Greta's Newest Friends

Greta & Maddie, our neighbor's new puppy. She surprisingly seemed unphased by the needle-sharp puppy teeth that gnawed on her little fingers and ears. Greta & Her Cousin, Ella -- They're just getting to the age where they're interested in each other and are starting to play with one another. Here they are having a bake-off, showing the other who's the better chef.
Greta & Mama's Friend, Paula -- This is one of my friends that I don't see often enough, but when I do, I feel like we just pick up right where we last left off. I was so excited for Greta to meet her. I want Greta to grow up learning that friends like Paula are priceless!

Things to Do

I'm behind on quite a few things... Need to:

1. Finish writing thank you notes for Greta's birthday gifts
2. Blog about Greta's birthday
3. Post photos of Greta digging into cake
4. Blog about so many other things
5. Stop spending time making lists of what I need to do and instead just DO some of those things on the things to do list.

Home

This hallway -- it leads to the special care nursery at Missouri Baptist. After having Greta, I remained in the hospital for about a week while the doctor's worked on getting my blood pressure under control. Post-C-section, I slowly walked it multiple times a day to visit Greta. I was in a lot of pain from having my abs cut open and reassembled, but I would have ran this hallway, if I had to. It was like a race, and the prize awaiting at the end was far better than any gold medal or other honor.


This evening marks a year to the date, that I walked this long hallway for the last time.


Here we are, outside the hospital just before going to pick up Greta to bring her home!It was Sunday, July 20, 2008. I HAD to take my notorious "self-portrait" because I just HAD to document us as just two. In just a short time, we'd be three. We were so darn giddy that we were bringing home our baby!


A year ago tonight, we disconnected all the wires and monitors that Greta had been attached to for 14 days.



We carefully dressed her in a tiny preemie outfit about the size of Eric's hand. She didn't even weigh 5 pounds. We packed up all her little things, and we prayed she wouldn't cry on the ride home. (She didn't). I yelled at Eric the entire ride home. Of course. I sat in the back seat with Greta. I kept telling Eric to slow down. And to drive better. WE HAD A BABY IN THE CAR, DAMNIT.

Our camera broke while we were at the hospital packing up Greta. Anyone who knows me and how obsessed I am with photography knows that put me in a little tizzy.

Luckily, just before calling it quits, the camera went out with a bang. Here's one of my favorite photos of my entire life.

This message is scattered because I've written it so quickly. I've got a beautiful baby sleeping in her crib and a husband out on our deck, who is waiting with wine and cheese so that we can celebrate our little family at home.

Happy Birthday, Greta

Greta turned one today. It was a beautiful day and we celebrated lots. I'm too tired to write anything meaningful right now, so instead, I'm going to share a poem of sorts that I found in a scrapbooking store a few months ago. (It's by Creative Imaginations.) Until I can piece together a better entry, I think this says it perfectly...

Dear You,

Your story is one which starts at home in the hearts that love you.

On this special day, you entered the world.

The beginning of the first chapter in which your novel begins.

All the paths of your future and your past began on this day.

This day is dedicated to you and your life.

On this day, we reminisce and relive the special moments along the way as part of who you are.

We loved you instantly, yet more strongly with every minute that passes.

So it is with joy and celebration that we embrace this day and celebrate the journey of who you are and who you dream to become.

Most of all we are thankful for the gift of you.

Happy birthday!


Happy birthday, baby girl. Thank you for the best year of my life!

When It All Started

Today marked one year since I was admitted to the antepartum unit and placed on hospital bedrest. July 3, 2008. My blood pressure was out of control and my doctors wanted to monitor me and the baby.

I remember going to the ob's office that morning for a routine 33-week appointment. I was really swollen and was sick of going to work and being uncomfortable. At that time, I didn't realize that the reason I felt so crappy was because I had preeclampsia. I secretly hoped that upon examining my tight, swollen skin on my legs and (c)ankles, my doctor would tell me I couldn't return to work. (I hated my job.)

Never did I expect that instead the doctors would insist I go down a floor and be admitted into the hospital. To say the least, it was a stressful time. I didn't cry because, to be honest, I was in shock more than I was in fear. Complete shock. I wasn't supposed to be having a baby until August 18th.

A couple times today as I was busy making decorations for Greta's upcoming first birthday party, I couldn't help but pause and take a few moments to appreciate the many blessings of this past year and realizing the the full circle I'm quickly rounding.

