11:18:00.000-04:00

When I started this blog, it was an outlet for teaching anecdotes. Then I moved and was no longer teaching, but I certainly had more time to knit, so I began to catalog some of those achievements. Then I got pregnant and shared some of that experience for friends and family that lived at a distance. And after losing Katherine, I processed some of my grief through these public writings.

I realize some may not understand why I felt the need to share some of those raw feelings in such a public forum. I'm not sure if I can completely explain that need either. I surely have many journal entries that never saw the light of day here because I thought they were too personal. But there's a feeling of anonymity here, this space online that, unless someone leaves a comment or references my posts in conversation, I can pretend it's this private space all my own. No one is forced to read, and for all I know, few do. I may be absent from this space for weeks, but it just draws me back when I have a spare moment. Here's a limited glimpse of my life. And I couldn't imagine writing about teaching and knitting without focusing on experiences that meant so much more to me than those insignificant bits. So I shared. And I hoped that maybe it would make a difference. I hoped it would help in my healing. That maybe if I could put words to the experience, I would remember the time better, even if it meant recognizing how deeply we'd been wounded, how far we had to come from.

While not the first time some stranger has written me about sharing my story, someone contacted me on Ravelry this week, a knitter that had the misfortune of losing their premature daughter this spring due to pre-eclampsia and HELLP Syndrome (misfortune sounds like the worst word ever, so forgive me for not being able to select a better one). She said my words brought her comfort. She's very early in this period of grief, but it helped her to know that others had gone through the same diagnosis and yet followed that up with a healthy, typical pregnancy and a full-term baby. It gave her hope that there will still be a chance for them.

It's when I get a comment from someone who has been helped by my words that I feel like I have made a difference. In whatever small part, Katherine continues to influence people.

So, Katherine, had you lived, you would have turned 3 last Sunday. I would have loved to know what it was like to be a mother to you on this earth for more than a week, but I take comfort in knowing that you made an impact on my life, and because I was willing to share, even in the midst of the pain and hurt, I have helped others. People that have lost their own children. People that need to know one experience doesn't dictate their future and remove all chances for another child.

Today marks the day three years ago that we had to say goodbye. And it's hard to know best how to recognize this day. I wish it wasn't on our radar, but I am grateful for the ways your short life shaped mine. And I'm still working at it, trying to not keep my guard up, to not assume the worst. To let people in. To be vulnerable. So today, I'll live like I try to each and every other day. I'll draw alongside my husband who has walked beside me as we went through this dark journey. I'll hug and kiss and play with your little sister, think of the blessings you brought us, and pray for our continued healing and those who might be a little earlier on this journey. We have scars, but they're a little less raw today, and we're trying not to let them get the best of us. It wouldn't be fair to you and your memory if we were embittered, despondent people today because we were only fortunate to have six days with you. And by God's grace, I can say that we are not.

It seemed somehow fitting that this was the week someone wrote about the impact my story had on them. We're still seeing how we've been influenced by your life. And I can remember the early months of your loss, how we shut down and somehow made it from day to day. All the tears. The daily meals friends brought by. Returning to work. Physically healing first, then slowly the emotional and mental healing followed. The setbacks as we tried again, and the fear that accompanied the thought of a new pregnancy. Holding our breath as one more week passed without complications. And somehow our story was able to touch others and help them in their own grief and uncertainty. So however infrequently, I'm encouraged to keep returning to this space.

A Letter to My Daughter: 11 Months

2011-08-15T22:39:00.000-04:00

Daughter,

11 months!

I can hardly believe that it has been 11 months that you have been bringing joy to our lives! I suppose when you start out the first few months not sleeping more than a couple hours in a stretch, it's hard to properly catalog the changing days, but here we are.

This month, like many others, has brought about many changes. You spend a lot of your time crawling all around, and you're getting more confident pulling yourself up on things.

You also do this thing where you use your feet to spin yourself around in circles; Charity got a video of it during her time here.

Two of your aunts, and three of your cousins, stayed here few a few days this past month. You enjoyed the attention.

You spent a lot of time watching them playing, but before you know it, you'll be joining right in.

The cats are still a little wary of you, rightly so. The term "gentle" means little to nothing. At one point, you even grabbed Dante's face with both of your hands, squeezing away. He didn't retaliate, but he did beat a hasty retreat once I pried open your hands.

Speaking of that iron grip, my arms, face, and neck all bear evidence of little claw marks. You've even drawn blood on some occasions. Your dad took a series of pictures, and this is one of the only salvageable ones; the others have me trying to free my hair and skin from your grasp.

You continue to draw attention wherever you go. Even though you crawl, I brought you along when I was going to help paint the youth room. I set you down with toys, and then kept an eagle eye on you as I painted. You spent the first half of the time just watching all the activity around you, and the rest of the time happily holding various toys as you switched between playing and people-watching. Several volunteers commented you were amazing; they admitted their own children would have been in the paint or would have been off exploring from the get-go.

"I'm fond of some of the knit toys my mommy made me"

We went out to brunch one morning, and while we were waiting to be seated, you took a fancy to one of the other parties waiting to be seated. In particular, you were fixated on the guy from Central or South America. He, in turn, was quite taken with you. After a few minutes of this behavior, he finally asked if he could hold you (while an unusual request from a stranger, we let him ever so briefly). He was later seated in your line of vision, and this picture below is of you, still drawn to him from a distance of 15 feet.

When out for another meal, our server was even possessed to drop a kiss on your head before the end of the meal; it's hard to resist a baby being so adorable and well-behaved! There was even one occasion a few months back, when we were in Illinois to meet up with your paternal grandparents, that an older woman in a hotel lobby asked to take a picture of you. These requests catch me off guard, but I acquiesced in this case; I don't know why she wanted a picture of you, but I doubted we'd ever cross paths again and if it brought her some measure of happiness, I was fine indulging.

"I pulled these from the diaper bag while Mom watched. And I even got the container open!"

Your eating habits have improved. You eat three meals a day. While you'd be more than delighted if you could subsist on sweet potatoes and cheerios alone, you are still willing to expand your horizons. Other than some puffs and dry cereal that you happily feed yourself, you're still on pureed foods that we feed you (you still haven't mastered chewing, even with five teeth). And whenever you'd grab for the spoon, it was only to finger-paint with the contents. Today, though, there was a breakthrough - you used a spoon to eat the last half of your lunch! We weren't able to recreate this at dinnertime, but I suspect you were too distracted feeding yourself black beans to be bothered with taking over the pureed feeding as well.

Sleep has been wonderful. Bedtime is 7:45 PM, and you typically wake up around 7 AM (sometimes with one wake-up in the middle of the night). You take two naps a day, averaging about 75 minutes each. And you're pretty adept at putting yourself down. I'm so glad you're a sound sleeper. Our new neighbor has a small yappy dog that seems to be let out all hours of the day or night, and there's also a motorcycle revving up as it comes and goes. Seeing as that driveway is right outside your nursery, it's important you can sleep through the noise. Otherwise, we'd be up a dozen times or more trying to lull you back down (it's bad enough that these things wake me up, but I can drift off again).

You love to curl up in a little ball in the crib. You wander all over, from the top corners to the bottom ones out of sight, but the one consistent feature is you on your stomach and near one of the edges, balled up tight.

You have a shoe fetish. You crawl to the door and rearrange all the shoes behind you. You sometimes even collect them in your basket.

You are very inquisitive. If you aren't emptying your diaper bag, trying to see if you can reach the cat fountain before we catch you, or - our least favorite - curious about outlets (quickly secured with safety plugs), you're trying to see what we're doing to figure out how you can get involved. Here I gave you a ball of yarn, and you were so happy with it! This is scary for mommy to see, since that means I have to guard not only against the cats, but against you as well. My yarn is no longer safe...

In line with your curiosity, you love bubbles. You and Dante try to see who can pop the most. However, it's only a matter of time before you're distracted by the bottle of suds, trying to crawl over me to get your hands on it. That's the signal bubble time is over.

Until you get distracted, though, it's a lot of fun to watch your eyes go wide and your hands flail as bubbles surround you.

While we were late to make the transition, you now take your baths in the tub. We'd been slow to end the sink time since our bathroom is cramped, but we took the doors off the tub, which means it's now much easier to get you in and out and allows us to be easily in reach of you, no matter where you scoot to.


"I can twist my tongue sideways - not even Daddy can do that!"

Anyway, it's been a full month (and I'm glad my sisters shared their pictures with me!). You are growing by leaps and bounds, and your personality is emerging even more. I suspect you'll be on your feet even more in the coming month, but, um, feel free to leave the cat fountain alone. Trust me, baths and pools are way more fun to splash around in.

Love,
Mommy

Letter: 30 Things in Honor of Turning 30

2011-07-18T07:10:00.000-04:00

Eric,

You don't turn thirty every day, so in honor of your 30th birthday, I thought I would let you know of 30 things I love about you. Some are serious, some are flippant, but all are aspects that make you who you are and make me lucky to be with you. So enjoy (but don't get all big-headed on me). No one else may be interested, but I wanted to share with the world how blessed I am to be with you.

You are well-rounded. Here you are, a graduate student in a very intellectual field, and yet you can geek out on your online forums or play video games. I'm glad you're not all one or the other.
You weren't afraid to leave your career to pursue your passion. I know it was hard to allow yourself to pursue further education when you had a steady, good-paying job, especially with a wife and with the potential for family in the not-too-distant future, but it wasn't what excited you, and I love that you knew that about yourself and pushed onward. I suspect you're more fun to live with because of it, even if you're the one leaving stacks of books around and the one with evening and weekend commitments.
You and I are a team. Be it marriage or parenthood, we're in this together as equals.
You aren't afraid to step in when I'm being irrational. Recently, I've learned I need you to temper me. For some reason, ingrained deep (likely due to our culture), is the duty I feel to handle most things baby-related. But you'll sometimes realize you need to step in and take over in the evenings, especially if the only reason I can give is that I "ought" to be the one to do X.
You value my time. Now that I'm not the one with work that follows me home, I feel like whenever B is awake and we're both around, I should be the one to tend to her, even if you're just relaxing by reading or playing games (see #4). But I love that you'll sometimes tell me to stay put -- or take over for a couple hours during a weeknight or weekend -- so that I can have a choice to do whatever I'd like. It's hard for me to see my time outside of work as important as yours, so I need you to remind me of this.
You change diapers. Before B was born, you'd never touched one, so I think you'll understand my surprise when you declared, "You take care of one end, I'll take care of the other." I thought you might falter on your commitment after a week or two, but now, with our daughter ten months old, you are still going strong. I only change a diaper when you’re not home or the rare occasion where you’re occupied (and those I can maybe count on one hand -- okay, maybe two).
You are an amazing father. I love watching the joy in your eyes as you interact with our daughter. She is lucky to have you in her life. You take such pride in her and I know you will be a constant encourager and positive presence.
You are not afraid to show your emotions. Losing Katherine was devastating for us, and we both shut down from the world for about a year, but I always knew the two of us could share what we were experiencing. I knew I wasn't the only one grieving and it meant a lot to know you didn't keep me at a distance.
You're not afraid of housework. Maybe it’s due to living on your own in college, but I love that you don’t blink an eye at unloading the dishwasher or doing the majority of the laundry. Even (*gasp*) the cloth diapers.
You entertain my hair-brained ideas. I was sure you might think I'd gone a little hippie with wanting to cloth diaper, compost, and make my own baby food, but you're right there alongside me.
You are humble. Here you are, on the home stretch of a PhD, having been a National Merit Scholar, acing your GRE (and I could go on…), yet you don’t even think to lord it over others. You are aware it comes easily to you, and yet you’re quick to realize others’ strengths, especially in areas where you don’t excel.
You are well read. I love that I might have heard something in passing on the radio, or come across a snippet of a story, and if I want to know more, my first stop is often asking you what you know about it.
You're a great companion during car trips. Perhaps it’s due to the lack of internet, TV, and other distractions, but we’ve had some great conversations during long car trips. I even like reading aloud to you (even if it does eliminate any knitting time!), which is a newer pastime.
You celebrate my accomplishments. I like to create things, be it with thread, yarn, or otherwise, and while you don’t have the same desire, you understand what it means to me. Heck, you’ll even humor my questions: “What color combination do you like best?" (although you hate that one), or "Of these two patterns, which is your favorite?”
You can still surprise me. Maybe it means I think too little of you, but I am still surprised you wear the socks I knit you (or, rather, knit for myself, but they ended up too large for my feet and were just perfect for yours). You’re such a creature of habit when it comes to things, and being that they weren’t made of cotton and sold by Hanes, I was sure they’d be unused. I was touched you wore them on wet, cold days after learning how well they kept you warm. I guess you must be knit-worthy, since it warranted a second pair. If only I could get up the courage to knit you a sweater…
We are still best friends. You're the first one I want to share news with or talk to about what's going on. I was a little nervous about this (one of the reasons it took me a while to come around to the idea of dating my best friend), but I needn't have been.
You make me laugh. I'm a tough crowd -- I might be amused at something and crack a smile, but audible laughs aren't a given. But I love that you can surprise me and make me laugh.
You think I'm funny. I love when you nearly hyperventilate after something I've said. Most recently, I remember you dying after I tried to connect the giving of raspberries as being founded in Scripture.
You still think I'm beautiful. No matter my weight or the number of my stretchmarks, you are constantly telling me you find me beautiful.
I love the one-liners we've accrued over the years, little phrases that make us laugh, things often privy to the two of us. "You know, now that you mention it, I had the windows open and I heard Beau on his phone saying something about a place in Indy..." or "I'm NEVER going to fall aslee..." and let's not forget about, "Gosh! How can we be out of glasses!"
You play dirty in an attempt to win our pretend arguments. All this serves to do is make me fuss that you're cheating by using logic or philosophical terms I'm not skilled in understanding. And if you ever turn serious about "winning" with your philosophy prowess, that fake argument will escalate into me being royally annoyed. You have been warned.
You are quick to serve. You often are the first to ask if there's anything you can get for our guests, thinking of their needs. You'll ask what you can do for me if you're fetching something for yourself. And while I still cringe at allowing myself to be dependent on you, and I wonder if this instance of asking for a favor will be the time you say you aren't willing to help, you haven't let me down yet. This was *awesome* during my pregnancy when I would hit those tired spells.
You have a great relationship with your parents. You show your love and respect for them and what they've done for you. This is a great example for our daughter.
You have great parents. Now I realize this isn't something you had any control over, but they've shaped who you've become, and I am so blessed to have them as in-laws. I like spending time with them, and they've never made me feel like I wasn't good enough for you.
You keep up with the "invisible" chores. These are those things that you regularly do that don't often get noticed: filling the cars up with gas, taking out trash, doing laundry, taking compost and recycling out. These can get thankless quickly - somehow my closet is stocked with clean clothes (or at least the bed is), my car is regularly serviced, the trash can is never overflowing. And I don't always recognize that you're doing these tasks because you're so efficient.
You don't hold my faults against me. Like that time I took over driving to Iowa this summer, and after waking up from a nap, you asked me, "So, just out of curiosity, what's our gas situation like?" Only then did I realize the gas light was on, and I had no clue how long it had been lit. Fortunately, the situation turned out okay (although our nerves were tested when we ran into THREE gas stations in a row that were closed down), but you didn't berate me for not noticing the light. My spirits are pretty tender and are easily wounded by censure, so I appreciate that you're not quick to hold my weaknesses against me.
You are a great steward of our money. We are living on much less now than in Minnesota, but you are diligent about how we save and spend our money. I realize with me working less, things will be even tighter and we may be drawing down our savings, but because you have been faithful with our money, there is savings there to pull from.
You are somewhat willing to introduce your taste buds to new culinary items. When we first met, there were plenty of foods you'd never had given your limited preferences, and I realized when we married this could get tricky if I didn't want to live on bologna and Hamburger Helper. However, you eat more things now than you did then, and you'll still give something a try if I think there's a chance you might like it.
You're taller than I am. What can I say? You may not tower over me, but I love that I have to look up to you.
You are a godly husband. I love how you use your faith to shape what you do and how it influences every facet of your life.

Happy birthday. Thank you for wanting to live life with me.

Love,
Your wife

A Letter to My Daughter: Ten Months Old

2011-07-15T22:56:00.000-04:00

Ten-month picture

Dear daughter,

You are now ten months.

In the last month, you enjoyed a trip home to see family. There's something about your grandma's house that makes you sleep spectacularly (and we love you for that). We had you sleep upstairs, and Grandma kept the monitor for us, so we slept soundly those days. I would stir sometime after you woke up for the day, once you started to be more vocal in your playing. Maybe when you're having trouble sleeping through the night, it's time to see her again?

You currently wear 12-month clothes, but you also have a fair number of outfits in 18-month (and larger...) sizes in regular rotation. Here's a picture of you in 24-month pajamas. They don't look as baggy as I'd wish.

The one exception is your lucky ISU sleeper. This past football season, whenever you wore it the day of an ISU game, they won; there were a handful of games that when you wore it, they even won games they shouldn't have. Your uncle, who had given it to you, started texting on game days to make sure you were wearing it. One day you were napping when the game started (this was the Nebraska game). I put it on you when you woke up, and the Cyclones were able to tie up the game. However, we blame their OT loss to the fact that you didn't have it on for the entirety of the game; had you, they might have been able to get a win during regulation. ;) Anyway, the sleeper is purportedly a 0-3 month size, but seeing as how it still fits you, it either possesses magical growing properties, or it was mislabeled.

At yesterday's appointment, you weighed 20 1/2 pounds and were 29 inches tall. Those were in the 60th percentile or so, but your head, at 18 inches, was the one at the upper end of the charts. This explains why it's suddenly tricky to get t-shirts over that noggin.

You have three teeth now; your first top one started coming in this past month.

Teething on watermelon - I'm not exactly sure what you thought of it

Developmentally, you've mastered a couple new tricks. The first is getting to a seating position on your own (since you were five months, you've been sitting on your own only if we started you in that position). Now, though, you're adept at scooting up to a seated position. The downside of this, however, is that in the early days, you would wake yourself up. It would have been funny if you didn't look quite so pathetic. You'd be sleeping on your tummy and in your sleep push up into a seated position. Doing so would wake you up and you'd start fussing because you were upset to be awake when you were so tired. Naps were shortened and we all slept horribly as you did this for a few days. I've heard it is common for sleep to be disturbed as you learn new skills, so I'm prepared for this same thing to happen as you master crawling and walking.

In the process of pushing yourself up

You still don't crawl, but we see you get to your knees (one leg is still at a weird angle, so until you get it behind you, you're not going anywhere). You can still scoot, but only in reverse, which brings back memories of the stories my parents told about me crawling only in reverse for the first week I was mobile, and how they were constantly having to retrieve me when I'd get stuck under furniture. You can also lunge for things, so between that and scooting, you're somewhat mobile. You LOVE pulling yourself up to a standing position by grabbing our fingers. Fortunately for us you haven't realized that you could substitute chairs and tables for our fingers. Go ahead and take your time figuring that out.