And I cannot help but think that if I would have known then what I could have possibly been losing - this little spunky girl that has become my whole world - there's no doubt in my mind that I would have been uncontrollably devastated and afraid.

Realizations

I feel like I'm liberal in so many ways. And then in others, I feel so conservative, like maybe I just have a big stick up my ass and need to loosen up a little. There's really no rhyme or reason to all the whys of how I feel about certain things. I'm just a quirky girl. And that's just the easiest way to describe me.

I picked up my 15 year-old niece this afternoon, and while we were driving back to my house, there was a song playing on the radio, and she knew every lyric. I turned up the volume on the car stereo, and I asked her if this was Flo Rida, feeling all up-and-with-it for even knowing who Flo Rida was. She was all, no this is Jeremih, and it's called Birthday Sex.

And I just felt old because I couldn't help but think, this is legal to play this on public radio??? I mean, I'm all for freedom of speech, but, really? Really, do they need to broadcast a song that promotes getting screwed on your boyfriend's sofa in lieu of a cake with candles and other birthday gifts? Just for the record, kids, CHOCOLATE CAKE WITH BUTTERCREAM ICING IS WAY BETTER THAN SEX.

Within this same hour, there's two men delivering the decking composite to my house. Unsure of where to have them put the lumber, I called my husband at work. Meanwhile, I'd invited one of the men in to the house because it's 90+ degrees outside, and I didn't want him to wait on my front porch in the sweltering heat. So, there I was, standing at my back sliding glass doors, next to the delivery guy, waiting for my husband to answer the telephone call. We were looking out over the backyard, discussing where to put the decking materials.

And I said, "This air sure feels good up my dress." I was standing directly over the air vent, and while those were in fact my very thoughts, I sure as hell should have kept my mouth shut. How very inappropriate, and how embarassing.

I'm 31 years old and still so often trying to figure out who I am as a person, and the more and more I think I know, I always throw myself for a loop when I do things like these, acting like a prudish slut with multiple personalities.

Or something like that.

Kate Gosselin & Michael Jackson

Very random thoughts.

Actress Farrah Fawcett died earlier today after a battle with cancer. Later in the day, pop star Michael Jackson died unexpectedly of a heart attack.

As I thumbed through the most recent issue of People magazine, it occurred to me that the next issue would most likely be graced with a large photograph of the legendary moon walker accompanied by a smaller side note mentioning the death of the ex-Charlie's Angels star.

And then it dawned on me. For the first time in over a month, neither Kate or Jon Gosselin would be THE headline news. (After the stress of announcing their plans to divorce on the most recent episode of Jon and Kate Plus Eight, I imagine they need a little break from the spotlight!)

Kate Gosselin is 34 years old, just a few years older than I am, which makes me think she probably grew up watching Charlie's Angels and listening to Michael Jackson. When thinking all this, I could not help but chuckle because do you think she ever in million years thought she'd be making headline news repeatedly, being featured on multiple magazine covers -- only to be replaced by the deaths of such icons?!?

Yes, random thoughts.
I know.

Because I'm a Lady Like That

Here's a little conversation that occurred between Eric and me earlier this evening. What prompted this dialogue was me farting. On purpose. Yep, I said it, so there. I'm not one of those people who excuses themselves to go "pass gas" in another room. Yeah, shame on me.

So, we're in the kitchen, and Eric is putting away dinner, and I'm checking e-mail on the laptop while sitting on a stool at our island counter. Here's the conversation prompted by the preceding fart:

Me: I'd better stop doing that in front of Greta because she's gonna figure it out. She's now old enough that she will look at me if I make a noise when I fart.

Eric leans over on the counter, like he's going to tell me a very important secret and gestures with his finger for me to come closer so that I can hear this very important secret.

Eric (in a hushed tone): Guess what? I know what you're doing. I've figured it out.

His way of saying, do us all a favor and don't fart in front of the baby. OR HIM.

Happy Father's Day, Eric

As much as I may bitch about him, I couldn't have asked for a better dad for Greta.

Eleven-Month-You

Dear Greta,

You.
Today you are 11 months and two days old. Your hair is strawberry blonde. In some light, it looks just light brown. To me at least. More times than not, when we're out and about running errands, there's always at least one stranger who comments, "Look at that red hair!"