When it comes to feeding habits, there has been a huge transformation. You barely tolerated food before, only eating small portions, but now you're up to three feedings a day (not meals). Breakfast might consist of some rice cereal with a fruit puree, lunch right now is a baby food jar holding an infinitesimal portion of meat disguised with vegetables, and dinner is typically more vegetables. We give you Cheerios, but you treat them as toys (and as cat treats, which Augustine thanks you for). In the last week, though, I've caught you gumming on cheerios, and you actually put a rice wafer in your mouth without my help - I was lucky to catch it on camera. You don't "chew," which is why we're still in the puree stage, but since the interest is there, I can actually see an end in sight. Until then, though, it's been fun making and freezing baby food purees (excluding the "meat" jars). I'm just glad you're catching on; I was half wondering if I'd be packing up pureed food for you to take to college (okay, not seriously to this extreme, but I was concerned this food thing would be slow in taking off). We still need to work more on figuring out the sippy cup, but that should come in time.

Actual food going in the mouth!

You're still the consummate flirt. I cannot believe how much you open up to strangers, and they, in turn, to you.

Your flirty face captured on camera

You love "buzzing" your lips now. It makes me just want to kiss you whenever you do this - I find it so funny and adorable.

This week also brought about your first diaper rash; you were especially miserable for about 24 hours, but it's already nearly gone, so I'm glad we have our happy daughter back.

Typically you still put yourself down for naps (although this is less a given at bedtime). You are typically down to two naps a day; on days where the morning nap is a short 30 - 45 minutes and the afternoon nap is 90 minutes - 2 hours, I can envision the morning nap disappearing before too long. I remember when your naps were all 30 minutes long, so it's nice to see them consolidating into one or two longer naps. Keep it up!

Before my eyes, you're transforming from a baby into a little girl - I'm not quite ready to admit you'll be one year in two short months, but I love watching you grow each day.

Love,
Mommy

A Letter to My Daughter: Nine Months Old

2011-06-15T20:48:00.068-04:00

Your 9-month picture with Giraffe

Dear daughter,

Today you are nine months old. You are bright-eyed and love to watch the world around you, although I'm continually amused at how you'll suddenly duck your head down and grin bashfully when you're showered with compliments by others. You'll flirt and laugh, and then duck down like you're so coy. Very adorable, but I'm not sure I'm buying your shyness!

Whenever we're around the high-school students, I rarely get to hold you anymore unless it's time to eat or sleep (and even then, it might be a fight to regain possession of you!). This past weekend you and I attended an open house, and you were whisked from my car before I could even finish parking. In the span of an hour, every time I turned around you were with someone else. The hostess had you when she left the backyard, and when she came out of the house five minutes later, it was with another child. I was constantly chasing people around to find out where you were next and who had laid claim to you. Fortunately for them, you aren't yet showing signs of stranger anxiety, so you took it all in stride.

Previously, you only rolled over from tummy to back, but you regularly roll over from back to tummy as well. This was initially accomplished in the crib at naptime if you were fighting sleep. You'd get yourself in the most interesting arrangements as you staved off sleep - diagonally, sideways, against one side. You love to sleep on your stomach or side now, even if we put you on your back to start with.

You now have a regular babysitter. One day a week, while I am at work, one of my high-school girls comes and watches you for a few hours so Daddy can get in some extra writing time on campus. She's someone you've seen regularly from birth, and other than fighting naptime your first day with her, you seem to enjoy this change of pace. Of course, this is only a temporary arrangement, since she goes to college in early August, but we'll enjoy it while it lasts.

This summer has brought about new opportunities for our daily routines. We've hung up the tree swing your paternal grandparents gave you, and we purchased a small pool for you to splash around in. Add in walks in the stroller and sitting on a blanket in the grass, and there's a slew of new activities to engage in when the weather cooperates.

You love both the swing and its straps

You enjoy the baby pool much more than your introduction to a hotel pool. Admittedly, it was a little past your bedtime and the water was a little cooler than you're used to, so we shouldn't have been surprised when you were uncertain and then broke into tears until we removed you.

A little worried about this swimming thing, while showing off your strong legs

There's still no crawling yet (although there was a little "reverse army-crawling" action that took place on our wood floors this morning), but you can migrate around the floor to some degree of success from your seated position. You lunge for things out of reach and thus get closer and can easily turn around. You particularly love the challenge of reaching the diaper bag or your baby shoes (the latter to chew on - eww).

Favorite toys run the gamut. You still love Sophie, but then there are strange attachments you have to other objects that we don't completely understand. There are three "envelopes" - thin, hard plastic pieces from your mailbox toy - that you are enamored with. They don't make noise, they don't bend, but they do boast texture and apparently happen to be the perfect size to grip. Your grandparents also gave you a spoon, plate, and bowl. While trying to distract you from playing with your clean clothes while I was trying to put them away, I gave you those objects, and you still adore playing with them (especially the spoon). They make this delightful banging sound when you slam them against each other, so there's no question as to why you're drawn to them.

"I can sing while drumming!"

The jury is still out on food. You have made no attempts to feed yourself, but we're having more predictable success with spoon-feeding you. You are ambivalent on just about everything, although I'm not sure you really enjoyed the baked potato. But sweet potatoes, apples, bananas, blueberries, asparagus, and a few more I may be forgetting - all have been found acceptable.

Asparagus was pretty popular

You continue to grow. We don't have another appointment for a few more weeks, but you were over 20 pounds and nearly 29 inches at your last checkup. You're solidly in 12-month clothes, but even some of those are getting snug (this is true primarily of pants, due to the extra padding lent to you by your cloth diapers). In fact, your hand-me-down 12-month swimsuit was pretty snug, so we bought a 24-month size for you. I'm shocked to admit that it's not as roomy as I was expecting.

Why settle for one duck when you can hold two? Indeed.

There's a saying that resonates with me: The days are long but the years are short. Along with reminding myself that someday I will miss this, I try to keep this thought in mind. Here we are, already having enjoyed nine months of life with you, and I don't know where the time has gone. Typically, it's been a blessed time filled with new discoveries, cuddles, and kisses. But then there are moments when there are more tears than smiles. Or I really wanted to vacuum during your nap but you needed to be rocked and held. Maybe I had a to-do list that I wanted to accomplish but it was 11 PM before I realized I forgot to empty the litterbox and never got to clean the kitchen or run that errand. When my expectations aren't met, when my house isn't as tidy as I'd hoped or wanted, I just have to remind myself that when you're older I will not regret the sticky countertops or the unmade bed, but I will wish I could take back the time I could have savored the opportunity to snuggle with you when you were feeling clingy but instead grew internally frustrated when I couldn't transition you to the crib although I was hungry for lunch. When you're running off with friends and enjoying moments with them more than time with your parents, I will wish I hadn't wasted time surreptitiously checking my email or Facebook during a free moment while you played nearby. When you're older, I will have ample opportunity to read, craft, even clean, but these moments with you are all too precious. So I am continually trying to invest in you, read with you, sing with you. It's a continual challenge, but writing this here reminds me of where my priorities should be.

Playing train mechanic with her trusty spoon (and knit chicken)

Darling, thank you for all you have taught me already, and all you will continue to do so. May your dad and I be worthy of you.

Love,
Mommy

Dante v. The World

2011-05-28T11:13:00.000-04:00

Dante and Augustine in happier times

Judge: Court is now resumed. Dante, do you mind continuing your account of what transpired the morning of Friday, May 27th?

Dante: Yeah. So, you know I love to go outside on the back porch in the mornings, but normally I have to beg and whine a little. However, yesterday when the male slave opened the door without any prompting, I didn't think anything of it, I was just celebrating my good fortune! Augustine trailed out behind me, ~~because I never give her opportunity to go first, instead seeing everything in life as a competition and shoving her aside or jumping over her, whatever is necessarity to win~~ as befits her station, and after just a second or two, she started whining at the door. The male slave opened the door for her after a brief moment, and she scampered inside.

Judge: And what were you doing in this time?

Dante: Doing my part of the backyard watch, making sure the squirrels and birds knew their place. There may have been some tail twitching, some guttural noises, some frantic pacing. You know, the usual.

Judge: Continue.

Dante: So, I noticed after a few minutes the male slave opened the door again to see if I wanted to come in, but seriously, who would protect our backyard if I wasn't there?! My shift wasn't over, and I refused to slack off, like one other cat I know (*cough* Augustine! *cough*). And it's not like the male slave tried very hard. Now that I think about it, I think he only opened the door a sliver, and even had I wanted to end my shift early, I'm not convinced I had any chance to actually cross the porch and get through the opening before he shut it again without some crazy awesome ninja skills. Yeah, he's definitely in on this.

Judge: Let's avoid empty speculations.

Dante: So, finally, I figured it was probably time ~~to chase Augustine~~ for me to make my rounds of the house, and I ambled inside the next time the door was opened. And this is when it got ugly. Immediately I knew something was wrong.

Judge: Proceed.

Dante: So I entered the kitchen, and there was a smell of tuna in the air. TUNA! I love that stuff! I'm not even sure I heard a can opener, so nefarious forces must have been at work to keep me in the dark. Fat chance of that! I sniffed and scoured the floor, but I couldn't find anything. So, anyway, it was clear there had been a dish...or two...on the floor with the beloved tuna water quite recently. But not anymore.

Judge: Tuna water? Can you elaborate on that?

Dante: Sure. Well, the female slave sometimes gets out a tuna can. She hasn't realized it's only for feline consumption (as if!), but as she drains the water into two little cat dishes, even sometimes letting actual tuna chunks in the mixture, I usually let that slide. So, when all is right with the world, she sets those two dishes down. Now, I admit that usually Augustine is the first to spot this bounty, but through no fault of my own. She's just not keeping up with her kitty guard duties, so she's more likely to react in her lazy state.

Anyway, usually her speed alerts me that something's going down, and I join her. She tries to pick a bowl of her own, but it's up to me to see that she's chosen wisely. Usually she hasn't, so I shoo her away from the first bowl. And then I realize ~~she might have tried to pull the wool over my eyes~~ I forgot to do quality control on the second bowl, so I have to shoo her away from that one as well. Once I've established that both bowls are safe -- and it usually takes a couple passes back and forth, because safety is job one and I take it quite seriously -- I let Augustine know which one is hers based on whichever bowl ~~has the least remaining~~ is the least likely to be contaminated, and then we settle in with our lapping race. I usually finish first, and then it's my duty to help Augustine finish. You know, so she doesn't get a tummy ache. She's advanced enough in age that...

Judge: Hold on a moment. [Papers ruffle] My records show she's only about a year or so older than you. Is this correct?

Dante: Exactly. As I was saying, in her infirmity, she should watch what she eats -- and how quickly -- and that's where I step in and help her finish.

Judge: So, yesterday you thought you smelled tuna in the air. What happened then?

Dante: Well, I didn't see any bowls with the evidence, but I bet if my slaves would have let me jump on the counter, I would have found them in the sink. But they looked as if nothing was out of sorts, although they were quite attentive to my actions, more so than usual, which should have tipped me off that they didn't have my best interests at heart. In fact, I've lost track of how many times the male slave has catered to Augustine, telling her how sweet she is, how pretty, how "good," and then he has the nerve to hold her up as an example to me, telling me I should be more like her. I'm so misunderstood in my own house!

Judge: You're off track, again. Please stick to the account of yesterday's events with minimal tangents.

Dante: So I went to Augustine.

Judge: Describe her, please.

Dante: Well, that good-for-nothing cat, she thinks she's all that, was sitting primly in the living room on the rug. She tried to look all innocent as I approached, like I'm dumb or something. And just because I'm polydactyl and there happens to be some anecdotal evidence -- planted, I'm confident of that, because anyone can edit Wikipedia, you know, and there are wrong things on the internet--

Judge: What did I saw about indulging in these unnecessary tangents?

Dante: Fine. Some individuals claim that cats with such traits happen to be a little slow on the uptake -- liars! -- they all think I won't notice. But my olfactory senses are beyond belief, I tell you!

Judge: Let's rein it in. Return to the point of the story where you approached Augustine yesterday.

Dante: [Grumbling and muttering under his breath about well-planted hairballs for a moment before composing himself] Seriously, this is an outrage; don't you want to know all the facts?! Whatever. So I approach her, and you know what happens? I sniff her breath, and anyone want to hazard a guess of what I smelled?! TUNA! On her breath! There are only a few ways that could happen. First, she could have a tuna fish that she's slowly licking to death. But I ruled that out. Because, seriously, where would she hide it? I know everything about our dwellings and all her hiding spots. So unless she found the elusive "second basement" I've heard in legend, there's no tuna fish she's keeping to herself. So I moved onto my second guess: that she hadn't cleaned since the last time we had glorious tuna water. But as I thought about that, I smelled my breath, and there was no tuna. Let me tell you, Augustine has this weird thing about being cleanly. After all, when I was brought into this abode, she had the nerve to imply that I was a mangy, ugly feline and needed a little help in the hygiene department. So if anyone was going to have residual tuna water breath, it was going to be me. And I didn't. My third guess was that my pending patent for a tuna-flavored breath spray had made it to market. But last I'd heard, it was held up in development as they tried to figure out how we could operate it without opposable thumbs (and, um, there's also some difficulty creating a container safe for consumption, since the test subjects keep trying to eat the cat spray once they catch a whiff). So I moved onto another thought, the most evil, darkest, and convicting of all. There had been tuna water set out for us, and she had drank not just one bowl, but BOTH bowls.

Judge: Did you confront her?

Dante: Why, yes, I did. I got up in her face, asking whether she had just had a treat in the form of tuna water goodness. And you know what she had the nerve to do?!

Judge: We're all waiting on pins and needles for your account, I assure you.

Dante: She LICKED her face! In front of me! She was taunting me, right there, her tongue licking her non-existent lips. It makes me crazy! Like I had this coming to me or something! Oh, boy, she better watch her back! Why, the next time we...

Judge: I think I've heard enough. We'll take a ten-minute recess, and I will relay my decision when we reconvene. And before then, I suggest you think long and hard about what has been shared here and conduct yourselves in a manner befitting these solemn proceedings, or I won't hesitate to throw this case out. We're adjourned.

A Letter to My Daughter: Eight Months Old

2011-05-16T22:58:00.000-04:00

Dear B,

Your 8-month picture with the Giraffe

Yesterday you reached 8 months (I seriously have every intention of penning these on the actual date, but sometimes life has other plans). Anyway, there have been some big developments in the last month.

Physically, your eyes, which started out blue, now resemble more of a gray color, and when I look closely, I see flecks of gold, so I think they will end up being brown before long.

Your second tooth has popped out, and the merest point of it can be seen next to your first bottom tooth. You're still pretty ambivalent about food, but you have become quite the kisser. This consists of you pressing your opened mouth against our faces - quite messy, yet worth every slobbery streak.

Slobbery kisses in action

We're constantly entertained by what you do with your hands. Sometimes you fold them primly in your lap, and other times, they're outstretched and doing a series of interesting movements, starting with the palms up, then being turned around gracefully. The best thing I can liken it to is a Hawaiian hula dance. I'm sure you're just fascinated by what you can make your arms do, but it's quite amusing to watch them rotate.

Enjoying the warmer weather outside

You're still not mobile in the strictest definition of crawling/scooting/walking, but you can rotate yourself around from your seated position, and when you're on your back (but not so much your stomach), if we apply resistance for your feet to push against, you will impress us by mimicking a worm's movements.

Opening your Easter basket

We often fall into the habit of rocking you to sleep when you're teething and need some extra comforting, and then we forget we don't need to keep doing it once you're past the painful bout. This month found us trying to break ourselves of that habit. It's funny - I think you actually prefer to put yourself down sometimes. We might be trying to rock you and it appears you're fighting it as you squirm and kick, but if we then set you in your crib, you happily settle. There's a special little stuffed kitty (a gift from Grandpa Claire) we often give you, and you will hold it and coo to it until you drop off. Once in a while you fight putting yourself down so we rock you to sleep, but that's the exception rather than the norm now. This makes me feel like there's more time to the day; you might spend 5-10 minutes playing with your kitty in bed, and then you take your nap, which tends to be at least 30 minutes. And an added bonus - now that you're putting yourself to sleep, it appears you take better (and longer) naps. Lately, your first nap of the day is around 75 - 90 minutes, which was unheard of before. And now you are starting to take a slightly longer afternoon nap, too, perhaps another 75-90 minutes, which has been a welcome treat. Instead of four naps a day, we appear to have reached a point where you average about 3 naps. These longer naps give your daddy time to catch up on work or mommy a chance to sew, clean the litter boxes, etc. We do adore time spent snuggling with you, but I can't complain about the opportunity to get a bite to eat or use the restroom instead of wondering when you might wake up so we can tend to those needs (during some naps you insisted on being held or else you'd wake up when we tried to transition you). It's good for your introverted parents to have brief solo times in between tending to you. It makes us better parents and more ready to introduce the world to you through play or walks.

Some of your wonder captured

You go back and forth with sleeping through the night. Sometimes you'll sleep through until 6:30, and other times you're up at 4 (or last night, it was 1 AM - ouch!). Actually, this is another change we've experienced in the last month. We used to wake you before we went to bed to feed you one last time, and this sometimes helped you sleep straight through. However, in another example of your parents being slow to pick up on your cues, we finally acknowledged that you were big enough to sleep through and had stopped appreciating being disturbed for one more meal; additionally, you seemed to wake at the same times, whether or not we'd fed you around 11 PM. So we phased those out, choosing only to feed you if you woke on your own. The first couple days you were conditioned to waking up then to be fed, so you'd sometimes get up as you heard us preparing for bed, but now, you fall asleep somewhere between 7:45 and 9 PM (depending on when your last nap was, how well you've slept that day, or whether we had evening commitments that you tagged along to) and wake up for the day around 7 AM, give or take. Again, there's sometimes a brief wake-up that occurs around 4 AM, but we all seem to be happy with this arrangement. Now if only Mommy and Daddy would go to bed earlier, we'd feel well rested. Unfortunately, we night owls are slow learners.

This past month also held Mother's Day. I have to admit that it was nice to have you around for that day. The past few Mother's Days have been bittersweet. Some people told me I was still a mother even though my arms were empty, but it was a hard day all the same, symbolizing what was all too short for us. I remember the first Mother's Day after we lost Katherine; our high school group decided to give flowers to all the moms, and I was touched that they remembered me (apparently in the planning session, one girl specifically said, "What about Faith? We're including her, right?"). It was emotional, but I appreciated that our daughter was still remembered by these students. This year, while I wished I could have celebrated with both my daughters at my side, I was reminded of how blessed I am to get to be a mother to you every day.

Our church holds a child dedication every year on Mother's Day, and we chose to have you dedicated publicly. It was a simple ceremony, but it was meaningful to be a part of. You'll have to pardon the picture, as the sanctuary was dimly lit. In actuality, such a ceremony won't change how we raise you, but it's a recognition of how we want to raise you, and it's an opportunity to acknowledge this in front of others. It also allowed us to admit that we want our lives to be centered around pursuing God and loving others in all we do and we aim to raise you in kind, however imperfectly. We trust our lives and actions will be a testimony for you to witness and hopefully embrace and we acknowledge that you are a gift and we are entrusted with your life.

Listening to the pastor

One of my favorite memories of this last month took place when you and I went to Panera to meet for coffee with one of my high school girls. The weather was so beautiful so we sat outside, you in a high chair. For starters, your heart sunglasses, a gift from your paternal grandparents, were quite the hit. Honestly, I think everyone (male, female, young, old) fawned over you as they came and went. But that wasn't the memorable part.

"These glasses get me so much attention!"

What brought me joy was when you felt the breeze on your face - you doubled over in laughter, and it was so contagious and just wouldn't end. It was the most sustained laughing I'd heard from you yet, and it was so absolutely precious. I wished several times I had my camera on me so I could have taken a video. You're now starting to laugh on your own with little prompting. Just tonight, you were giggling (kind of in a fake, forced way, though) as you buried your face into a pillow and smiled coyly at me; I think it's a sign of you developing the ability to laugh socially.

No matter where we go, people are constantly telling us how beautiful you are, and we can't help but agree. We are so struck with your perfect features, although I joke that we'll have to ban such talk around you in a year or two so you don't become vain.

But let's ignore the superficial characteristics. I just want you to know what a joy it it to be a mother to you. You are such a darling and I can't imagine how things could be improved any more - we have such an easy time being parents to you. You are mellow and entertain yourself with solo play. You are curious about the world around you. You don't fuss; other parents are surprised after observing you, and they insist that you certainly can't be like this all the time, but you really are. Sure, a teething bout here or there, or some passing annoyance if we take away something prematurely. In every area, though, you are so perfect. Your personality is a welcome complement to ours and your presence in our lives adds so much.

The biggest adjustment has been figuring out how we retain ourselves while caring for you. We weren't under any pretense when you were born; we knew it was a big transition to parenthood, and it does take much of our attention. But we still strive to hold onto our original activities when possible (volunteering with the high school group, my knitting night, even our hobbies to some extent), and while it's an evolving experiment, I think we've settled into something comfortable.

Love,
Mommy

A Letter to My Daughter: Seven Months Old

2011-04-16T11:57:00.012-04:00

Dear daughter,

Today you are seven months old. It’s mind-boggling to me that you are now closer to your first birthday than to the day you were born; I know time keeps marching on, but I’m constantly struck with how quickly you’re growing, especially as I see close friends welcome babies. I see their newborn pictures and know you were at that stage not too long ago, but I see you now and you are so vibrant and interactive.

You rarely spit up now, which is a welcome change from the days of constantly carrying a burp cloth around; I feared you were getting attached to those things, and while they’d be easy to have duplicates of, they sure aren’t as pretty as other blankets you’ve been given!

We introduced you to rice cereal a month ago. The first week was interesting – you didn’t know why we were trying to put something in your mouth, so it was amusing to witness us try to get you to sample it. Dad would try to get you to smile, and I’d slip the spoon in. You’d get this confused look on your face as you sampled food. Now you know how to open your mouth and slurp off the spoon, but your tongue pushes just as much food back out as down your throat. I know this reflex decreases with age, so we’ll just keep at it. Your indifference to food now will change before long. However, I’m not surprised at your apathy, as you are not orally fixated; unless you’re teething, nothing goes in your mouth.

You are so attentive to the world around you, watching everything and everyone raptly. I think you’re starting to wave – we’ve noticed you lifting an arm up around new people and flexing your fingers. You're now in your convertible carseat, and you will keep a keen eye out the windows, taking in the world. When we're in public, you might grip a toy, but it has none of your interest; instead, you watch the waitress and patrons at the restaurant, or the shoppers and merchandise in the stores.

You love to grip things, and you're adept at passing them from one hand to another, picking them up from the ground, and not letting go for anything! Your paternal grandparents came out for a visit, and Grandma was quite impressed at how well you held things. You're starting to show interest in my water bottles and Daddy's glasses of tea, which makes me think we should introduce you to a sippy cup soon.

Daddy loves to read the paper in the morning, and anymore he's taken to "sharing" a section of it with you; you're a fan of grabbing paper and we're amused at how it looks like you're reading. We ordered some takeout Chinese, and you got ahold of the menu as if you were trying to make your selections known.

This past month also marked your first plane trip. Your daddy had a conference in the Twin Cities, and since we used to live there, I tagged along to introduce you to old friends. We couldn't have asked for a better companion. I felt like Super Mom after the first flight! We woke you up just before 6 AM to transfer you to the car. You were interested in everything around you and tried to flirt with anyone who made eye contact. Once we boarded, we fed you during takeoff, you played a little, and then you fell asleep in the Snugli with no trouble and no noise. Teething hit you full force while we were away, though, making for some early mornings, and you weren't as happy during the days as we're used to (still few to no tears, but you made this angsty noise as a soundtrack to your playing). However, you fared well on our return flights - we were supposed to have a direct flight, but that one was diverted into Detroit after our airport shut down to attend to a small plane crash (the pilot of the small plane was extracted and hospitalized after a strong crosswind blew the airplane off the runway upon landing). You were pretty talkative on this one - your mouth was hurting - but I think Daddy and I were the only ones who noticed, as everyone else was grinning at you throughout and commenting afterwards on how great a traveler you were. And once we were able to finally get back home on that final flight, you fell asleep during the taxi and didn't wake up until we landed.

Another big milestone: your first tooth is here! It's above your gums, although it has a bit more popping out to do before it's done. This has meant your sleeping has been interrupted again, but you seem to be over the pain of this tooth and in a reprieve until the next one comes, meaning you've been sleeping in until 6 AM.

You are so great at entertaining yourself. As long as you can see us, you don't care what we're doing or if you're being held. You happily grab at toys, look closely at them, manipulate them, then trade them for something else nearby. I'm surprised you're already so contented at solitary play, but it reminded me - after the nursery ladies at church commented on it as well - that I was once told by a friend of my parents that she used to work in the nursery when I was pretty young, maybe 3 years old or so. She once set me up in front of an easel with some paints, and all the other children tired of the same activity quickly, but that was all I did the whole time, happily lost in my paints until my parents collected me. This stood out to her enough that she still remembered this about me many years later when I encountered her. I hope we share the trait of being easily amused so I can spend hours staring at anthills with you, tracing the paths of the scurrying ants. Or tracking the moon's rise through the sky as twilight transitions to night. There's a lot of beauty that can be missed when we rush, and I'd like to experience these wonders again with you. Already I'm caught up in seeing things again through your eyes. I think that's one of the chief joys of parenthood - recapturing little bits of our childhood as we witness our child encounter so many things for the first time.

I love your spontaneous laughs. I admit that when you laugh suddenly in response to something that amuses you, I feel as if I could cry. And I don't just mean a solitary tear leaking out of my eye; I mean a good, hearty sob. If I had to explain it, I think it's because it shows how alive you are, how joyful, and it's captured and shared in that moment. Not only that, but that as your mother, I get to play some role in this (and that, at least in that little moment, we haven't completely messed up in raising you). There are so many things that you're going to face down the road, and I know my heart will break as you encounter sadness and hurt and betrayal. But for now, those things aren't even in your memory, so as the wind whipped through your hair one gorgeous afternoon, as it tickled your face and tossed the dead leaves in the driveway into an impromptu dance, you couldn't help but laugh outright. It erupted from you, and I got to witness it. Each time a huge gust came, so did your hearty enjoyment. Yes, darling, keep that joy. Don't forget there are marvelous things all around, just waiting to be noticed. Winter is long, but there is a spring that comes and makes all things new again.

Much love,
Mommy

A Letter to My Daughter: Six Months Old

2011-03-15T13:53:00.005-04:00

Dear Brennan,

I can hardly believe that today marks six months of life for you - where has the time gone?!

You have changed a lot in the last month.

For starters, on the day I wrote your last letter (February 18th), you started sitting up. You were a little uncertain initially, but now you're a champ. You love to spend a lot of time just watching and playing. I love how your dad, though, still surrounds you with pillows. Admittedly, I sometimes do the same, but it's extra endearing to see him so attentive.

Your favorite toys tend to be ones that make noise: rattles, songs, and crinkly pages rank high in your book.

You also evicted yourself from our bedroom at night. We realized you'd outgrown the weight limit of the bassinet level, and you absolutely refused to sleep in the bottom of the pack and play, which led to some long, exhausting nights in the recliner until we decided we'd transition you to the crib. Since you nap there during the day, it was not hard for you to sleep soundly at night.

We have a video monitor, and it's amusing to see you as you stir. You're aware that, if we're not in the nursery's recliner when you awake, we will walk through the door located near your head. You will crane your neck and start staring that direction, just waiting for us to enter. I love that we wake to your chatter - it's precious to see you happy to welcome the day.

Another cute development has taken place when we're changing you. Dad still loves to keep you in sleepers during the day when you stay around the house because of their convenience, but on days you're wearing an outfit, you giggle hysterically when we pull something off over your head. It's far better than the alternative of screaming or being upset, and it makes us dissolve in giggles as well.

You have been a champ at sleeping again, for almost the last month. I think it was a combination of migrating to your crib and just outgrowing that sleep regression. I fear, though, that the six-month sleep regression is upon us. You've been waking an hour or more earlier than your norm (a blessed 8 AM occurrence, right on the dot), culminating in a 5:30 wake-up call today. The comfort, if this continues, is that it's temporary. It may last 4-6 weeks, like last time, but it will come to an end. Daddy's hoping today was a fluke, as you did fall asleep last night at 7 PM. We woke you a couple times to feed you before we went to bed, but you were pretty wiped.

Teething is still strong. You've started bringing toys to your mouth, a nice change from your fingers or fist. No teeth have popped through yet, but it probably isn't too far off.

You've also taken to helping Daddy when he gives you a bottle; just about every time he feeds you he says you will take over holding the bottle for an ounce or more.

Your daytime naps are still only 30 minutes a pop at four different times, which makes it seem like you're never down for long. When you change the routine and surprise us with a 2-hour nap, we're beside ourselves as we hardly know what to do in your absence and have no warning when these stretches will occur. One day last week I was reading my Kindle in the other room, thinking I'd only have about 20 minutes to relax until it was time to play again, and as the minutes kept marching by, I just kept reading, sure any second you'd stir. I think I read about 90 minutes that stretch - quite a treat!

Your hair is slowly thickening; no longer is it likened to peach fuzz. You are solidly in 6-9 month clothes, and have been for at least the last month. When placed in your walker, inherited from your cousins, you will make your way across the floor. I took a video of the first time you were in it on a tile floor. You made halting motions until Dante ran past you, and then you took off after him.

I'm still so enamored with you. You're the model of a perfect baby. You are just fussy enough to remind us you're human, but you beam that grin at everyone and babble to yourself or anyone who will listen, stare excitedly at the cats, and just in general add much joy to our days.

Love,
Mommy

A Letter to My Daughter: Five Months Old

2011-02-18T19:36:00.005-05:00

Dear Brennan,

This past week you turned five months old.

I know last month I waxed rhapsodic about your awesome nighttime sleeping. And then we hit a sleep regression, which is apparently somewhat common in the fourth month, perhaps due to some neurological developments taking place. So while I mentioned how we almost missed those recliner nights, we've certainly had our fill this past month. No longer do you sleep through the night; instead, you wake up anywhere from one to three times between the hours of 1 AM and 8 AM. While nowhere near as taxing as your first month when we never seemed to sleep more than two hours in a stretch, it's still been somewhat draining since we've been so spoiled with sleeping through the night again. I'm hoping we only have another week or so of this. These last few nights, especially, have seen us acting as zombies throughout the day, which is the primary reason I am writing this letter a few days late.

It didn't help that I put in a lot of extra hours of work from home last week, often choosing to do so in the evening hours while you slept. On at least two occasions, I was up until midnight (or a little later...) working away to help with final preparations for the annual recruitment weekend. The additional pay was nice, but it made for short nights when you'd want to eat at 3 or 4 AM.

I guess I haven't shared about my work arrangements. I work 12 hours a week (over three days), and when I'm gone, your daddy watches you. In the beginning it was a struggle to get you on a normal feeding schedule - you were pretty strong-willed and didn't want to take a full bottle feeding, instead just taking in the bare minimum required to sate the worst of your hunger. This meant that Dad needed to feed you a couple ounces about every hour, and I never knew when I'd be feeding you when I took over again. But you've happily settled into a routine, content to eat every three hours during the day, no matter the method. We're also starting to see patterns in your naps as well. You only do bouts of 30 minutes on average, and you're only awake about 90 minutes at a time; if it nears the 2 1/2 hour mark (or longer), you're pretty miserable.

In other news, you continue to grow like a weed, staying near the top of the percentile charts for both height and weight. At your last appointment, you were 16 pounds and 12 ounces, 26.5 inches long and sporting a cranium with a circumference of 17 inches. In your rear-facing carseat, your feet can touch the back seat, so while you could remain in the carseat until 22 pounds, your dad is wondering if we should transition you to the convertible carseat sooner rather than later.

It can be harder to get you to take naps while running errands or at our small group if you're not asleep when we arrive. Before you were blissfully unaware of people, but now you want to take in all the sights. If you are fighting naps with Mommy or Daddy at home or in Daddy's office, complete with screaming and pummeling, we just need to take you someplace where people are located, and you will happily cease your tears and smile at anyone who will make eye contact with you to the point that no one would believe you were utterly exhausted. This makes us fear that two introverts have somehow made an extrovert!

You reach out for toys now and will play with your fabric books, even picking them up again after they've been dropped within reach. Your favorite toys seem to be the sets of plastic keys. You grip them and shake them with all your might. The crinkly elephant teether and the small pooh blanket also hold a special place with you, though.

You love to have a good vantage point from which to take in everything around you. While you still spend some time laying on your tummy or back (and have the corresponding bald spot to prove it), you love more and more being upright in your exersaucer or being supported in a sitting position. In fact, your legs are pretty strong as well, and you will happily balance on them and gaze all around for longer and longer stretches of time.

To aid in your desire to sit up and participate, we bought a booster seat. At this size you would barely get opportunity to use a Bumbo (one of those foam seats for babies) since you'd outgrow it in a few pounds, but this booster seat will grow with you through your toddler years, and it's portable so it will allow us to take it along if we'll be out in a friend's home at mealtimes. We have a swing that converts to a highchair, but as we still use the swing feature, this gives us a little more time before we need to switch it. Now you sit in the seat at the kitchen table while I make dinner or while daddy is on his computer and you gladly play with your toys or watch the cats. We're holding off on food until you're six months, but this booster seat has two separate trays; one that you currently use to hold your toys and books, and another one with divisions for food that will snap on to the existing tray at snack and meal times.

While you did some rolling over in late December and early January, we haven't seen anymore on that front for a while; I suspect this next month might have it making a reappearance.

You still get attention everywhere we go; we've always been biased as to your cuteness, but it seems the general population agrees that you're quite adorable. You ham it up and beam your huge smile at them, further perpetuating their belief that you are just beautiful. Those instances where we see a pout, though, still make me smile - it's so pathetically adorable I can't help myself!

Your eyes are still blue, but the jury is out as to whether or not they will remain that way. I'm hoping you'll keep your daddy's eye color, but I know my brown eyes are dominant. In other physical attributes, most people see more of me in you than your father, but you certainly have his ears (notable because I have an earlobe and neither you or your daddy do).

You get really excited when we change your diaper; raspberries on your tummy will make you laugh and you love to kick wildly as you smile. In another development, instead of simply raising your legs, you use your hands to help hold them up during a diaper change. I'm always amused when you want to continue holding them aloft when we're trying to affix the new diaper - you haven't quite figured out when to lower them.

The last couple weeks have seen a marked difference in your chatting - you love to hold "conversations" with us, and now you've added squealing to your repertoire.

I have to be careful around your hands now. You will clasp a necklace, my hair, or my glasses if they come into contact with your fingers, and if my face is near, I might find your fingers inside my mouth or gripping forcefully at the skin under my chin. It can be a battle to free anything from your fierce grip, so I'm having to be a little more mindful with what crosses your path.

I'm still waiting for your first genuine contact with one of our cats, particularly if you get a good fistful of their hair or tail. They still both seem to give you due deference, although they're not frightened. Sometimes, though, Augustine has forgotten that you're still small. During some recliner sleeping sessions she has happened along and wanted to join in...by trying to get onto your back. I keep pushing her off as she sets one paw tentatively down, but then she returns again and again. I only hope this means she and you will be good friends when you're a little older (she won't snuggle with just anyone). While she used to sleep alongside you on our chests when you were smaller, you take up too much space now for that to happen. Even Dante, who likes to be petted but rarely will crawl up on a lap, spent some time with us in the recliner last week. These are good signs.

Last weekend we traveled to Illinois to spend some time with Eric's family; they needed their baby fix (quite understandable). You wouldn't cooperate with any laughs for them, but you were in good spirits and traveled well. In honor of Valentine's Day, your paternal grandparents gave you an outdoor baby swing for our front tree, and while it's hard to believe you'll be old enough to use it this summer, June will be here before we know it, and I can't wait to see your excitement as we push you in it.

I suppose this is plenty of information on your last month. We're still tickled to be your parents, albeit a little more tired. It's okay if you decide to sleep through the night again - we'll still be there when you wake up, and we'll be even more ready to play!

Love,
Mommy

A Letter to My Daughter: Four Months Old

2011-01-15T15:11:00.006-05:00

Dear Brennan,

Today you are four months old. So much has already changed since we brought you home.

We've had some amazing laughs out of you. Initially it was in response to tickling, but last Saturday, while Eric was outside snowblowing, I put you in the exersaucer for the first time. Trying to interest you in the toys, I slid one mouse over the clock (it's Mother Goose themed). As it made a clicking sound, you laughed a great big belly laugh. I froze, shocked, and then did it again. You didn't disappoint, so I grabbed the camera, not wanting to miss this moment. You couldn't get enough. I would push the toy, you would laugh suddenly, then go immediately quiet as you looked at me. It was a perfect moment, one that nearly brought me to tears. I am still so honored to get to see you grow every day.