The red hair comes from my mom's side of the family. Unfortunately, your grandma is quite sick, and we don't talk to her often. Sometimes, I like to reminisce on who she used to be. Old photographs of her captivate my curiosity. I'm drawn to the beautiful pearly white smile, the flawless porcelain skin, and her stunning red hair.

You captivate me even more so.

Your eyes are bright blue, and they dance when you laugh. They're pure and sparkly, and they take me back in time because they're the same blue eyes as my dad's and his mom's. Your grandpa died nine years ago. I miss him. But I see him in you. Completely. The first time I saw you, my first thought was that you looked exactly like my dad. I remember feeling so blessed in that moment and so ... not alone. It's hard to describe, but there I was in the hospital, living thtough one of the most difficult experiences of my life, and there was this new little person who was all mine, and she looked like the one person I missed the most.

You.

You started crawling at the end of April, and you went from zero-miles-per-hour, snail's pace immobile to lightening fast super crawler. You haven't sat still since.

You love to explore. You love to continuously openandshut openandshut openandshut openandshut cabinets, and you love to look out the window overlooking our backyard. Sometimes you lick the glass window pane. And sometimes you carry things in your mouth when you're crawling. You like to play in the dog's water dish, and you have even snuck in a taste or two of her kibble. I sometimes wonder if you think you are a dog?

You love to put everything in your mouth.
You keep mama busy.

Two weeks ago, after much anticipation, two teeth sprouted through your bottom gums. You're now obsessed with running your little tongue over the jagged edges, and sometimes it reminds me of an old lady who forgot to put in her dentures. I mean that in the most endearing of ways. Really.

At this point, pureed foods MUST be fed to you via spoon via Mama or Daddy. Left to your own devices, you'd surely get food everywhere BUT your mouth. You enjoy feeding yourself Gerber dissolvable puffs and other little crunchy foods made for babies. And, each day, you get better and better at mastering drinking from the sippy cup.

You love ice cream. You love yogurt. You're a pretty good eater and do well with trying new foods. When you're full or don't like something, you vigorously shake your head "no."

Oh, you like cheese puffs, too.

You like them A LOT.

You hate hate hate when we wipe off your hands after you've eaten. You've learned to squeal in disdain. By the screeching sharp sound emitted from your mouth, one would think we were pinching you with electrically-charged clamps or something. Oh the drama that is involved in cleaning you off after eating.

You don't care much for binkies, and your favorite toy is Sophie the Giraffe. You like to play with my papers and anything else that is just within your reach. You think that EVERY thing is for Miss Greta Laine.

You've learned to pull off the headband bows with which I've decorated and adorned your sweet noggin since you were born. I knew you wouldn't tolerate being dressed like a doll forever.

You like to pull off people's sunglasses and eye glasses from their faces. I bought you your own pair of shades but you've no interest in them. Go figure.

You still nurse. About four or five times a day. Everyone asks when I plan to stop. I don't know. You still take two naps a day. You don't often sleep through the night. You usually wake up about once to eat, but you're pretty-much strictly business because you wake up, cry to get my attention, eat and then fall right back asleep.

Despite my horrible singing voice, you like to be sang to and you love going to music class. I love watching you clap your hands and bob your head and body to the music. And it's super cute to see your face light up when you recognize a familiar song.

You're smart. I stare at you and can see the wheels churning in your brain as you soak up the world.

You're happy. The smiles have turned so big.
I cannot get enough.

You're healthy.
You now weigh 18 and a half pounds, and you've only been sick once.

You're a lover. You never cuddled or snuggled when you were a younger baby, but in the past couple months, you've won me over a million times more so just by laying your little head on my shoulder and wrapping your little arm around my shoulder. Sometimes you'll run your fingers through my hair, and it's just the sweetest thing.

You're intrigued by new people and love to stare at new faces. You're quite the serious child until you warm up and then you're nothing but silliness and love.

This letter is a ramble and not the best-written, but I wanted to write about you, about who you are right now as an 11 month-old baby, learning to toddle, loving to gibber jabber, growing right before my very eyes. I wanted to get these thoughts down on paper because although the thoughts are not fleeting, the moments, unfortunately, certainly are.

You and Me.

Always,
Mama

What I Do These Days

Chase after
the girl
who crawls
and crawls
every where
and stands
and pulls up
on whatever she
can get her little hands on.
And now she walks
around furniture
(not on her own).
Surely, I should have lost about 20 pounds from all this. Alas, I have not.

Loving This...

I wish I knew how to post this directly onto my blog, but I don't. (If anyone does, comment and let me know!)