You had your first Christmas, yet you didn't show much interest in events around you - lots of staring, but little interaction. I know next year you will be quite the opposite, although if rumors hold true, you'll be more fascinated by the boxes, bows, and wrapping paper than the objects they hide.

You're more easily distracted. I noticed you were riveted by the large TVs our families had - it didn't matter what was on (news, football, or the like), you had to watch the moving shapes and colors. Even at home with our modest TV, I notice you turning to the sound and staring at it. This might limit when we have the TV on since it's starting to distract you from eating and I'd rather you not show an interest in it just yet.

You smile all the time. I have so many photos of you with your huge grin, and I love that you're a happy baby.

You grab toys now, not just ones that we place in your hands. In your bouncy seat, you grip the parrot especially hard, and on your play mat your fingers find the spinning toy. You love to kick objects, and it seems like when we change your diaper you are starting to learn to lift your legs out of the way.

You love bath time, and while we still have the baby tub in the kitchen sink, you're starting to get a lot of height with your splashing, so it's probably time to transition you to the bathroom tub in the near future unless I relish trying to clean off water from the ceiling.

You used to sleep until 7:30 or 8:30 AM, but you've now regressed to waking up around 6:30. This is especially hard on your parents after having been spoiled by several weeks of a good night's sleep, especially those nights when we're putting you down around midnight after your last feeding (you've usually been sleeping a couple hours by this point). I'm learning my night-owl tendency has been replaced by a desire to be well rested whenever you choose to rise, so I'm quick to jump into bed after putting you down for the night.

You are teething and have been showing signs for several weeks now. Yesterday we finally caved and gave you a half dose of Children's Tylenol, and today we graduated you to a full dose. I sometimes wonder if teething is to explain for your earlier mornings. You drool a lot now and you try to stick your fist in your mouth. You hate pacifiers - when we tried on multiple occasions to give you one, you act as if we're trying to choke you, so we remove it since your gagging shows us you're not a fan. In lieu of a pacifier, you suck on the side of your left hand. The reddened, dry skin along your thumb and forefinger show evidence of this. You haven't found your thumb, and I admit I'm not in any hurry to introduce you to it, since the side of your fist seems to placate you just fine. You also show signs of enjoying a teething ring, Sophie the Giraffe, and Ivy, a soft doll with knotted limbs you received at Christmas.

On a regular basis, especially when you're growing tired or fussy, I will catch that left hand in a fist against the back of your head. You've got a lot of peach fuzz now, but I can imagine you tugging on your hair or twirling it for comfort as more grows in.

You seem to enjoy books now, two of your favorites being Hippos Go Berserk! and Barnyard Dance. I think you are drawn to the sing-songy nature of the rhymes, and I still like reading them to you.

You sleep for about 13 hours a day, which leaves a lot of time to interact (your daytime naps seem to last 30 minutes most times, and periodically you indulge in 45 minutes to two hours, but it's hard to predict when those will happen). We read, play on your back and tummy, sit in mommy's lap facing outward so you can see what's going on all around, and even make use of the bouncy seat and exersaucer or a baby carrier.

I used to be somewhat nervous in the beginning - I think it's understandable given our experience with Katherine. It was hard to leave the room for long when you slept, even when I had the baby monitor on me. And when you'd suddenly sleep for much longer than normal, I'd have to check in on you to make sure everything was fine. A little congestion on your part had me looking up symptoms for RSV multiple times in the span of a week or two (sleepless mothers with newborns don't retain new information very well). And when someone at church commented on your complexion after seeing you for the first time, she said, "She almost looks a little jaundiced...but that might just be the lighting," I spent the rest of the day googling images of jaundiced babies and worrying there was a yellow tint to your skin when compared against mine. When I finally broached the subject with Eric that evening, he laid his hand next to your skin, and you were both the same shade. I'd been worrying for no reason. I tell myself that even though there has been plenty of grieving in my life with losing my brother and Katherine, that doesn't mean I'll only know sadness. You're doing much to bring joy into each moment.

Gradually as we're starting to see more of a routine emerge, and as my fear that something will happen starts to subside, I'm better able to balance my day. Your nap times turn into marathon cleaning sessions for me as I see how many baby clothes I can get folded and put away or how quickly I can clean the microwave, make lunch, vacuum, and the like. Sometimes I'll do a little work from home and I try to be pretty efficient in what I can accomplish in short order.

It's true babies change and grow so quickly. This week I put you in a purple vest I had knitted, and as I propped you in the corner of the recliner to take pictures, I marveled at how much older you seemed - sporting khaki pants, a long-sleeved white shirt, and this vest all while you sat propped up made me marvel at how quickly you're growing. Our joint naps in the recliner late at night or early in the morning are few and far between now, so even though it was a sign we were both tired, there's something sad about those days being mostly behind us.

It's fascinating to see how your sleep has evolved. In the early weeks, you seemed to sleep all the time, although you woke frequently to eat and seemed to sleep only while being held, so Eric and I were like two ships passing in the night, to and from the recliner with you. I remember being amazed at the night Eric and I were finally both in bed at the same time (although I usually ended up in the recliner with you around 4:30 or 5 AM until Eric relieved me when he woke up so I could stretch out in bed for some real sleep). In the midst of sleepless nights, we coped - the sun coming up in the morning did wonders to rejuvenate us - and while I wasn't sure how long before those days would end, on this side of things I see how quickly it evolved to you being able to sleep longer stretches in your bassinet or crib instead of jolting wide awake the moment we ever-so-gently laid you down.

You're starting to stir from your afternoon nap, so it's time I wrap this up. But know how much we love you. I can't wait to experience more new milestones in the coming days and weeks.

Love,
Mommy

A Letter to My Daughter: Three Months Old

2010-12-15T17:59:00.004-05:00

[This was written last month but I've only now gotten around to publishing it, so I'm back-dating it to reflect the proper date.]

Dear Brennan,

You are now three months old.

I find that I repeat myself endlessly with you, in a sing-songy voice. Something along the lines of: "Oh my goodness, your diaper is SO wet! SO wet! How did it get so wet?! What are you doing with such a wet diaper?!" This isn't something I did before, so I'm telling myself it's something innate in mothers that probably aids in language comprehension. Sounds plausible, right?

You are a happy baby. I love that when you wake up, you entertain yourself by looking around and wiggling your legs instead of crying. You brighten up and grin when we pick you up, and the couple times I've caught you giggling in your sleep, my heart just melts.

People have commented that you have long fingers, so there is talk whether you will embrace the creative or the physical activities where this comes in as an advantage (for the record, we'd be happy whether you follow the route of pianist or basketball player). Apparently you have quite the complexion; I've also heard numerous mention of how good your skin looked, and I think the c-section is to credit as I see other photos of newborns with blotchier skin and the temporarily misshapen head.

You seem to know kicking your feet activates lights and sounds on your bouncy seat and activity pad, although the playtime quickly escalates into sleepy time, and if we're not quick to notice, you are not afraid to let us know - in very loud terms - how upset you are that you are now struggling to fall asleep. Those times of fighting sleep aren't the most fun for you.

I remember reading someone say they got through the hectic and crazy days of five children very close in age by reminding herself that she will one day miss it. Admittedly, you are pretty easy to take care of, but already I notice I am a little sentimental that you can now sleep through the night. I don't yet tire of reading simple storybooks or singing silly songs or dangling toys for you. And the moment these activities grow tiresome - if they ever do - I trust this adage will come to mind: "One day, I will miss this."

You never knew Katherine, but that was one gift she left us with. Every moment is precious. Sometimes I grow quiet thinking of all the things we've already learned about you and how that time with your older sister was cut too short. So I even treasure those moments you kick against me and scream because you can't fall asleep, or the times I have to rush out of the store suddenly before you wail, or lugging the much heavier carseat around along with a diaper bag and everything else. It is a gift to be a mother to you, and in parenthood, the hard days and the easy days all work together to form a lifetime.

Love,
Mommy

Welcome to the World, Little One

2010-11-10T14:37:00.013-05:00

Eight weeks ago, on September 15, Eric and I arrived at the hospital at 7 AM to check in for my c-section.

Quick side story: Eric dropped me off at the door and proceeded to park the car while I began the check-in procedure, and more than one nurse asked me if I was there with anyone, worried I'd driven myself to the hospital and was going this alone. It was a little amusing until I realized they were asking because they must see some moms coming in without anyone to support them. They were visibly relieved when Eric materialized.

It's a strange feeling to know the exact date, and basically the time, that you will have a baby. I'd had a bag mostly packed for a couple weeks, but we finished our packing the night before and did our best to get some sleep. We took our last pregnancy photo before walking out the door; after all, it was 39 weeks to the day, and I'm all about the documentation! I'd had Eric take a photo the night before in case we forgot or were in a hurry in the morning, but there was a part of me that knew it wasn't the 39-week photo, it was instead the 38-weeks-and-6-days photo, and we couldn't leave it at that!

We spent the next three hours doing a lot of sitting around. I spent a few minutes doing some of the last knitting I was likely to do for the foreseeable future, although the IV made this a little awkward.

As the time neared, I found my pulse racing, some due to general nerves, some due to memories of my first c-section. As my daughter's heartrate would also increase at those times, I tried to keep calm. No need for her to feed off my anxiety.

I was wheeled into surgery and given the spinal. My blood pressure was low during the entire pregnancy, and the spinal caused it to decrease even more to the point that I was nauseous and worried about fainting; they gave me something to bring it back up.

And then it began. Eric was brought to my side and we waited some more. And then we heard it: a robust, even angry, cry materializing from our newly born daughter.

We'd been told throughout my pregnancy that she wasn't going to be any little thing, so as the doctor commented again on her size, we waited for the nurses to announce her weight. Next thing we heard was someone saying, "Ten oh three," and both of us were aghast. She hadn't seemed that large when she was shown to us in passing! We said as much, and the nurses laughed at our confusion. They had announced the time of birth, not her weight. She was all of seven pounds, 14 ounces.

Eric was able to hold her soon after, and I craned my neck to examine her. She was precious. She wasn't at all happy to be in a bright, cold room, and she let this be known. I watched her lower lip tremble as she geared up for each new wail, and as I relished her arrival, her life, I broke down in tears. This amazing day had arrived, and we were being entrusted with her life. I had carried her for 39 weeks, but now I finally got to meet this little being, our daughter Brennan.

Surgery was completed and we were whisked to the recovery room. I struggled with nausea for the first couple of hours after surgery; when the first medication had no effect, they gave me a dose of something that would certainly work, but would make me pretty drowsy as well. This meant I came in and out of consciousness frequently for her first day of life as visitors rotated through to meet her, but that and a good night's sleep resulted in a well rested mommy by day two.

For those of you who want more stats: she passed the APGAR with flying colors, first scoring a nine and then a ten (the one point she lost was due to color). She was 20.5 inches long.

I'll try to post again soon with details of her first two months of life. I return to work on Monday (!), but as she is starting to have a schedule emerge, I have some semi-predictable free time in the afternoons during her long nap.

A Letter to my Daughter: 9 Days

2010-09-06T19:48:00.002-04:00

Dear Baby Daughter,

I am filled to overflowing with thankfulness lately. When I became pregnant with you, I didn't know what the future would hold. I started hoping we would make it out of the first trimester, and we did so without incident. Then I hoped we would make it past 24 weeks, and we managed that with flying colors. Each day has come and gone, adding up into weeks, and I've remained pregnant.

I was considered high risk because of my past complications, but this uneventful pregnancy has done much to help heal our emotions and allowed us the chance to hope again. You can't replace your sister, but we're so grateful to be able to welcome you into our family. I've had frequent doctor visits and ultrasounds, but everything continued normally. Weight gain was gradual, blood pressure and blood sugars remain low, and even with all the heat this summer, there hasn't been even a hint of swelling.

Here we are, me about to reach 38 weeks, and we're only nine days away from meeting you face to face. I can hardly believe the time has nearly come. Last week, my doctor said they wouldn't stop anything if I went into labor on my own - they would just move up my surgery date - but I've instructed you to wait until the 15th - after all, I'd like to experience a normal, scheduled c-section instead of having to be rushed into an emergency one again. There are bound to be flashbacks as we recall what we experienced with Katherine, but we're trying to trust. Circumstances are vastly different this time around.

You're a decent size at this point - the doctors think you won't be any small thing, but you appear to be perfect. I've loved watching you transform in the ultrasounds; in the last one, you rubbed your hands in front of your eyes as if we were disturbing your sleep, and such typical baby movements made this all the more real to me. You are a miracle inside of me, constantly growing.

I am beyond fascinated with your movements inside me. As you've grown, your kicks have transformed into squirming, so I feel you throughout much of the day as you are ever shifting. I love watching my belly as you distort it with all your movements. And I cannot believe that in a little over a week, I'll get to put names to all these movements. Right now, I can't distinguish between what's an elbow or a knee, but starting next Wednesday, as I see you move outside of me, I'm pretty sure I will lose track of my days. If I'm this transfixed with unidentified movements inside me, I can only imagine how much more emotional it's going to be to see you.

I admit I know there might be some long days and sleepless nights ahead as we figure out this whole parenting thing, but I feel so blessed with the support and prayers of friends and family and know we will approach one day at a time. I'm honored I've been able to carry you these many months, and I can't wait for the continued joy of getting to be your mother.

Love,
Mommy

Preggo Brain in Three Acts

2010-08-30T20:14:00.004-04:00

All of these occurred in the span of about three days last week. Those of you with child, be forewarned. Apparently, once you reach 36 weeks, your brain disconnects. These are presented in the order they occurred, so I'm concerned at where this escalation leaves me.

Act One

A student entered the main office, asking if I had any bandaids. I collected the box from a back cupboard, gave her a couple, then went back to return them. I was inches away from opening the mini fridge to put them inside. I caught myself, though, before I opened the door.

In my defense, I do open the mini fridge several times a day, pregnant or not, whereas the cupboard is rarely touched, so I cut myself some slack on this instance and wrote it off to habit - once I was in the vicinity, my feet just took over until my brain informed them I wasn't in search of a snack.

All told, a relatively minor instance of preggo brain, if it could even be blamed on that. Let's move on to later that same day.

Act Two

Washing my hands is something I've done tens of thousands of times. It's pretty straightforward, right? Water gets turned on, soap is dispensed, your hands are vigorously scrubbed, rinsed, and then dried off, and then you're done.

This, however, proved to be too much for me one evening last week. I had use of both hands, so no real excuse for what happened. One hand was on the faucet, turning it on, while the other one was simultaneously depressing the soap dispenser. Do you know what happens when you dispense soap with one hand while the other hand is nowhere nearby to collect the stream of suds? It trickles down the side of the sink, wasted.

I stood there, just shaking my head at myself. Perhaps I could say it was due to a long day at work? Yeah, I didn't think so, either. Just like you're never supposed to forget how to ride a bike, I would have classified hand washing right up there as something that should be second nature after you've been doing it nearly three (!) decades. I guess here is where I 'fess up to the final act of preggo brain.

Act Three

Friday I was having Braxton Hicks contractions. I had an appointment the previous week and then not another until the end of this week, but I'd been feeling a little different for a couple days, and the BH contractions had been pretty regular (hardly breaking in between, it would seem), so I wanted to get checked out before the weekend so I wouldn't question myself if they continued. I have an active imagination, and this would make us rest easy.

I called my doctor's office and they said they could get me in immediately after lunch. I figured it would be treated like a regular appointment, so I made sure to drink plenty of fluids so I would be ready to provide a sample.

I showed up on time, got weighed, and the nurse asked me if I had brought a urine sample. When I answered in the negative, she directed me towards the bathroom and told me to leave one.

Now I'd like to remind you that I had been drinking plenty of water and waiting to use the restroom for this very reason. It had been at the forefront of my mind. It should have been no problem. After all, this is what happens at every doctor's appointment, and being a good girl about keeping all my appointments (and having a few more than normal because I'm considered high risk), I have become pretty familiar with this routine.

And then I reverted to habit. Not doctor's-office habit, but I'm-a-big-girl-who-knows-how-to-use-the-potty habit. I finished my business, only to realize the sample had completely escaped my mind in the few seconds from acknowledging the nurse's expectation to the time it took me to sit down, and there was nothing I could do to remedy the situation. What was done was done, and I was empty.

I couldn't believe myself. It appears I had the opposite issue from the previous act. In Act Two, I was shocked I had forgotten a familiar routine that had been happening for decades. In this act, I reverted to a familiar act even though I associate the restroom at a doctor's office as an exception to the routine.

I exited the restroom, pled pregnancy brain to the waiting nurse, and told her that since I'm pregnant and spend much of my time structuring my day around trips to and from the restroom, odds were I'd have to go again in ten minutes. She kindly said nothing, and before I left my appointment, everyone was happy.

And to conclude, in case you were curious, Friday's appointment showed nothing was yet progressing, so we still have two weeks to see what other instances can occur. I know you can hardly wait. If things continue to escalate, I expect myself to show up to work in my bathrobe. Or maybe I'll forget how to put the car in reverse. Perhaps I'll forget my name (like the time I answered the phone in my classroom - after I'd been married three years - with my maiden name; there was no pregnancy brain to blame that on, just general confusion when the phone rang during a teaching period).

Pregnancy Update

2010-08-02T18:34:00.002-04:00

I reach 33 weeks Wednesday- here is a photo of me at 32 weeks. I've put on 23 pounds and it seems to be all belly (you can't tell I'm pregnant from behind).

It looks like I'm on track to have a big girl. At my ultrasound a couple weeks back, they predicted her to be around 5 pounds, 4 ounces. Of course, there is a margin of error, but we're preparing to have a decent-sized girl; in these remaining weeks, babies tend to add anywhere from a third to double their entire body weight.

I'm still strict with my insulin-resistance dietary guidelines. After the above ultrasound, though, the doctor wanted me to check my blood sugars for a week or two to ensure her size wasn't due to gestational diabetes but instead could be explained by genetics (I did pass my GD test a couple months ago, but it can develop later in the pregnancy). I go in again this week, but from my testing, it sure seems my blood sugars are always on the low end. It's been a welcome learning exercise to check my levels with such frequency; I sometimes feel weak and light-headed and had previously written it off solely due to my low blood pressure, but I've noticed I also have low blood sugar at those times.

My c-section is scheduled for September 15. We feel like we are prepared for her arrival. I still need to pack my hospital bag, and it wouldn't hurt if we picked up some baby nail clippers and a thermometer, but we have a place for her to sleep, clothes, a carseat, and diapers. There are still general jobs around the house we'd like to tackle, but she won't notice if the place isn't perfectly clean.

I have periods of nesting that translate to cleaning and purging. However, I'm also suffering from general tiredness, so I have to weigh what's most realistic at any given time. I've enjoyed sorting through things from a seated position, for instance, but I can't always run around the house to accomplish the other organizational tasks. I assess my energy levels and act accordingly. And Eric is willing to serve as my hands and feet when I just can't imagine another trip up and down the stairs.

Eric is still the perfect expectant father. There are more door-side dropoffs when we're running errands (he is sensitive to my ever-expanding belly, the summer temperatures, and my slowed walking pace), and he never faults me for asking a favor. I'm independent, so it's sometimes hard for me to ask him to fetch me something when I am beyond exhausted but am in need of food or drink, but he never complains or grumbles, so I suck up my pride and ask, knowing he won't make some snide comment about me being lazy. Of course, if he thought to mouth off, I might have him strap on a 25-pound weight around his midsection and wear it for a few weeks to see how he fared.

The pregnancy insomnia has subsided once again, but our younger cat sees it as his job to make sure I need to get up at least once to tend to him (i.e., kick him out of the bedroom when he turns into "Mafia Cat"*). This tending doesn't necessarily coincide with my other pregnancy-related trips out of bed in the middle of the night.

After my maternity leave, I'm only returning to work in a part-time capacity - three days a week for a total of 12 hours - and I'm looking forward to the arrangement Eric and I have decided on. When I come to campus, I will drop our daughter off at Eric's spacious basement office, which will be outfitted with a pack-and-play, a portable swing, and a baby carrier. I will walk across the grass to my building, work my hours, and then collect her again. If all goes well, Eric will be able to get some work done while enjoying some one-on-one father-daughter time, and I can contribute to our finances and still have some adult interaction.

My youngest sister is visiting next week. For the second summer in a row, she's chosen our place to crash after returning from overseas (last year was China, this year, the Czech Republic). I recognize there will probably be some jet-lag issues, and I can't take off the whole week to be with her, but I might put her to work if she's willing. I've got it in my head that I'd like to freeze some meals so we don't have to expand as much energy with food prep in the fall. I've got a few recipes to try, so maybe if she'd like to spend some time in the kitchen while I'm at work, I can set her loose. I suspect we'll fall in love with the freezer meals and our crockpot all over again as the fall sets in.

*Mafia Cat is Dante's nickname when he thinks it's time for us to shower him with affection or, more likely, get up and let him enjoy our screened-in porch (we typically let them out in the morning when we get up, so he's hoping if he wakes us up at 2 AM, the same holds true; no dice, but hope springs eternal). He goes to my bedside table and starts looking at me to make sure I'm stirring, then he begins knocking things off. I imagine his thoughts are as follows: "Look at this cute travel alarm - oops! Seems that in my clumsy state I knocked it over - let's hope it still goes off in the morning at its appointed time. And your glasses, nestled safely in their case. I wonder how well they'd fare after a trip to the floor. Let's experiment, okay? Wow, this is an awfully nice antique lamp. It'd be a shame if something were to happen to it. Ooh, look, it starts rocking when I jam my head against its shade or nibble on the brim!"

Seven

2010-07-05T09:26:00.004-04:00

After seven years...

You're still my best friend. Happy anniversary, love.

A Letter to My Daughter

2010-06-07T22:59:00.001-04:00

Dear Baby Daughter,

At nearly 25 weeks, I’ve now officially passed the point in pregnancy where I was at with Katherine when I was rushed to my emergency caesarean, so everything from here on out is new to me. It’s bittersweet to mark this time; after all, there are so many memories of what was going on at this stage in my pregnancy with her, and I’m glad there are no symptoms currently to be concerned about with you, but I still wish things hadn’t turned out the way they had and that we could be introducing you to your big sister when you arrived.

Nevertheless, I keep doing my best to trust. When I was right around 23 weeks pregnant with Katherine, we made our annual summer trip home. My first full day back in Indiana found me swollen beyond recognition and being checked into the hospital for observation. In two weeks, I had put on 20 pounds due to water retention, and it all went downhill from there. Here I was, nearly two years later, facing a summer trip home at basically the same point in my pregnancy as before, and I admit there was some anxiety. What would I do if I started to swell and was a couple states away from the doctors that knew me and my history?

However, I had a clean bill of health from my doctor and she wasn’t concerned with me traveling, so we made the long drive home. There hasn’t been a hint of swelling, even with the warmer temperatures. I delight when I see my rings unable to stay balanced and upright on my fingers, instead sliding upside-down because of how loose they continue to be. Just one more sign that I don’t have evidence of swelling and that I am healthy at this moment.

The trip home was filled with unending relaxation and good food, great visits with friends and family, and so many naps I lost count. I’m sure you enjoyed the change in routine, but I admit now that it’s over, it’s hard to adjust to just one nap a day again, especially since it doesn’t occur before 5:15 PM. I feel great during this pregnancy, but I do find myself fading more quickly than before I was pregnant, and I do get the requisite winded feeling after exerting myself for any length of time.

Your activity, growing ever stronger, is a comfort. Remind me of this when you start attacking my ribs or keeping me up at night! You like to make it known when you’re getting hungry, which considering I like to eat every couple hours, means you’re also shaping up to be a grazer, at least in utero. And then, once I’ve eaten, I can tell when the food has reached you and you start to dance in appreciation. Come bedtime, you start up your jumping again, usually against the side of my stomach that touches the mattress – this may not bode well for when you learn to jump in your toddler years and realize that the mattress makes an ideal platform, but right now it’s amusing. Some days are quieter on your end, but you don’t fail to let me know you’re still there doing well, even if you’re a little sleepier than the day before. You’re getting big enough that what were once flutters are now more decided movements, and you can even span a good distance when you stretch, so I can feel kicks and punches simultaneously on opposite sides of my stomach.

While home, two of my sisters got to feel you kicking. You even managed to scare my older sister, which made me laugh. At first, she felt a couple subtle movements, then you gave a really good jab, and she pulled away suddenly, shocked at your strength and giggling at her response.

I’ve officially popped – it happened around 22 weeks, and I currently seem to be all belly. You’re happy hanging out right in front, so while anyone who gets a side glance knows full well I’m pregnant, I’ve been told they can’t tell from behind that I’m expecting.

Your daddy is so good to me – I can’t wait for you to meet him. I decided it would be a nice gesture of solidarity if he gave up his beloved caffeinated soda while I swore off caffeinated coffee, and he’s humored me in that move. Although my former car was sufficient, he traded it in for a newer, more reliable car since it had safer crash ratings and he could rest easier knowing you would be better protected should an accident ever happen.

When I had a mild panic attack after seeing some white spots upon standing up suddenly (different from some earlier light-headed spells), he humored me by buying an automatic blood pressure cuff so I could confirm my levels were still low, thus keeping me calm when doubts creep in. He drove the entire way home from Iowa, even turning down my offers to help, because he wanted me to be well rested upon our return. He didn’t mind that he had to load and unload most of the car on his own – many of our items fell into the “over 20 pounds” limit that I’m not allowed to touch.

I haven’t yet sent him out on a craving errand, and I tease him that apparently he’s lucked out because of it. I talk to friends and learn of their late-night cravings that send their spouses running to the car, but you haven’t yet driven me to request specific food items beyond what I can find at home.

Every single day, he’s beyond helpful with never a word of complaint and even as my body changes, he still finds me beautiful. You and I are lucky to have such a thoughtful, loving man we each get to call husband and daddy. I already know you’re going to be treasured by him and he will dote on you every moment.

We just ordered your crib, which was another big step for us as we admitted that it was time to hope that this might actually happen for us and we could take more concrete steps to prepare for your arrival. Now we just need to find a dresser to buy that will hold all the baby girl clothes friends and family are passing on to us – I’m reminded again at how the predominant color for baby girls is pink, so in my knitting I’m trying to add some variety to the color palette.

I anticipate the coming months of growth, and each day and each week that passes in this uneventful pregnancy gives me added hope that we will get to know you longer than we did your older sister. Know that I already love you so much, and I look forward to getting more glimpses of your personality in the coming weeks, and then seeing you face to face in late summer. Feel free to stay inside a long time yet – I’m more than willing to experience all the uncomfortable awkwardness that comes with making it full term and being quite pregnant in the humid summer months. I’m happy to endure any aches and pains and sleepless nights that might happen as I grow in size – just do your best to stay in there until the doctor decides it’s time for you to come out, preferably as a full-term, plump, healthy baby.

Love,
Mommy

Thursday Potpourri

2010-04-29T19:41:00.007-04:00

I’ve been trying to decide what this blog should hold – do I continue with my postings on any number of topics – a random story about family or work, pictures of my felines, accounts of finished knitting and sewing projects? I think since there’s not a common theme, I have neglected posting. After all, when you can write about anything, it can be difficult to narrow it down and make the time to compose something. When I was teaching, I had no lack of stories from work, but I don’t have the same amusement in my current position, which has led to the evolution of topics.

Anyway, in the midst of my current thinking, I thought I’d just include random updates on a myriad of topics.

Our Pets
Augustine and Dante have settled into a tolerant relationship, and it seems clear that Augustine has secured the Alpha Cat position for herself, and Dante just follows her around everywhere. This was our hope all along and the reason we got a small, male kitten. They adore the screened-in porch and are relishing the warmer temperatures, particularly when that means there are open windows. Augustine still has the sweet temperament, and Dante can be aggravating in his antics, but we’ll still keep him (it doesn't hurt that his flatulence has lessened...).

I don’t know if it’s due to my pregnancy, but Augustine has decided that Eric is the preferred sleeping companion at night, which is a first. My favorite example of this was last Saturday night, when I caught her with me. Every time Eric stirred she jumped up, walked across me and stepped on him, and when he didn’t respond, she repeated her steps and settled down with me again, resigning herself to more time with me. This was repeated four times in the span of half an hour or so, until finally Eric stirred enough that I thought he might be awake, and I told him he better welcome Augustine before I reached my tolerance at being treated as second-rate.

Changes in Me
As referenced above, I am pregnant, due in September. This could be a post in and of itself, but due to my infrequency, I better address it now. Although not my first pregnancy, it might at well be with the way I face it. It’s as if I’ve never gone through this before, and I am more anxious this time around, knowing that I’m high risk. I think I’ve come to the conclusion that there is just too much information out there for pregnant women. If we look too closely at anything, we’ll find a reason it’s not safe in pregnancy. Pregnant women are supposed to sleep on their sides, and some places will tell you to only sleep on your left side or face the dire consequences – if any of you can sleep in only one position throughout the night without stirring, kudos to you. Don’t eat soft cheeses or sandwich meats, don’t stand too near a microwave when in use, elevate your feet throughout the day, take prenatals at least three months before getting pregnant, count the baby’s movements daily in your third trimester, and if they ever slow or vary, call your doctor or go to the emergency room. Some fish are okay, but not all, and only in limited servings. Avoid Caesar salads. And on and on.

My co-workers, all of whom are grandparents, drop their jaws whenever I mention one more thing I’m not supposed to do. Then they try to compare stories of all the things they did when they were pregnant with children, including ingesting alcohol. On a related note, I recall a story from a college classmate whose mother smoked but was told during pregnancy that as long as she limited her intake to three cigarettes a day, there would be no harm to the fetus. This was a big cutback to her normal habit, so sometimes she’d smoke only one or two a day so she could hoard the extras and treat herself to half a dozen at the end of the week. Things sure have changed in the medical field regarding pregnancies.

Sometimes I wander into a pregnancy forum, but there can be some alarmist posts, so I do that in moderation and I’m selective which threads I read. I’m at 19 weeks, and I’ve been feeling inconsistent movements for a few weeks now. I think I’m finally at the point where I’m feeling them on a daily basis, although they’re still of the “fluttering” variety, most apparent shortly after a meal or when lying down for bed.

Monday was the big anatomy ultrasound - our little one cooperated, so we learned we're having a girl! Since I’m considered high-risk, it was actually my fourth ultrasound, and they will continue on a monthly basis for the duration of my pregnancy. Physically I’m feeling fine, much better than my first pregnancy. And now that I’m feeling movements, my anxiety has decreased noticeably. However, since I’ve been down this road before, I have to keep reminding myself that if things continue as they are, we’ll have a different outcome, although I confess I am skeptical of this at times. I’m still mentally planning for the changes, keeping an eye out for things we may register for in the future and planning knitting projects for a future baby, but it’s still unreal to me.

Eric has asked when I want to start transforming my office into a nursery, and I’m in no hurry. I don’t want to plan on anything going wrong, and I’m honest in that my anxiety has been low as of late, but I don’t want to have to go through returning the nursery to an office again. I think I’ll be ready to move forward when I surpass 24 weeks, the point when I had complications last time.

Knitting
On the knitting front, I recently finished a hippo. I am in love with it. He is so charming and anyone who meets him just wants to squish him close – even my husband has granted it his seal of approval.

Details
Pattern: Hippo from Itty Bitty Toys (pattern link on Ravelry)
Yarn: Dream in Color Smooshy, held doubled throughout; small portion of Koigu KPM, held doubled throughout; spare black yarn for face embellishments
Modifications: None

I’ve since moved on to Giraffe, but I have trouble believing Giraffe can come anywhere near to supplanting my love for Hippo. The bar has been set pretty high. I have a couple other knit animals in my queue, but now that I know we're having a girl, I've gotten distracted. Brace yourselves for an onslaught of gender-specific outfits.

Preparing for Summer
We may have purchased a new car this week - my husband the planner thought we could upgrade my former car with one that boasted a better safety rating and half the mileage while we were both still drawing in full-time salaries. It doesn't hurt that I still get a moon roof and I now gained Bose speakers. And audio controls on the steering wheel? I don't ever want to go back!

Finally, I chopped my hair, partly inspired by the warmer temperatures, partly inspired by having had long hair for too long, and partly inspired by my youngest sister's adorable cut.

I'm enjoying the change. Now if only the warmer temperatures would stay...

Boats, Trains, and Automobiles

2010-03-26T21:43:00.002-04:00

I contemplated making a toy car mat for my nephew this Christmas, and when no satisfactory pattern was found, I turned to the equally desirable volcano mat (documented here).

In January, a co-worker showed me the perfect knit pattern for such a delightful toy mat, newly released by Knit Picks. It’s a hefty size (four feet by four feet), but as cute as can be. To temper my excitement, though, it was observed that the knitting consisted of an awful lot of stockinette (let’s not focus too long on the area of sixteen feet, or I might grow faint). However, I was not dissuaded long-term. I like some moderately straightforward knitting now and again.

However, the cuteness factor of the toy mat was trumped when I learned there were vehicles that accompanied this pattern, and the kit was duly purchased and immediately cast on.

Let me introduce you to the newest members of my toy knitting.

Enter: Train.

Boat.

Taxi.

Pickup Truck.

My only complaint is that the wheels called for on the vehicles are i-cord alone. No extra support, no padded wheels, just black i-cord that end up looking like flat tires since they’re sewn half-on and half-off the vehicle. I left them off the car and truck. I’m thinking children’s imaginations won’t mind concocting their own wheels, unless I come up with a more satisfactory solution.

Also, I should add the disclaimer that I didn’t take a close look at gauge – while I think I was pretty close if not right on, I was aiming for the proper density of knitted fabric to hide the stuffing. A couple of the projects had me running awfully close to empty when it came to yardage. My saving grace was that I had some leftover yarn in the same colors after finishing the collaborative Kristine blanket. If you aren’t so fortunate and are considering such a kit, I recommend an extra skein of red and yellow unless you’re very spot-on with gauge.

I’m afraid that I grew pretty attached to these items during the process. Unless I make some identical ones for my nephew, I have to confess these are now at home in my toy chest, or as I like to call it, “Aunt Faith sure has the best toys!”

Hey, if bribing is what it takes to get my family to visit me, so be it.

Kristine's Blanket: A Collaboration

2010-03-23T17:56:00.010-04:00

Let’s set the scene. A couple years back, about a dozen friends met on a weekly basis to knit, share life, and take in Cambodian Thai as often as we could justify. Since then, several of those individuals have moved on: four to schools or jobs out East, one to a job in Chicago, a couple are not too far away from here but not as close as to allow mid-week knitting, and yet another to Tennessee.

The newly-relocated Tennessee girl, Kristine, happened to share that she was pregnant this fall. It so happened that this summer I was suggesting to one of the remaining knitters that were one of our own to become pregnant, it would be nice to contribute a collaborative project; I even had a possibility in mind. After all, knitters often give but don’t often receive handknits, and especially since we’re all over the States, a gesture like this would be a special memory for the recipient – each square knit by a dear friend that she used to spend time with on a regular basis when she lived here, a special gift that she could share with her child. Thus, while we’re away, this blanket would hold a piece of us near.

Kristine, falling into my plans by conveniently getting pregnant, was the perfect recipient.

I sent out a mass email with the plan. We’d all lay claim to specific squares and colors for the Texture Baby Blanket (from Susan B. Anderson's book Itty Bitty Nursery), purchasing the same brand of yarn so there would be cohesiveness (here I am promoting KnitPicks again, but they offer great affordable yarn and their cotton is delicious).

We figured we had plenty of time to knit 2-3 squares before the March due date. Then we learned our dear friend was going to be in Chicago for a baby shower in December, and that spurred some sudden knitting and assembling to try to finish in time.

There’s always a gamble when eleven different individuals work together to try to make a cohesive project. Sure, we all used the same yarn brand, but our color tastes varied, and I wondered how it would turn out with such a mixture. Fortunately, we knew the recipient liked bold colors, so we thought that out of all of us, she would be most welcoming of a motley blanket.

As blocks were being returned, I admit there was some anxiety on my part. In such a project, if one person is making all 25 blocks, there can be some inattention when it comes to gauge. Use the same needle size and yarn, and the squares should be the same. However, when you have eleven knitters all aiming, more or less, for identical squares in the end, it’s imperative that the gauge be taken to account. However, as they were returned, not all were six inches square. Some were just shy, some were spot on, and some were about seven inches, or more of a rectangular shape. I was beginning to think we would be gifting 25 cotton washcloths to Kristine.

Fortunately, this was not going to be my problem to solve. Carly had offered to crochet all the squares together. She amazed me with her speed – I think it took under 48 hours to make an actual blanket out of 24 squares (one hadn’t yet been returned). The last block was seamed in on the way to the shower in the car.

Of course, time got the best of us, and at the shower, our blanket still had two squares without embellishments, no border, and more dangling ends than any knitter wants to face while sober. We showed her the project, let her caress and enjoy it for a time, and then whisked it away for finishing at the end of the night. She was gracious in response to our gift reclaiming. Over Christmas, I added the border and wove in ends (there are some bonuses to long car trips when I’m captive inside a moving vehicle). Then over the next couple months the final two squares were embellished, and we were able to mail it to her before her baby’s arrival (Baby Boy is supposed to emerge any day now, so getting it to Kristine before he came was enough for us).