Anyhoo, I'm absolutely loving this little musical mix: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0v3d6SFcDys

Growing Greta

At some point, I've blinked, and my little baby has started turning into a little girl. With a personality. And a big heart. And blue eyes that just make you forget everything bad in the world.

I'm still so in love.

Greta's First Cardinals Game

I suppose I'm a little late in posting this, but oh well.

Greta attended her first Major League Baseball game last week. The Cards played the Cubs, and I have no clue who won. Not because I was tending to the baby during the entire game, but because I never know who's winning or losing when I go to the game. I'm there for the people-watching and the hot dogs. Oh, and the nachos.

Greta was there for the ice cream, as evidenced in the photographs. She lasted until the eighth inning. She was quite the trooper.

Memorial Day

I'm embarassed to admit that I always viewed Memorial Day as nothing but the official kick-off for the summer. Beer. BBQ. Catching some rays while lounging by the pool. A day off from work.

One of my favorite bloggers has a husband who has been at war, and she so eloquently writes about how Memorial Day now means so much more to her, especially after her husband lost multiple men from his company in the past year. Check out the photos she links to in her most recent post.

http://www.digitaljournalist.org/issue0604/finalsalute01.html

Definitely sheds new light on the holiday, don't you think?

If Only I Had a Picture

Payton HATES wearing clothes. Our neighbor once bought her a doggie outfit from Old Navy, and Payton refused to look at us until we took it off her. I'm not kidding.

So, I should have known something was up this morning when she sat on the landing and refused to come downstairs. She just peered at me through the stair ballisters with her big, brown sad puppy dog eyes. I knew something was wrong and even commented to Eric that she was acting strangely.

About half an hour later, Eric takes Payton outside to potty. Eric hollers to me, "What's that black thing on Payton?"

I'm confused by this inquiry. His question is vague, given that Payton is black.

I go to the window to see to which he is referring, and there's Payton with my bra looped around her front legs and neck.

I'm sure you're wondering, how did THAT happen? (I'd be wondering, too.) So, last night, I'm sitting at the computer e-mailing, and I was uncomfortable so I took my bra off and threw it on the floor. Evidently, I threw the bra on top of the dog who was sleeping soundly at my feet, and somehow she wrangled herself into it.

How to Charm Me

Thank you, Old Man at Costco, who after seeing I had a 18-lb. baby strapped to my front and a shopping cart full of produce, didn't hesitate for a moment to insist on picking up my two cases of bottled water and loading them onto the bottom of my cart. Sometimes, the sweetness of strangers just amazes me.

It's people like this 75+ year-old man who make up for the other assholes in the world, namely the dude at the post office who stared blankly at me as I carried a baby-loaded pumpkin seat in one hand and a laundry basket full of packed manila envelopes in the other. As I tried to hold the pumpkin seat, balance the laundry basket on my hip and open the door to the post office, he looked at me and said, "Wow, you have your hands full." Thank you, sir. Why, yes, I do.

And then, while walking out of the post office, a woman and her 7 or 8 year-old daughter were entering the building. Again, I had a pumpkin seat in one arm, a laundry basket in the other. Having just mailed all my packages, the laundry basket was empty. None the less, my hands were still full, and it was obvious, as I struggled to open the door to leave the post office. The mother and her daughter just watched as I wrangled to exit the post office lobby. It's not like they did not see me; I heard the little girl say, "Mommy, look at the little baby!"

It's not like I expect people to just cater to me since I have a baby. But, please. Please let me raise Greta to not just say "please" and "thank you" when expected but to go out of her way to do the little things, like holding the door open for strangers -- whether their hands are full or not. I want her to treat others how she would like to be treated. Common courtesy seems like common sense to me.

Today

The sky was so beautifully blue today. Greta and I ran our barefoot feet through the thick green grass in our front yard. It wasn't too chilly or too hot. It was the kind of day that usually would make you desperately yearn to sit outside all day long, just soaking up the sun's warm rays and attempting to master the the art of doing nothing.

I want to forget today. Because all the blue skies in the world can't make me forget the most sobering experience of my life. Today I saw a baby in a casket.

She was dressed in a pristine white baptism gown and matching bonnet. Tucked in the casket with her were her Glo-Worm and a small pewter cross. The things that once comforted her were now useless.

Our friends, Doug and Gena, lost their precious daughter, Kendall on Thursday last week, just four days short of her five-month birthday. Kendall's older sister, Ryann, is sure to be wondering where she is in the upcoming days. Kendall's twin sister, Quinn, has always been a part of a pair and now she is just one. I cannot imagine feeling so empty and incomplete.

Those are my thoughts and feelings. Shattered, in bits and parts. I can pick up the pieces. I only wish for the same for Kendall's sweet broken family. I'm afraid it's impossible.

Oh, my heart aches for them.

I told Doug she looked pretty. I told Gena I didn't know what to say.

Kendall.
She looked so beautiful.
So perfect.
Like an angel.
That's what she is.

Checking In

It's official.
I'm the world's worst blogger.
I promise to write something soon.
For the record, we're all doing well.
Enjoying motherhood, the little things,
the big things. Loving life.

Tree Hugs to Mama Earth

I grew up in a house with a father who proudly supported the world's largest waterfowl conservation organization. We recycled aluminum cans and newspapers long before it was the "in" thing to do. My mother loved scoring second-hand deals at yard sales and her all-time favorite, Goodwill. Naturally, one would think that the apple did not fall far from the tree and that these thrifty, conservative ways would have passed along to me.

Embarrassingly, I must admit, not so. I've always been a waster. Not a litterbug, but just one who has no regard for the repercussions of having too much and throwing away too much. I've always loved to shop, and I'd often do so without any thought about what I already had at home. Then, when I'd accumulate too much, I'd just get rid. My dad would tell me that money did not grow on trees. It's not that I disagreed; I just did not care.

I wore clothes a couple times and then, when I got sick of them, I just donated them or threw them in a pile to be sold at a yard sale. I'd throw away plastic milk cartons and water bottles without even thinking of recycling them. At work, I would sometimes absentmindedly -- and often purposefully as well -- unnecessarily print duplicates of documents. I'd chuck the unneeded in the trash can without giving thought to the recycle bin.

Now that I've painted a picture of myself as this Mother Earth-hating bitch... It's not that I had it out for her. I was just being selfish. And if there's one thing that having a baby did to me, it's realizing that it's no longer just about me, me, me -- and one day, Greta will be the one picking up the pieces of my irresponsibility.

Here's how we're reducing, reusing and recycling:

I reduce by using less. Buying less, shopping less, spending less. I'm slowly minimizing. And, I suppose you could consider my every-other-day showering habits a form of reducing as well?

I reuse by borrowing books from the library, friends or swapping them online. For parties and other gatherings, I use our everyday white Crate and Barrel dishes instead of purchasing paper plates that are used once. I only run the washer when there is a full load. I take my own reusable grocery sacks to the supermarket.

I've developed a burning passion for resale shops and sales, like Once Upon a Child and Kangaroo Kids. Much to my chagrin, just like my bargain-hunter mother, I love getting a great deal! And, as the Kangaroo Kids Web site points out, producing less cotton for new clothing means less pesticides and fertilizers. Buying used clothing also means less energy is needed to produce and ship new clothing from overseas (since hardly anything is made in the United States these days, unfortunately). Buying resale cuts down waste, energy and pollution! And Greta can wear a once-worn Ralph Lauren dress for $6.50!

Two months ago, we started cloth diapering. You don't have to look far on the Internet to read about the environmental impact of cloth diapers v. disposable diapers, but here's a place to start.

For the past year, we've recycled our aluminum and newspaper and magazines. A month ago, we began to recycle plastics, paper, tin, glass and all other recyclable discards. The mass amount we collected in just one week was shameful.

Wow.

I recently read that it's the small changes that add up to make a big difference. Here's to hoping that my little changes are doing some thing. I'm not saying that I'm an official patchouli-wearing tree-hugger, but I'm proud to say that there is no longer a need for my sister to dig through my trash to weed out the Tide detergent bottle and take it home to Florida to recycle.

April 21 - Free Cone Day @ Ben & Jerry's

http://www.benjerry.com/scoop-shops/feature/free-cone-day/

My Spring Chick

Happy Easter!

Since we were on RSV lock-down in December, Greta didn't get to meet Santa. So, when we were out and about at the mall, and I saw that the Easter bunny was there, I decided to have Greta's photo taken with him. I wasn't sure how she would do -- if she'd be completely freaked out and cry or what. She seemed to enjoy running her little fingers through the bunny's dirty furry costume. I did my best to not fixate on how many other germy kids had done the very same thing.