She just received it a couple weeks ago, so I thought I’d share some photos of the completed project. You can see the edges don’t quite lay flat – I think this is where the differences in gauge is most obvious, but I think it turned out pretty well, all things considered.

A Tale of a Chicken (aka: Nancy Challenge #1)

2010-03-22T20:38:00.003-04:00

Once upon a time, there was a girl who noticed a distressing absence of chickens in her life. Not one to sit around and witness this tragedy continue longer than necessary, she decided to bring one to existence.

After a small dose of KnitPicks cotton, some fiberfill, and a fair amount of seaming together, Chicken entered the scene.

At first, this girl didn’t know what to make of him. She followed the (sparse) directions thoroughly, but his head was a little floppy, and that neck connection wasn’t the most attractive; some might speculate that he lacked proper support in that department. However, after two days had passed, she learned this allowed him to turn his head rakishly, so she decided it really did add to his personality.

With the satisfactory closure of this mission, her life is more complete.

This also completes her first Nancy Challenge (there are two other projects in various degrees of doneness and satisfaction that are currently in a holding pattern, plus Lent this year is composed of charity knitting, so we’ll see what’s next on the docket re: Nancy books).

Reflecting One Month Later

2010-02-12T21:27:00.002-05:00

Today marks one month after the earthquake in Haiti. Last month was the first month since starting this blog that I didn’t write. A couple possible blog topics crossed my mind, but they seemed trite compared to what was being experienced by Haitians. In fact, I thought I could share a story told to me by some individuals in our department who happened to be in Haiti when the earthquake hit. They’ve been interviewed by the local news and the university, so I think I’m at liberty to share their first names here. First, the principal characters are Father Tom and his employees Sarah and Logan. Logan was the one that shared their experience with me.

One of our research faculty members, Father Tom, is head of a program to eliminate a couple of prevalent diseases in Haiti; they have a clinic in Leogane, so he splits his time between the States and there. He and three of his employees happened to be in Haiti last week for meetings. Tuesday's meeting (January 12) was originally supposed to go until 5 PM in the Hotel Montana in Port-au-Prince, but one of the attendees wanted it to end early, so they modified the agenda so they were finished for the day at 3:30. There was some mingling immediately afterwards, and sometime after 4 PM Logan and Sarah were going to join a potential donor in her room on the 4th floor for a drink before dinner. The hotel had only four floors, so they were on the top floor.

Once they arrived, they spotted a terrace and, as the weather was perfect, they made the decision to sit outside and enjoy the view. As she looked over Port-au-Prince, Sarah was commenting how far Haiti had come in the last few years, making visible progress in all areas. They hadn't even been there ten minutes when the earthquake began. At first, the hotel rumbled mildly, and Logan looked around confused, wondering what was happening. It gained in strength and they were thrown violently to the tile floor, spread-eagle with nothing to hold on to, as they felt the hotel pancake underneath them. With one jolt, they fell to the third-floor terrace, then the building shook again, and they were on the second, and again, and then they fell once more.

The first person Logan saw as the dust settled was Father Tom (with the way Logan described it, I amused myself with picturing ethereal visions of Father Tom emerging untouched from the destruction all around). Fr. Tom had been a floor or two beneath them underneath a terrace, but as the earthquake began, he moved to the center to avoid the falling building. They stumbled and climbed over the rubble to reach the ground.

They found one of their Haitian employees had broken a leg. Sarah used to be a first responder, so they tore up Logan's shirt, found a couple sticks, and splinted his leg. After stock was taken, it was determined that not a single person associated with the Haiti program, or any of their families, had died, and the only injury was Claude's broken leg. I think Father Tom said there was still one person they were trying to track down, but those are pretty amazing numbers given the tragedy that took place.

In Leogane, where their hospital is located, 80 percent of the buildings collapsed, but the hospital is still standing (it helps that Father Tom, when he was given his grant from the Gates Foundation, had the College of Engineering at our university review the building plans and make alterations so it would be structurally sound to withstand an earthquake; at the time, he was given grief for spending several thousand dollars when it had been ages since an earthquake took place, but in hindsight, $5,000 dollars spent before building began sure seems like a sound investment given the outcome).

During the aftershocks, Logan spoke of seeing buildings fall around them and hearing all the screaming, but also at night, there were sounds of people praying and singing. He and Sarah made their way to the American Embassy within a day or so of the quake, where the Coast Guard was able to get them to the Dominican Republic, and then they flew out commercially and arrived safely home Friday night.

As Logan recounted the experience in our office, I had to hold back tears. Just visualizing what they experienced and wondering how I would be sleeping or acting after living through such an event is enough to make me emotional. For that moment, I could distantly relate to what Logan's mom, another employee in our department, said she is experiencing. Here, our people were all safe, and yet so many are suffering in the continuing mess. Call it survivor's guilt, or whatever it is when you're only casually connected to several individuals who experienced it and lived. They were on a terrace in a hotel where many were buried and died, and through luck, chance, or providence, their meeting ended early and they were on the top floor, not down below as they should have been.

Here they are, now removed from it all, safe and sound in the States, trying to find ways to continue their work and send aid back to Haiti. In time, they'll resume their disease elimination work in Haiti, but right now, their hospital will be transformed to provide general care. It's pretty staggering, and I don't know how quickly I could reenter my life.

Homemade Christmas, 2009 Edition

2009-12-31T20:49:00.017-05:00

In an effort to stave off the materialistic side of the holidays, and to have an opportunity to devote time to making special items for each of my side of the family, I again made my gifts for the holidays. Now that they've been gifted, I can share the spoils.

First up, felted clogs for my dad. [Ravelry pattern link]

And coordinating ones for his new wife.

For my new step-brother, I made a Norwegian Star Hat with Earflaps [Ravelry link]. Rumor has it his head (and hair) are both large, so I made a pretty substantial hat, which I then felted because it was pretty floppy and huge when all was said and done. It's still pretty roomy on me, so I'm trusting it will work.

The sisters received bags I sewed; I liked the results so much that I am in the process of picking up the same fabric to make an identical one for myself. I made two cross-body bags and one shoulder bag, following the directions. I personally prefer the shoulder bag, pictured below, but each sister was given a bag well-suited to their needs. [Margaret Sling Bag link]

My brother-in-law received a ribbed wool hat, although he doesn't have to roll the brim like I did for my posterity shot. [Ravelry link]

Even Eric was gifted a new pair of socks, here being modeled by my youngest sister, who happens to have smaller feet, thus the bagginess around the ankles.

The best part about his gift is that I worked on them in his presence repeatedly in the weeks leading up to Christmas, including the car trip to Iowa, and the bind-off was accomplished after Eric plopped himself next to me on Christmas Eve. With all that, he was oblivious (he's so used to me knitting that he doesn't take much notice as to what I'm actually making unless I point it out to him). I was glad he didn't take note, because I wanted them to be a surprise but was running out of time.

My mom received some homemade candles (more on that later), and some knit washcloths.

Now time to share the gifts for my nieces. They're both artistic, so I made portable art cases for them [Portable Art Case link]. Here is one closed.

And here is what it looks like once opened.

There's room for a dozen colored pencils, a drawing pad, and a couple activity books. In the small pocket, I threw in Old Maid and Go Fish in their respective pouches. As an aside, I waited to pick up a blank drawing pad until a few days before Christmas, and it was actually pretty difficult to find one. Apparently drawing materials are in short supply for the holidays.

My nephew was the proud new recipient of a dinosaur play mat [Dinosaur Play Mat link]. When folded up, it's not anything impressive.

But when you unfold it, it transforms into a play mat, complete with a movable tree, volcano, and cave, along with boulders and a lake.

For other family members, co-workers and friends, I made candles. I repurposed orphaned teacups and other containers, melted down wax, added dye and aroma, and waited for them to set so I could trim the wicks. I don't have any finished photos, so here's a progress shot.

I also whipped up small tote bags to hold the gifts for the office ladies, although at the last minute, I had to switch patterns once I realized I didn't have enough of the contrasting fabric for this pattern.

And that finally concludes Homemade Christmas for another year. I didn't get things going until Thanksgiving time, but I'm pleased with the outcome.

A Tale of Two Weddings

2009-11-19T22:32:00.000-05:00

[This was written last month, thus the November date stamp, but I'm finally getting around to adding the photos and publishing it.]

I am not objective when I see myself in a mirror. I remember when I was hunting for a wedding dress, I had trouble determining which ones I liked while wearing them. My older sister would take photos of me, and only later when I saw the pictures could I objectively determine which ones I liked.

When I began putting on weight after getting married, I didn’t notice how it was accruing until I’d see a photo of myself, and cringe as I thought, “Yikes! Is that how I look to others?” One thing after another contributed to the gain: Eric’s metabolism was higher than mine, so my natural grazing tendencies continued, but larger meals were thrown in as well; when we moved to Indiana, I was no longer on my feet teaching all day, so I was burning fewer calories; while at my desk job, sugary sweets were frequently offered, so while I have more salty cravings than sweet, I partook in the goodies so as not to offend. I probably averaged about five new pounds a year.

This weight loss – over 45 pounds since I was diagnosed last year this week – much like the initial gain, was gradual. A pound or two here or there is so little that I didn’t notice the subtle signs in the mirror. Even the smaller clothing sizes only count for so much. As a typical female, my wardrobe doesn’t consist of one size; we’re not so fortunate to have straightforward, objective numbers that correspond to clothing sizes like males do. In the past, I have had three different sizes being worn at the same time, all fitting identically but each brand choosing their own arbitrary classification for determining a size. And even with weighing less, I can still find my imperfections, so the different profile in a photograph still catches me by surprise.

At Halloween, a couple co-workers dressed up for a lunch potluck. I was helping one with her costume while someone else took photos. I wanted to see the photos later, and there was one of my back, adjusting a costume. My first thought was, “Wow! I’m skinny!” Pardon my vanity, but I’m still shocked at the transformation.

My older sister was married in February of 2008, and my dad was remarried this November 2009. While back home for my dad’s wedding, Eric stumbled upon a photo of me from my sister’s wedding, so I thought I’d offer a couple in comparison.

Here's the one of me in between bridesmaids being goofy while the bride and groom were photographed.

And here's one of Eric and me at my dad's wedding, deliberately trying to recreate the corny prom pose.

I couldn't find the exact one from my sister's wedding that Eric had referenced, but I think you get an idea of what a difference a year of weight loss makes.

Things That Make Me Happy

2009-10-30T17:33:00.001-04:00

Getting to run an errand across campus and enjoying all the fall colors and the fact that I didn't need a jacket. Creation is beautiful right now.

Watching someone on their bike riding one-handed while his other hand cradled a wrapped gift as a huge grin creased his face. His excitement was palpable.

Having someone tell me I looked stunning today at work. Today's wardrobe? Simple jeans and a sweater.

Finding a dress for my father's wedding on the first day of searching.

Anticipating a drive to Goshen tomorrow for a knitting retreat. Long, solo car rides are infrequent enough that it will be savored.

Deciding to participate in NaNoWriMo this year. A month of devoted writing sounds selfish, decadent, and exactly what I need.

The Panic Begins

2009-10-24T13:40:00.002-04:00

Today is October 24, and I have about two months before Christmas.

I've determined not to put up our tree this year. Augustine was a terror the first Christmas we had her, as she found it to be the ideal perch from which to peer out the window. We've steadily tried to break her of this habit, aided partially by moving the tree to the corner and not in front of the window, but Dante is a larger terror with more potential to scale the tree or topple it over, so I've decided to spare ourselves the headache of two cats sparring in our Christmas tree by keeping it in storage.

Plus, Dante sees it as his personal mission to scale every height in our house. He was found on top of a door earlier this week -- his weight made the door slowly inch shut, leading to The Great Fall. He's also on par to rival Clifford the Dog's size -- without leaving the ground, he can stretch to the top of our dining table, and he can "catch" the laser beam two-thirds up our basement wall.

Sorry for the cat sidetrack, but there you go.

Anyway, we have other ways of making our home feel festive, however minimally, so the nativity scene will get a place of prominence and we'll blast Christmas records, bake holiday cookies, and burn candles that smell of pine.

Now I don't tend to get caught up in the materialistic side of things, as Christmas was always a small family affair growing up. But now that many of us like to partake in homemade Christmas on my side of the family, I'm beginning to worry as I haven't yet begun on any of my projects. I think I've established what I'm making for the female contingent, as well as the nieces and nephew, although I don't have all the materials gathered yet. I'm just hoping that while I'm completing theirs, I will have an epiphany about what the perfect gifts will be for the guys. Maybe they will be equally satisfied with getting a toy identical to my nephew's?

People shouldn't read this as I'm dreading making things for my family, as it's not that at all. I tend to find great meaning in giving and receiving handmade items, but as the leaves are becoming vivid in color and clogging our sidewalks, and as the meteorologist are talking of a rain/snow mix for the weekend, it's setting in that Christmas is not far off.

Then and Now

2009-09-22T22:13:00.004-04:00

Per Rachel's request, here are some before and after photos. I had trouble finding a photo of just me, but here's one that was taken last November at the knitter's Christmas party. This was just a week or two before being diagnosed with insulin resistance.

And here is what a difference forty pounds make -- sorry for the head chop, but I'm not adept at taking my own picture. Besides being four sizes of clothes smaller (I know!), I particularly notice the change in my face when I compare it to my work ID or license. And looking at this, I notice I need to hem my pants.

So there you go! Don't you want to join me in my insulin-resistance diet? I'm on it forever!

I'll Take "Or Something" for $200, Alex

2009-09-15T22:33:00.004-04:00

I’ve now lost 40 pounds since Thanksgiving, and I admit I wonder when it will stop, although the end is in sight. It’s certainly not annoying me because I understand my body will eventually plateau once it feels I’ve reached a healthy point, but I feel like I keep buying clothes, but “nothing” ever fits.

My favorite reaction to the weight loss was when one of our students who had been pursuing medical school for a couple semesters came back to defend his thesis. I saw him in the hallways and he glanced at me blankly and then looked away. I wished him luck, and he did a double-take. He said, “Oh, I didn’t even recognize you. You changed your hair or something.”

One Year

2009-08-27T16:55:00.005-04:00

So today's one of those days where you don't know how to mark the passage of time. What's appropriate to honor a loved child all too soon gone?

One year has passed since having to say goodbye to our child. In a way, I'm amazed it didn't break us, and in a way, it's a relief. We made it past her original due date, and all the holidays without her, and what would have been her first birthday, and all the memories constantly coming to mind, and the frequent tears in private and in public, and we're still here. We feel as weak as all get out, but we made it through each day and we're both still here, both still together.

One year ago today, I was having an amazing morning. Although the doctors hadn't yet seen fit to discharge me, I started feeling more myself. The lethargy was still there, the dizziness, nausea, blurry vision, but my head wasn't as foggy as previous days and I could actually wear my glasses again with some success.

With my sister's aid, I was able to walk to the NICU, get a good report about Katherine from the nurses, and touch my little girl and get a glimpse of her eyes as she opened them. Everyone remained "cautiously optimistic," and that was catching. I was believing that this nineteen-ounce girl was our miracle child, serving as a testament to skilled doctors, advanced medicine, and a gracious God.

And no more than three hours later, we were being called back down, being asked to do what no parent should ever be asked. Take our child in our arms and say goodbye. The first time we held her was to watch as she left all too quickly.

I won't admit it's been easy. It's been a year of being fragile, feeling uncomfortable in large crowds, even when I know every individual. Fearing new relationships and casual conversations. Trying not to ask the impossible question of why. Allowing ourselves to be transparent when the need calls, and not feeling guilty when we find joy in life or when we need to distract ourselves from the pain.

I'm not sure how God is using this. And we will always miss our firstborn daughter. But scars and all, we made it.

Recently Finished Projects

2009-08-07T15:48:00.012-04:00

Even with the (infrequent) warm weather this summer, I've still found time to create. There have been a string of washcloths, as well as a cozy for my french press -- I suggest you keep your snide remarks to yourself, as my coffee stays warm longer now!

The main theme for the summer seems to be "small," due to both weather and portability issues. To the right is the baby vest "Pebble" (Ravelry link). It was made in June, as our knitting group had a knitalong where the theme was "baby." This pattern has been marinating in my queue for a while, and while using this yarn for my french press cozy, I realized it would also be ideal for the vest. Fortunately, I had enough yarn remaining to accomplish both.

I followed up Pebble with "Cabled Baby Vest" (Ravelry link). This was the first time I used Blue Sky Alpacas cotton, and I relished it. It's soft and in spite of the yarn being loosely plied so that it can easily split, the results are quite pleasing.

I also tackled this squid hat (long story, made for a friend of a friend) (Ravelry link). I wouldn't recommend the pattern for anyone unless they're a confident knitter good at troubleshooting. Since I've made hats before and have been knitting six years, I could tell early on when something wasn't clear or correct in the pattern, but it could be a frustrating venture for someone who needs straightforward directions.

And after a coworker knit several of them, I just had to make myself a striped fish (Ravelry link). Everyone should be so lucky to have one of these happy guys in their possession.

My youngest sister is in the middle of her week-long visit, and we're spending the time living life much as usual, albeit without having to go to work. She's acclimating back to the States after having been in China for nearly a month, and I'm doing my best to help by taking her to Harry Potter as well as indulging in general crafting and a possible trip to the beach.

Here is a dress made for a friend expecting a daughter at the end of the month (Ravelry link).

And I finally got around to sewing this picnic blanket. With 16-inch squares, it came together quickly, and other than the backing, embroidery floss, and curved needles, I had all the materials at the ready.

My favorite part, aside from the happy, mismatched squares all co-habitating together, may be the pockets in the corners on the back. The intent is to insert flat rocks to keep the blanket from blowing away.

Even with the fluctuating weather, not all of the summer has been spent indoors or with knitting in hand. Here's one of my short-lived beach creations.

Mere seconds after this photo was taken, we poured water in the moat and then giants crushed our city to pieces.

Our Furry Dependents

2009-07-31T21:36:00.007-04:00

Dante, while still quite skinny, has stretched out to the point that he is on track to be the length of a semi by the end of the summer. We had no illusions that he was a “pretty” cat when he came home with us, but his mangy coat has sleeked out with time, so he’s less homely than when we adopted him.

Now for his misbehaviors. He is teething, which means he will chew anything. He will wake me in the night (and get kicked out of the bedroom) for nibbling on my hair. Or Eric's nose. He will chew on mail or the covers of Eric’s books. He will crunch on wooden doorways or imperfections on our walls. He will gnaw on metal cabinet knobs, watering cans, wrought-iron furniture, and bases of rotary fans.

And he will crawl into small spaces – into baskets on shelves with little clearance, inside our recliners, underneath the nonexistent space below end tables, and in desk crannies.