As soon as Greta saw the camera, she grinned. (Perhaps I break out my camera a bit frequently and now have her conditioned!?) This photo here was the very first one. She's an easy shot.

How Music Class Saved Me

I drank a fifth of vodka just a bit ago.

That is what I told the cop who stopped me on the way to Greta's music class.

I don't lie.

So, I'm driving to Greta's music class, and I get stopped for speeding. For the record, I was trying to get around one of those trucks that say "Keep back 300 feet," and was kicking it in high gear because I realized my exit was quickly approaching. Not the best of excuses, but it's not like I was just driving 80 mph willy nilly. As soon as I high-tail it into the far left fast lane, the cop car is quickly inches from my back bumper, sirens flashing and blaring, urging me to pull over. I make my way over to the far right shoulder, and the cop is at my window in no time.

He looks very, very serious, and I'm shitting in my pants. I do not want a ticket. And I hate getting caught doing something wrong. Who doesn't? I roll down my window, and I just immediately start digging in my bag for my wallet. Greta's cloth diapers and wet bag are flying out. My uneaten morning's breakfast of a bruised banana and Babybel cheese litter my car's passenger seat. I just assume he's going to give me a ticket, so I'm frantically rummaging for my driver's license, basically just ignoring him, trying to avoid looking at him, because I'm feeling ashamed. Embarassed. Nervous. Anxious.

The officer says to me, "Do you know how fast you were going?"

Me: Pause. Pause. Pause. Shake my head, crumple my lips. "Um, yeah. No."

Officer: "I clocked you at 78. Where are you going so quickly?"

Me: "My daughter's music class."

So there is baby Greta in her car seat in the back seat. She's 9 months-old. And yes, she is taking music class.

The cop bursts out laughing. Within just a couple seconds, he turns from stern law enforcement officer to a young 30-something dude you'd have a few beers with in your backyard while bbqing.

I turn up the radio for him and play the class's musical CD, which we had been listening to and singing along to. (Me singing. Greta listening. Poor kid.) The dude on the CD sings, "Boop dee boop dee doo." Or something like that.

The cop, who had just seconds before requested my license and proof of insurance, is still laughing. He leaves me with my insurance card and proceeds to his vehicle with only my driver's license, after reassuring me, "We'll get you out of here quickly."

Meanwhile, I still think I'm getting a ticket and am screaming lots of "Oh damns" in my head.

Cop comes back and says, "Thanks to you, I'm going to have that silly tune in my head all day long. How can you stand that?" And that's when I told him about the vodka.

Looking for the Shirts?

Paper Slut shirt info can be found here.

Crop Crazy shirt info can be found here.

Giveaway: Lili Bebe Changing Pad

I'm a sucker for free stuff. And I'm a sucker for fun Web sites. Project Nursery is one of my favorite sites these days. It's full of ideas for decorating the nursery and just for fun miscellaneous baby gear. Right now, they're giving away a Lili Bebe changing pad. Go leave a comment at Project Nursery for a chance go win!

Something To Do - Meet the Machines

On April 25, you can take your children to "Meet the Machines." Budrovich Excavating is hosting an event where your kids can check out various contruction machinery. Click here for more info on the event. Sounds kinda cute, especially if you have a boy or a child who is just interested in big machines!

Salary of a SAHM

$116,805

Cousins

For Eric's mom's birthday, we hauled in the grandkids to The Picture People for some fun photos. The 19 year-old college student was less-than-thrilled to be out of bed pre-noon on a Saturday, at that. The 15 year-old spritely pom pom one with all the practice of keeping a perfectly poised frozen grin did just that. The 10 year-old boy; well, he was a hard one to wrangle. Doesn't want to smile or sit still or do anything on command. He definitely marches to the beat of his own drum. Greta? Well, she was just so stinkin' thrilled to be in public and out of the house.

These are Greta's cousins from Eric's side of the family. She sees them more than my side of the family, just because they live in the same town as we do. It's so cute seeing them gush over her. She just eats it up!

My family is a bit more sprawled out, location-wise. Greta has gotten to spend time with one of her cousins, who lives locally. She has met her Florida cousin twice, but Greta has not yet met her Chicago cousins, and I know she is saving lots of kisses and grins and giggles for them!

Eight Months Old

Dear Greta,

I'm a little late in writing your most recent monthly letter, and for that, I apologize. Happy 8 months and 11 days, little one. We've been busy!

Just yesterday morning, your daddy asked me, "What do you do all day?" Good question. I used to think I'd stay home with you, and my house would be perfectly cleaned and in order, every thing would be labeled and put away and I would be in organizational blissdom. Oh, was I ever disillusioned. You keep me busy.

On any given day, you wake up and you eat, and we change your diaper, and then we play. You generally wake up in a great mood, full of big toothless smiles and plentiful wet raspberries. Nursing has gotten more and more challenging, for lack of a better term, just because you like to check out everything around you all the while hiking your little foot up near your head the entire time you're eating. Diaper changes are challenging, and that's the perfect term for them, because you like to wiggle and wriggle and roll over and grab whatever item is nearest.

Playtime has gotten more fun, as you've grown much more inquisitive and have gained mobility. You're not quite crawling yet, but the wheels in your little head are spinning, and we're just counting down the days until you figure it all out. You liked to jump in your jumparoo, but you also enjoy quiet time in your exersaucer/activity center contraption. All toys still go directly in your mouth regardless of size, but you've also started showing interest in touching and feeling things.

Your palate has expanded tremendously in the past month. Your favorite foods are anything sweet, particularly prunes, apples and bananas. You make an "mmmm" sound when you enjoy something such as these foods. And when you don't like something, you blow raspberries and shake your head no. Your least favorite foods are peas and avocados. You're not yet feeding yourself finger foods, but you sure do enjoy practicing by sticking your spoon in your mouth.

You're a very serious baby, and as sweet as you are, you're not too much into cuddling. Why waste time with snuggling when there are so many other things to investigate! You study faces intently, and you've started grabbing at my glasses, jewelry, hair, nose, etc. Anything you can get your hands on, you want it.

You continue to grow into a wonderful little girl, with the exception of "the sleep strike of February 2009 to present", which started mid-month February. Prior to this time, you had blessed us by sleeping 10+ hours a night. But a month ago, you decided that continuous sleep was overrated and you now wake up a couple times a night. We haven't decided if the disruptive sleep is because you're teething or if it's the result of a growth spurt. No teeth have yet sprouted, and you're not busting out of your clothing from growing too big. I know, though, that this will pass. As much as I love my sleep, the quiet middle-of-the-night moments (and sometimes not so quiet moments) are irreplaceable and precious and are sure to one day leave me yearning for more of them. I know it won't be like this forever.

I'm keeping this letter short and sweet, free of flowery stories. I still love you and think you're the most amazing thing that has ever happened in my life. Right now, I need to go get some sleep so I'm ready for our 3 a.m. milk party. See you then.

Love,
Mama

How to Frustrate Me

If I ask you to change the baby's diaper, I'm probably asking you because it needs to be changed. After all, I have been with her ALL day and know when she was last changed.

So, naturally, I get a bit aggravated, when I say to Eric, "Why don't you change Greta's diaper?"

And he responds, "Does it need to be changed?"

Do you think I am just suggesting it because I like to hear myself talk?

Feeling Guilty...

for forgetting to wipe my mouth of the chocolate batter that I sampled while making cupcakes, and then accidentally wiping it on the baby's head while I held her, trying to soothe her cries.

Stuff White People Like

A funny web site: Stuff White People Like

Free $25 Target Gift Card (and a Great Web site, too!)

Have you ever checked out the blog, STL Mommy? Anyone who knows me knows I'm a whore for coupons and deals, so this web site lights my fire. Right now, she's doing a fun give-away -- a free $25 Target gift card. Who can't use one of those?!

Chunky Monkey

Last night, Greta received her last injections of Synagis. Before each injection, the nurses weigh her to determine the proper dosage of the injection. I'm excited to report that Miss Greta weighs 17 pounds! Grow, Greta, grow!!!

So Freeing, Fresh Air

Well, we did it -- we survived Greta's first public outing. Today we ventured to the zoo. The 80-degree weather was too tempting to resist. Greta soaked up every bit of it. The sights and sounds of all the new people and voices. The animals, of course. The little children riding the carousel. The fresh air. She seemed to really enjoy herself, if her wide eyes and lack of interest in napping were any indication. Since being cooped up all winter, Greta seems to especially appreciate any break from the norm, especially when it involves people other than her mama. She just no longer finds me entertaining. I don't blame her.