While on my desk, he will cut across my laptop, or take a rest mid-keyboard, and his chance keystrokes have pulled up search boxes with the following terms: ‘apsodf’poi09888888888888asdffffffffffff.’ That file wasn’t found on my computer, much to his chagrin. I’m waiting for him to send an unintelligible email or delete my hard drive.

Our cats are still getting along as before. Dante acts as the stereotypical little brother, wanting to tag along and follow Augustine everywhere. When they come in from the screened-in porch, I still haven’t gotten over the fact that Dante will match his pace to hers as they trot down the stairs, only to pounce on her as they reach the bottom.

Augustine takes his play fighting in stride, but periodically we will hear a hiss from her when she’s had her fill or he’s being too aggressive. She won’t choose to sleep next to him, and she often takes his arrival as a sign that it’s time for her to leave – you can practically hear her sigh of disgust – but sometimes he’s caught snuggling up to her as she interrupts her nap to groom him.

And at least she hasn’t abandoned all of our rituals. For the first few weeks, she wouldn’t even cuddle with me if he was in the same room, but that has since resolved.

Dante is also acting as the bully, which doesn’t bode well since he’s already nearly her size. He will shove her away when treats enter the scene, and he’ll do his best to sabotage Augustine’s window lounging. But Augustine is deferential to him, whether out of her maternal nature or general exasperation.

Spinning Wheel Update

2009-07-17T17:18:00.000-04:00

I thought I’d update you to the status of my spinning wheel, as I realize you’ve all been holding your breath for word on its fate.

I chose to begin my search via Craigslist, posting a help wanted ad for a handyman/carpenter. A couple days went by with no word, then someone quoted me a price of $200 minimum to fix. His plan was to simply buy a part online and tweak it to my homemade wheel, which I could do myself. His grammar and non-existent punctuation didn’t go over well with this former English teacher, so when I asked about his experience and qualifications, he replied that his grandfather used to repair 18^th century furniture. I wanted to ask if his grandfather was still around to fix my wheel, but instead kindly thanked him for the quote and got rid of him by stating that wasn’t in my budget at this time.

Then someone who owned his own shop and was in possession of a couple spinning wheels contacted me. When I gave him specifics, he thought it might cost $50 to fix. He was hired!

Last month I dropped off my spinning wheel with him, and this week he sent me some progress photos that had me grinning happily as I envisioned spinning on my new wheel. I feel so fortunate to have found someone who knows what he is doing -- he’s asking me about the ratios I want! -- and takes pride in his work.

Also, as an added bonus, the spindle that you see there is one of twenty or thirty that came with the wheel, which means I can fill up as many as I need to before plying, and it was one less thing my handyman had to make.

I'm going to run to a local shop to pick up an Ashford maintenance kit and get the band and hooks to him, and I think we'll be in business before long.

Anniversary at the Fair, Part Two

2009-07-07T20:01:00.002-04:00

While taking in the local county fair (much more akin to what was available at our state fair than my small-town-Iowa experience), I was drawn to examining the 4-H projects.

Several categories were familiar to me, like sewing, photography, and baking (although the latter was enhanced with a "Microwave Foods" portion).

Woodworking was another familiar category. Look at this roll-top desk.

And this beautiful piece was another stellar example, although compared to my fair growing up, the woodworking entries were particularly sparse and small in scope. Word has it that the overall projects had decreased in number from past years, due to the early dates of the fair as well as the hurting economy.

But I was struck with the new (or new to me) categories. Take, for instance, "Scarecrow."

Or "Architectural Model." I chose my favorite instead of the random LEGO scenes that didn't make sense to me, although this one only warranted a red ribbon.

Here's an example of "Farm Toy Scenes."

And three "Gift Wrapping" examples.

Finally, our favorite category was "Recycling," where students repurposed broken or incomplete items. Here is a bureau transformed into a snake aquarium.

Eric enjoyed this purse made from records and lined with fabric inside.

I marveled at this paneled screen transformed into a puppet stage.

Are these categories new to you as well? Or is this where I learn my small 4-H chapter was keeping me in the dark when it came to nontraditional categories?

Anniversary at the Fair, Part One (or "I Like Ducks!")

2009-07-05T18:47:00.012-04:00

Today marks our sixth wedding anniversary, and it coincided with the local county fair, so we partook in the festivities.

Please enjoy my participation in one of the duck races. I volunteered at Eric's urging, but he didn't have to do much to convince me:

Since my duck won the race, I reprised my role in the finals round, but all I won in that race was the honor of being doused by the little girl next to me who was urging her duck on.

In my next post, I'll share some of my favorite 4-H project categories.

The Nancy Challenge

2009-06-13T21:06:00.001-04:00

I’m toying around with an unofficial challenge, spurred on by Liz’s example. She had purchased 10 knitting and crochet books and vowed to make at least one project from each before the end of 1000 days. I keep examining the books I gained from Rachel, and I’ve earmarked several projects out of each. I don’t know if I’ll end up making one out of each book, and some books will offer several projects I want to make, but I think it will average to around that. And I certainly won’t limit myself to 1000 days – some of these projects are pretty intense and this may keep me company for lo these many years. Nevertheless, I think this is a fitting tribute to Rachel entrusting me with these books that were treasured and put to good use by Nancy, a gifted knitter. In the spirit of naming this undertaking, it will be aptly called the Nancy Challenge.

I started a child’s sweater out of Alice Starmore’s Celtic Collection, but after getting about five inches into the front panel, I am going to rip out. Turns out that I didn’t like the complementary color I spontaneously grabbed. The blue base with the white accent was too dated for my tastes, so I quickly knit up a green baby sweater so I knew how much of that yarn was leftover if I choose to stick with using a complementary color instead of switching to all blue. Turns out there’s plenty remaining, and the green should do a better job of blending with the blue.

Here’s a preview of that project with the old blue and white colors:

And here’s the green sweater I made so I could snatch the leftover yarn:

I’m also contemplating what solid color to use for the lacy Latvian socks in the Folk Socks book. I will also tackle the striped Guernsey ones so they can serve as a reminder of the delightful Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society book I so enjoyed this spring.

I don’t think I’m doing too badly – three concrete projects from two books already decided, albeit still not cast on.

Wordless Wednesday

2009-06-10T22:35:00.001-04:00

Wordless Wednesday

2009-06-03T20:27:00.002-04:00

A Knitting Update

2009-06-02T23:16:00.002-04:00

I’ve shirked a knitting update, but I have been busily working away on various projects in the background.

After my Minnesota trip, Liz surprised me with a sock-knitting book in the mail, one that I’d been drooling over: Wendy Johnson’s Socks from the Toe Up. I’ve already finished my first pair from the book, using Louet Fingering Gems yarn from that recent trip and in the process tried out three new techniques detailed therein.

First, there was a new provisional cast-on for the toe. Up to this point, whenever I’d made a toe-up pair, I’d been dependent on the ever popular short-row toe, but Wendy detailed a new way to create gussets and turn the heel (my second new technique). And when I reached the top, there was a new bind-off technique, one which had use knit 1, purl 1 ribbing, then separate the stitches onto two separate needles and graft to finish. The first two were very useful, but I think I still prefer the sewn bind-off. It seems to boast more stretch, as well as requiring less preparatory work beforehand.

However, I will say that Wendy is very clear in her explanations. I’d encountered the above-mentioned bind-off in another pattern, but there were no accompanying photos and the description seemed awkward, so I avoided trying it. This book has several socks that I’d like to try, as well as another heel. And the photos are generous, showing several large color pictures from various angles for each and every pattern.

Here is my finished pair of socks from the Diamond Gansey pattern in the book, informally called the Liz Socks since the book and yarn hold memories of my trip.

It seems appropriate to showcase these socks now in Liz's honor since she is getting married this weekend, and I won't be able to attend. Instead, I will be touching base with old high-school friends at my reunion and sending all my wishes for wedded bliss her way. I feel blessed for my friends, both old and new -- it's a shame I haven't yet discovered how to be in two different parts of the country at the same time.

Book Recommendations

2009-05-27T17:13:00.004-04:00

When it comes to books, I tend to gravitate to enjoying the classics. I’ll read recent works, but the details and background given in classics satisfy my desire to get inside everyone’s heads to learn their motivations.

However, in the last couple months, several of the recently published books I’ve read have been quite delightful. I’ll be brief, as I prefer to know as little as possible when beginning a new book, but I hope one of these might tempt you. Here they are, beginning with the most enjoyable.

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows
This was by far my favorite. I had to read an excerpt based on the title alone, and then I was hooked. The majority of the book is composed of letters among the protagonist (an author) and others in the period shortly after World War II. By happenstance she begins corresponding with a number of Guernsey islanders about their experiences during WWII while they were closed off from war communications. The final section of the book deviates from the epistle format; while I understood the reasoning for this, I preferred the former exchanges. I tend to write down favorite lines and passages I come across, and this had a number, testifying to the authors’ skills to perfectly capture the way things are. The characters are endearing and believable and filled with life.

A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini
It can’t hold a candle to The Kite Runner, but it affected me more profoundly, if that can be. The experiences of the women in Afghanistan through the regime changes are detailed, as well as their loss of freedoms and how others manipulated this for their own aims. It’s a depressing read, but I didn’t feel patronized with a manufactured happy ending.

The Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet by Jamie Ford
This is the story of a friendship between a Chinese-American boy and a Japanese-American girl, beginning around Pearl Harbor and continuing through internment camps and beyond.

Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri
I enjoyed Lahiri’s earlier work The Namesake, so that led me to pick up this book of short stories. Some are more gripping than others, but I appreciate Lahiri’s rhythm and the accounts aren’t formulaic. I respect an author who doesn’t shy away from portraying realistic endings.

Still Alice by Lisa Genova
The verdict is not yet in on this one. It’s the account of a woman diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s and the transformations in her family relationships as her condition worsens. I haven’t been gripped yet, and I’m a third in, but it hasn’t been discarded either.

The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls
If you humor me to jump back to books I read last summer, I also recommend this memoir that’s depressing and redemptive all in one go. I might rank this one highest of all, but it’s hard to compare memoirs to novels since their motivations are so different. Walls has experienced quite the life and yet it didn’t break her. Frustrating and hard for me to read, but valuable and one that has stuck with me.

The Last Lecture by Randy Pausch
And another short memoir from last summer was one that has made the rounds. I cried throughout as I read his account of facing death and coming to terms of preparing for his imminent departure from his wife and young kids. He sprang to stardom after his lecture of the same name made the rounds on YouTube, and this book was borne from that response.

If you’ve read any good books lately, do share. I’m always interested in discovering new ones to read.

Introducing Dante

2009-05-15T17:40:00.004-04:00

Every Christmas, my sister’s and her husband’s cats repeatedly act out the various scenario with Augustine.

Juris and Asher: Wow, we’re so glad you’re here! We’ll be happy to show you the best places to hunt for crickets or spiders, and the window ledges are really wide, which is great for watching everything going on outdoors. Speaking of that, sometimes there’s this cat that comes in the afternoon to see us, and we’re friends, and we watch for her and talk through the window at her, and you might get to meet her. And you can have some of our food and water -- can we have some of yours? -- and we’ll show you how to meow through the doors when everyone is upstairs and…

Augustine: I’m going to hiss at you through this door and hide under the bed, okay? Please don’t try to come after me, or I will be forced to swat my paw at you.

Juris and Asher: Ooh, you have a litter box – can we see?! And then we’ll show you the best closets for exploring and there’s a really awesome jungle gym we play on and there are some really comfortable chairs and couches and then this bed is great for sleeping on and we’d also like to smell you and let you join in our chasing games and chewing on ribbons and bows and…

Augustine: Get thee behind me, Satan!

Lest you think I jest, I offer into evidence the following photo of the first Christmas Augustine met Juris.

Finally, this past year, she started warming up to them, insofar as she could lay on the floor in the same room as them without having a panic attack every single moment.

Is now the proper time to tell you we adopted a new kitten? Yes, we’re gluttons for punishment, but we had been considering a second pet and we saw a sappy news story about how people were being forced to give up their pets during this trying economic time because they couldn’t afford to feed them. So we decided we could certainly feed an additional cat, and Augustine has gotten a little [ahem, quite] portly seemingly overnight, so forced exercise might be a convenient bonus.

We scoured Petsmart and the representatives plying their animals from various shelters, all while trying to decide which feline would freak out Augustine the least. We were leaning towards a male because they seem more agreeable, and age was a strong factor. We hypothesized a small kitten would be perceived by Augustine as less threatening than a peer would have been; her maternal instinct might kick in, or more likely, she could smack him around to let him know the pecking order. I’m sure the cute factor played no part in our decision-making; it was all purely logical because I am a philosopher’s wife and that’s the way I roll.

Enter Dante from a local humane society. Dante is about nine weeks old and weighs two pounds. He’s a sweet, affectionate little guy (Eric’s favorite part). He’s quiet (my favorite part). And he’s polydactyl (our veterinarian’s favorite part). The jury is still out about his response to yarn, although early indications are not promising. There will be continued interventions on this front.

We brought him home and kept him quarantined for just over a week until he got a clean bill of health from our veterinarian. During that time, there arose minimal hissing and growling from Augustine, but they sniffed at each other through the closed door, and later through a screen of sorts that allowed them to see each other.

I hardly dare suggest that they’re friends since it’s been a mere three days of exposure, but the drama has been nonexistent. Augustine has been caught grooming Dante (I know!), and they’ll sleep near each other (more Dante’s doing than Augustine’s). I think it’s safe to say we dodged a bullet. I had prepared myself for months of fighting and animosity, and given Augustine’s prior behavior with Juris and Asher, that was a safe assumption, so you can understand why we’re still in shock that it’s been so anticlimactic.

Eight Months Later

2009-05-05T22:20:00.007-04:00

While the pain is still deep, the tears are less frequent now. I think several things have alleviated my suffering, a couple of which I’ll mention here.

One, I was in such a cloud for the entirety of my hospital stay that the experience is this hazy memory. I think I got a total of a (very short) row and a half knit on the first day of bedrest, but my eyesight was such that knitting and reading were out of the question. I dictated work and personal emails to Eric and the TV gave constant coverage of the political scene during the primaries. If I didn’t have evidence of fading stretch marks or the pregnancy experience in general, I would hardly trust my memories. I guess that’s one grace of having been so sick, but there is an irrational part of me that wishes I had been more alert so I could have capitalized on every moment of Katherine's life instead of being unable to control my exhaustion. I understand my body was just trying to recover from the surgery-preeclampsia-HELLP Syndrome trifecta, but the feeling is there.

Two, since Katherine was never brought home, in one sense our house was never touched by her presence. There are memories everywhere – the overflowing box of cards, Julie’s painting, the photos of her and the prints of her hands and feet, small items of clothing both purchased and knit. But there aren’t the memories of crawling out of bed to tend to her cries or holding her as she slept. No memories of her nursing or of introducing her to Augustine or changing soiled diapers.

Just these disjointed, foggy memories of her birth and that beautiful wail she let out as she tested her newfound lungs. Memories of first being wheeled down to the NICU, then trying my legs at walking. Memories of sitting by the side of her incubator and talking to her as I stroked her frail body. Memories of pumping and Eric or Heather running the collection tubes down to her. Memories of the nurses or Eric updating me to her steady progress, then the memories of holding my little girl as she left this world.

Some nights, though, as Augustine comes looking to cuddle with me as I drift off to sleep, I cradle her little ten-pound form in my right arm just so – exactly as she insists – and as she settles down and lays her head onto my chest or against my neck, my throat turns raw and my face constricts as I think about how I wished I were instead cradling my precious daughter.

A Weekend in the Twin Cities

2009-04-29T18:02:00.008-04:00

This past weekend consisted of a whirlwind trip to and from the Twin Cities. Late Friday night, Liz met me at the airport, and we spent the next few hours driving and talking into the night.

Caffeine did its part in our trip Saturday as we woke up after four hours of sleep to wander some yarn shops in the Twin Cities.

I did my best to dissuade myself from impulse purchases by trolling Ravelry beforehand and running some advanced searches within my library and my queue for projects that took 750 yards or less of yarn. With that list, I tried to focus and commit each yarn purchase to a specific project.

First stop, Three Kittens. This is where the infamous milk yarn and corn yarn could be found. I bought a skein of each, even without projects in mind. After all, when fiber is made from foodstuffs, it’s practically written that thou must buy. Furthermore, these are what all those “One Skein” books were written for.

Second stop, the Yarnery. Our steps quickened once we saw the “SALE” banner out front. All yarn was twenty percent off, some thirty-five percent off. Those discounts made it easy to pick up some sock yarn as well as some yarn for a baby sweater.

Third stop, Borealis Yarns. This place had some drool-worthy yarns, but I was starting to be overwhelmed. They had some beautiful roving, but with a non-functional wheel, it was easy to avoid that purchase.

Only after much deliberation did I settle on some more Cascade 220, this time for a sweater from a book given to me by a dear friend from high school.

I hadn’t yet shared here the windfall of some amazing books. This fall an old high-school friend offered to let me look through her mother’s knitting books and adopt what I wanted. Her mother was an amazing knitter, particularly specializing in sweaters. I felt so honored to be given stewardship over these books – they’re my own connection to Nancy’s memory. I am now in possession of some Kaffe Fossett, Alice Starmore, Meg Swanson, Barbara Walker, and others. And while I can’t promise I will go to the extent that Liz did to commit to make something from every single book I own, I vow to familiarize myself with them enough and try to come close.

Anyway, back to our trip. By early afternoon, we were spent, both fiscally and physically. So away we drove, Liz dreaming of which projects she was going to cast on within moments of walking in the door, and me berating myself for having no extra needles, thus subjecting myself to working on one of my (three) in-progress projects. Good conversation, barbecue, and coffee continued into Sunday.

Sunday morning, after experiencing some torrential rains, we found my sister, and the second part of my visit commenced. I was able to visit her church and meet some of her good friends, followed by helping her in the studio on her sculpture project. This involved me helping her stir and pour two hundred pounds of concrete.

Then she later dropped me off at the house for the third and final part of my visit. Another friend had offered to let me crash at their place since they’re not far from the airport, thus making my mid-day return that much easier. We spoke a few hours, until society dictated we turn in for the night. I spent a couple leisurely hours with their darling dog the next day before starting my journey home.

First off, I feel I should give a defense for finding the need to include three different knitting projects on a trip of less than 72 hours duration. But each served its purpose, as my fellow knitting readers know. First was the lacy drop-stitch scarf, fairly mindless but the thinness of the fiber made it fiddly and not the best choice during the turbulent flights. Second was the garter-rib sock, truly mindless. Third was the faux-cable sock, which allowed me a little mental engagement. However, the latter required me to follow a chart, and while I wanted to make progress during the weekend, I didn’t want to have to spread out on the airplane, especially if I had neighbors who wouldn’t appreciate my set-up.

In addition to sharing time on three different knitting projects, I read a couple books on my trip. I made progress on Jhumpa Lahiri’s Unaccustomed Earth and I finished Jamie Ford's Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet. Again, like my yarn defense, I need to be prepared in the literary realm for whatever mood might strike me (I’m hoping you’ve all forgotten that I have nearly 30 unabridged volumes on my iPod, but those are all classics, and sometimes a girl’s gotta read a book written in her lifetime).

All in all, a successful and rewarding trip.

Still Spinning

2009-04-13T17:58:00.008-04:00

Quick update on the wheel. I basically have two options.

One, find someone to make a flyer for my wheel. Not very difficult for a carpenter, and if we were closer to home I would try to enlist my father in this project, but this is unlikely since we’re separated by a couple states and I don’t know any woodworkers here in the area.

Two, buy a flyer kit (then the next decision is which type: jumbo flyer, lace flyer, or standard flyer) and tweak my wheel to make it work. Not too daunting, but requiring a little time and money, so that’s going to go on hold until I can decide what I want. Ideally, someone would have an unused flyer kit to sell cheap, but I’m guessing this is also unlikely.

So while those ideas marinate, I’ll show off my newest work. First, I finished spinning singles of my brown BFL and then I made a yarn cake with my yarn ball winder.

Aubrey demonstrated how she plies from a yarn ball. Under her tutelage, I plied and my result was 64 yards of my beautiful two-ply yarn. I still need to wash it to set the twist, but I think I will do so in the coming days.

If you needed further evidence of my growing addiction, over the long Easter weekend, I spun up eight ounces of roving (hand-dyed BFL in the “As Above, So Below” colorway, also from Crown Mountain Farms).

Here’s the before shot of the roving.

And the singles on the spindle.

Finally, the plied yarn, which is just over 215 yards.

The colors are beautiful. Spinning it, I was enamored with the subtle changes from dark greens to aquas and then blues and milder greens. Once you ply it together, though, it becomes more uniform in color. While I haven’t yet measured, it looks like it’s worsted weight, but it’s growing ever thinner – and more consistent – and I haven’t given up hope of creating some sock yarn down the road.

Alas, I have come to a predictable end. My time with the borrowed wheel is in the home stretch, and I am out of roving, unless I count the cashmere-merino blend I was reserving for a pair of thrummed mittens.

A Wheel of My Own

2009-04-08T18:55:00.007-04:00

I admit that when I first get something in my head, it consumes me. This is true for knitting, sewing, life in general. That is why it was dangerous to get these spinning lessons and borrow a friend’s wheel. As I began to understand the process and feel more comfortable, I really got excited about the prospect of owning a wheel of my own.

And that’s where the problem came in. Spinning wheels aren’t cheap. I’m borrowing a used wheel that was found on ebay for $150, and that was a great deal. Buying new can easily be over $400, especially if you want the wood to be finished.

And I’m impatient. I recognize patience is a virtue, and I do display a modicum in other areas of life, but delayed gratification is tough when it comes to hobbies. However, much as I wanted to go charge one and do my part to single-handedly turn our economy around, I was ready to buckle down and start saving up for a spinning wheel, which meant sometime this late summer or fall I would be the proud new owner.

I should also add that if you ever cross paths with me on any casual level, you’re likely to know my reigning passion. It goes something like this:

You: Um, could I get help registering?

Me: [shoving my knitted socks or handing you my spindle of newly spun yarn] Thanks for asking about this! I just knit/spun this up! I’m so excited!

Anyway, rewind to Friday. It was no surprise that my coworkers were familiar with my current obsession with spinning. One of them, K, attends auctions. She and her husband find ones that offer items of interest to both of them. She likes the fabric, yarn, sewing machines and kitchen items, and he goes for the power tools. She told me about one of Saturday’s auctions was slated to please them both. There in the list of items were three simple, glorious words: wood spinning wheel.

She said since they were already attending, she’d be happy to bid on it if I gave her what to look for and a top price limit I’d be willing to pay. I was ecstatic. Here I was, drafting some items to guide her, someone with absolutely no idea on what to look for in a wheel (i.e., where I was just a month ago).

She knew the auctioneer and I called to see if it would be possible to get a photo before Saturday. He didn’t have access to the storage facility until 7 AM the following day, but he did tell me he thought the wheel was not an antique and was functional. He speculated it was going to go for around $20-30, which made me think he didn’t know what he was talking about since some people troll auctions looking for long-forgotten spinning wheels.

So Saturday I waited expectantly, since K had both my home and cell numbers. I was all excited when the home number rang – most friends and family call our cell. It was a survey.

A couple hours later, she did call. She said it looked like it worked, but she couldn’t find an identifying brand on it anywhere, perhaps revealing that it was handmade. She added that it looked like a photo of an Ashford Elizabeth that I had sent her with, but she wasn’t sure she should have spent as much as she did given the condition. My stomach tightening with the prospect of paying way too much for a nonfunctional wheel, I asked what she paid. She laughed, since she had me going. A whopping five dollars. The auctioneer started at $35, and with no bids, he kept lowering the starting bid. When he reached ten, K offered $5, and no one else countered, so it was mine! Beforehand, she had also noticed a box of 30 spindles and other accessories that she informed them belonged with the spinning wheel, so she thought I should be completely set.

She brought one of the spindles in to work to show me, and it was much smaller than I expected and was missing the groove I was used to seeing on the other wheels. However, I’m most interested in spinning thin yarn, so even filling one of these, while not as accommodating as a full-size spindle, might still have yielded decent yardage.

I took ownership of the spinning wheel Monday evening. Immediately I noticed that it was missing the flyer (the object that connects to the wheel via a band and as you pedal, it turns and wraps the yarn onto the bobbin), and I strongly suspect the 30 small bobbins I have don’t go with the spinning wheel.

Since it appears to be a homemade wheel, I’m bringing it to my weekly knitting group tonight to take it under advisement. There will be up to three other spinners present that can let me know if we can redeem it. The wheel has a slight wobble, but it treadles smoothly and I suspect once the band is attached to the flyer, the tension will eliminate the slight turn. I’m hoping after taking measurements of a friend’s similar wheel that I will be able to buy replacement parts from Ashford (uprights, flyer, bobbins, new band, and if absolutely necessary, a maiden bar with knobs).

One of the reasons I am considering buying Ashford replacement parts instead of finding someone to make the necessary pieces is that I absolutely love the Ashford wheels, and perhaps someday in the future I will find myself the proud owner of one. In that case, I could use the bobbins/additional flyers as interchangeable pieces.

So right now, my spinning wheel is a beautiful antique of original workmanship. I am able to use my friend’s wheel for a couple more weeks before she moves, and then I hope I won’t have to wait too long – or spend too much – before making mine functional.

I’ll try to update with the verdict on my wheel sometime later this week, as well as show off my first plied yarn (to be accomplished tonight).

Spinning Into Spring

2009-04-05T17:11:00.007-04:00

I've learned it's dangerous to say definitive statements like the following: "I will never be interested in learning to spin. I am completely satisfied buying ready-to-knit yarn and not messing around with the expense of purchasing a spinning wheel and then all the roving, adding yet one more step before I get to pull out my needles to cast on a new project."

Someone out there likes to see me eat my words. Sort of like how I once wrote, about three years to the day before our wedding, how Eric and I would never get together, because nice as he was, I just didn't see anything coming from our friendship and he was too smart for me, but I digress.

It started slowly. I read several knitting blogs, and all at once, it seemed, they were showing the before and after photos. Before, images of the roving in wild, vibrant colors. After, the less intense colors of the beautiful, plied yarn. The transformation was amazing.

Add to that, I have three friends with spinning wheels. While I didn't ever see them spin until recently, they all talked of the relaxation it brought them.

While at K's house for dinner a month back, I asked to see her wheel since I hadn't set eyes on it before, and she spun a quick bit, then made a dangerous comment. She offered to loan me her wheel for a few weeks to get a feel for it before their pending move. First, I wrote it off -- I'm busy, I'm not interested in spinning, I don't want to think about buying a wheel if I love it and add yet one more hobby. But the idea marinated and grew more and more attractive, and next thing I knew, I found myself at her place a couple weeks back, getting my first lesson.

I was terrible. I overspun the roving so it was kinking up on itself, not feeding onto the spindle without a fight. I admit that the frustration level was borderline. Creative things happen for me without too much trouble. I like challenge, I don't like constant failure. So there was some bit of me that was comfortable writing off spinning. After all, I gave it a shot and it didn't take. I could check it off my list of creative pursuits and put it out of my head forever.

Then A gave me another lesson last week. And it started to click. I was steady with the treadle, and I understood how my foot and hands were supposed to be working together.

However, I did tell A that as attractive as the idea of spinning was to me, I was almost to the point of being okay writing it off and being satisfied that I didn't have to start saving up for a wheel, and darn her for changing my mind.

You start with something called roving, which looks like this:

Then you thin it out and put in a twist. Here's some of my early stuff while A was guiding me -- notice the thick and thin inconsistencies. We're talking thin as dental floss in some spots and thick as your pinky in others. I'm told to celebrate this now, since once I get better, I won't be able to recreate this. I think this is only about 20 yards.

After my coffee-shop lesson, I went home with the roving A gave and spun up the next batch. I ended up with about 50-yards worth, much more consistent and more of a worsted weight, although the twist is more definite in some areas than in others.

Then I was ready to move on to some of the black blue face leicester from Crown Mountain Farms that I had treated myself to. It was inexpensive but oh, so soft.

I'm a little over half done with the four ounces, and it's my best yet:

It's thin and fairly consistent, and I can't wait to finish and double-ply it, which should be in the next couple days.

So there you have it. The story of how I went from absolutely not considering the idea of spinning to how I am anticipating a wheel of my very own. That's another story, though. (Stay tuned for later this week.)

People have been asking if I will get sheep next. No.

I can honesty say that, at present, the interest to take the fiber directly from the animal -- even an animal I didn't care for -- and then have to still clean and card it before it would be in a state to be spun is not at all there, and the thought of the added steps does not appeal to me.

But we know what happens when I speak in firm, declarative statements, so I'll try to keep my mouth shut.

Thursday Potpourri

2009-03-26T18:50:00.007-04:00

This post is composed of unrelated, random stories, so I won't even pretend to tie them together.

My Health
Back in February when I had my appointment, my doctor wanted to run some blood work to have concrete, post- insulin- resistance- diagnosis numbers. Physically, it was clear that I’d found a balance because at that point I’d lost 20 pounds, but he wanted to see the same tests from November run again to make sure the numbers reflected my outward success.

A couple weeks back, I had a message from my doctor that my results had come in and everything was “much improved,” end of call. That wasn’t satisfactory at all, so I called back the next day to hear specifics. I was floored. My cholesterol, already under 200 in November, dropped 72 points. My insulin level, which should be under 10, went from 8.8 to 1.8. My fasting glucose went from 112 to 91. And on and on. It was very gratifying to learn of those results and to have another marker that things were progressing very positively.

My Hobbies
Along with being strict about my dietary restrictions (I only deviate for communion and, last Friday, for a lone strawberry someone offered – the latter sure made me feel guilty!), I’m continuing with knitting and sewing projects. One of my friends had created a cute little bag pattern, and I purchased it from her. I’ve now made four bags, and a couple of them are holding small knitting projects. They’re quick to whip up and they help organize the small projects that I’m simultaneously working on. Now it’s just a matter of which bag to grab rather than constantly throwing individual projects in and out as my whims change.

My Family
My nieces and nephews are all growing up, and on my side, it’s getting to the point that I can understand my sister’s oldest, and sometimes the two oldest, over the phone. Plus, Big Sister has now sent me an email and a text message, which both amuse me to no end. I get a huge grin whenever I see I have an incoming message from her.

I thought I’d share a cute story.

I was speaking with my father a couple weeks back. Since my sister is often at work by her children’s bedtime, my father tucks them in.

Every night before bed they like to pray. From oldest to youngest, they tend to stick to their familiar recitals.

K, the timid second-grader, often prays the following: “Dear God, please don’t give me scary dreams tonight, just good dreams."

Then comes R, not far from starting school: “Please make Mommy be okay, and Daddy, and Chloe [former dog], and Grandpa, and let us see Chloe again, and…”

Finally, the youngest, C, closes with his unintelligible mumbling. He would happily pray all night, but one of two things tends to happen; either Grandpa is forced to eventually cut in with a gentle word of, “That’s enough – God’s ready to hang up now!”, or R suddenly exclaims, “Christian, don’t pray for cookies!"

Not Me! Monday

2009-03-09T22:23:00.010-04:00

I stumbled upon a new blog a month back when a friend joined the Not Me! Monday experiment. The goal is to pretend you didn't do what you did indeed do, even confess something by claiming you didn't.

So here are the things I certainly did not do this past week.

I did not get the nerve to travel Washington, D.C. on my own for a couple days while Eric was in a conference, and I certainly didn't use the Metro multiple times, exploring several museums and a yarn shop.

I was not in awe of "Ghost Clock" at the Renwick Gallery, since carving wood to look like a sheet draped over a grandfather clock is not all that impressive.

Since I grabbed a map when I entered Arlington, I didn't get lost when trying to catch the changing of the guard, because I wouldn't cut such a somber event so close.

I did not go to the top of the Washington Monument and take numerous photos from every direction.

And since I mailed a quick note to my mom before we left town, I certainly wouldn't see the need to mail her two postcards and a card while in DC.

And now that I'm home, I don't have achy joints after wandering around for two days in a row for about fourteen hours total.

And for the 72 hours I was gone, I did not feel guilty for leaving my cat alone, stocked with food, water, and a clean litter box. Because there was no guilt, I absolutely did not call our home -- twice -- to talk to her through the answering machine.

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. You can head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have not been doing this week.

Waiting Rooms

2009-03-03T21:05:00.001-05:00

I had some blood drawn this weekend. Back in October or November, I had some drawn, and they want to measure my fasting blood sugar now to compare it to that earlier reading.

So Saturday morning, I awoke and went to the center. Naturally, there was a long wait, as everyone else decided not to miss work and get it completed on a weekend. I was there nearly two hours, but I had some knitting to occupy me, so beyond some periodic grumblings from my stomach, I was content.

I was amused by a four-year-old boy there with his mother. He was being silly with the toys, so in an attempt to calm him down, his mother tried to engage him by looking through a Highlights magazine. He was game, counting things for her and asking questions. This was happening in the background of my knitting, and I was catching snippets. Suddenly he piped up, “This page is for coloring. Where are the crayons?”

When none were to be found, he hopefully exclaimed, “Maybe I have crayons in my pocket!” He earnestly dug his hand down, only to emerge empty. Despondently he said, “No crayons.” Then he brightened up: “Maybe I have crayons in my other pocket!” Again, the ritual of shoving a hand down, only to emerge empty yet again. “No crayons. I wish I had crayons,” as he threw himself down in a chair.

I tried to hide my amusement at his antics. After all, perhaps it was commonplace for him to shove crayons in his pockets, but I like to imagine that he thought willing them to be there was enough to make it so.

Later on, he walked around with a large book balanced on his head, declaring, “I have a hat that looks like a book!”

I wanted to pull out my hat and reply, “I have a book that looks like a hat,” but I didn’t want to scare him off.

My Insulin-Resistance Dietary Basics

2009-02-19T21:07:00.003-05:00

I've mentioned briefly my diagnosis of insulin resistance. Yesterday was my first appointment since being diagnosed in late November. In that time, I've officially lost 20 pounds by following the guidelines my doctor laid before me. Eric asked my doctor when he thought I might plateau out, and he said he could see me still dropping even more weight, perhaps up to another 15 to 20 pounds. My husband claims his interest was solely to learn when he should give me the blank check to replace my wardrobe -- perhaps not until May -- but I digress.

Since some have asked, here are the basics given my insulin resistance. The numbers I list are specific for me after my doctor examined my bloodwork, so my protein-to-carb ratio may not be the same as yours if your doctor put you on something like this. I should also give the disclaimer that since I am not a doctor, if you're serious about following something like this, talk to your doctor and get tested to see if you would even need to make such concessions.

- Eat as many non-starchy vegetables as you want (the big three starchy ones are peas, corn, and my beloved potatoes)
- Dairy products are fine (this doesn’t include things like chocolate milk and ice cream because of the sugars, but I have found a couple low-carb ice creams that meet my requirements)
- Never eat carbohydrates on their own; they must be accompanied by at least 1 gram of protein for every 2 grams of carbohydrates
- No more than 30 carbohydrates in a two-hour period
- I think I’m supposed to shoot for about 120-130 grams of protein each day, but I haven’t been monitoring this amount (I believe the average is typically around 60-70 grams)
- Fiber is good. On the nutritional label, the fiber and sugar alcohol amounts can be subtracted from the total carbohydrate number (sugar alcohol isn’t completely absorbed, so it’s not often factored into the net carb number, although if you were really strict, you could count half of the sugar alcohol grams towards the total)

And there you go. There can be more details (limit things like nuts, eggs, etc. and other fatty proteins so cholesterol doesn’t go crazy), but these are the basics I’ve been following pretty religiously since Thanksgiving.

My doctor was impressed with my success, but I should add that I had the motivation since I have a lot on the line; when I've described my routine to friends who were intrigued about the weight loss, several realized they don't themselves have the self-control. I don't want my condition to develop into something like Type II Diabetes, and I wouldn't want to have to suddenly get in line should I become pregnant in the future, so my incentives are pretty strong.

On that last note, he said given my strict adherence, he would have no qualms encouraging us in a future pregnancy, provided we were emotionally ready (and provided we allowed 12-18 months to ensure that my body has completely healed from surgery). We're not at either point yet, but I was buoyed after my appointment, grateful to see my hard work had paid off.

It's still intriguing to me that I should be losing weight by eating what I take to be the same caloric content, or sometimes more so (instead of an apple by itself, I have to add string cheese, for instance). My doctor doesn't care about the weight loss, other than as proof that I'm following the guidelines. But I see it as evidence that I have this figured out, and I've made it a daily habit.

And so that I'm sure I'm not in a position to be faced with an unhealthy amount of carbohydrates without protein, I've taken to carrying edamame, peanuts, and/or protein bars in my purse (yes, currently all three have residence, and for a day, they even had wheat nuts as company).

So now you're informed, but I don't expect you to follow suit; I probably wouldn't have had the self-control before I had my insulin-resistance diagnosis. In fact, the first week, all I could think about was all the carbohydrates I was missing and wanting.

If you're interested in learning more, the South Beach Diet book (Phases 2 and 3 rather than 1) and the Insulin-Resistance Diet book are decent resources.