I never realized what a fiasco it is to get myself and another human being out of the house. I woke up in the morning at 5 a.m., and from that point on, I played out the morning's schedule in my mind. When would she eat, when would she nap, when would I shower? I made list after list in my mind. What to pack, when to leave home, how to dodge highway 40 construction, what's the most efficient way to get to the zoo. I wanted to be prepared.

Since we rarely leave the house, I don't keep a diaper bag packed and ready-to-go. So, as Greta napped, I quickly showered and then ran around the house half-naked, gathering necessities. Diapers, check. Wipes, check. Blanket, teething toy, check check. Soy bars, bottled water, cell phone, wallet, camera -- all packed.

As I was leaving the house, I realized, I had just a few dollars in cash in my wallet. (Hello, parking money?? What if we needed a snack?)
And I didn't have sunscreen.
Or a hat to protect her face.

And then I got nervous about breastfeeding in public. After all, I've really only nursed in the comforts of my own home where no one cares whether I'm discreet when whipping out my boob.

I was running late, and so I worried about meeting my friend late and her possibly being mad. And what if I couldn't find a parking spot and what if I couldn't find my friend and her children once inside the zoo, and and and. What if. That was how my mind's frazzled thoughts played out.

Please remind yourself, I've NEVER done this before. This was our first "field trip."

As soon as I got Greta strapped in the stroller, I started to feel some relief and gain a little confidence. I could do this. We headed into the zoo, found our friends, and I finally felt I could relax and let it all go. All the stress and the worry and the anxiety of wondering if I was capable of being a mom OUTSIDE the four walls of my house.

Turns out, I am perfectly capable of doing the public mom thing. Maybe I wasn't perfect at it, maybe I should have been more discreet when nursing, and maybe I should have put the brake on the stroller so it wouldn't have rolled down the hill (Note, Greta was not in the stroller at the time!), and maybe I talked incessantly (I'm a little rusty in the realm of adult conversation). Maybe next time I'll bring sunscreen for Greta's never-seen-the-sun porcelain skin and won't have to borrow. Maybe next time, I'll reassure myself that I survived the time before, and by golly, I'll get through it again.

Another Reason I'm Glad I Breastfeed

According to a recent study, breastfeeding reduces the risk of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS): http://www.reuters.com/article/healthNews/idUSTRE5214KG20090302?feedType=RSS&feedName=healthNews.

The Necessities

I've been slowly hitting the liquor cabinet today, in preparation of tonight's errand run to Babies R Us. (If you are unfamiliar with my disdain for this store, check this out.) If I were drunk, would it make it easier to tolerate the massive amounts of baby-this and baby-that? I wonder.

No worries, folks. I'm sober. Heading to the baby mega-mart this evening to return some Carter's jammies that tore after one wear and one washing and to shop off a friend's baby registry. I'm tempted to just give her a gift card. I know it's impersonal, but those were my favorite of all shower and baby gifts! That and diapers.

A recent post at one of the blogs I regularly follow got me thinking about favorite baby gifts...

My favorite gifts were:

• diapers -- Before choosing to cloth diaper, we used Pampers, and we went through them like crazy. We'd received several packs as gifts. It was so nice to have a stockpile of them!
  
  
• gift cards to Target and Babies R Us (Despite hating the store, there are still some things that you need, and that's where you have to buy 'em.) I used to think gift cards were impersonal, but they are great because new parents are always in need of SOME THING!
  
  
• embroidered/monogrammed burp cloths - I like monogrammed stuff. Love to see Greta's name on stuff. I know not everyone is all frilly like that, but regardless -- it's fun to have a jazzed up every-day item.
  
  
• books - I love to read. And I love to read to Greta. Children need to be read to. I don't think you can have enough books. If you get duplicates, keep one upstairs and one downstairs.
  
  
• steaks - Some friends gave us a gift card to Omaha Steaks. His girlfriend was appalled. We were so appreciative, though! We ordered a couple cases of filet mignons, and it's been a treat. We don't always have the time to go out for a nice dinner, and it's so nice to just be able to thaw out some steaks, grill 'em, and have a nice meal.
  

And, with the risk of sounding ungrateful, which I don't mean to be... Things I could have done without:

• baby bath robe -- Okay, fine. You think you're going to put your kid in a robe his/her bath, great. For us, that just wasn't gonna happen. Bath time is a friggin' CHORE, folks. By the time it's over, you're so glad that you didn't piss off the baby too much and that you've got her clean. You will not be in the mood to throw her in a bathrobe. If you are, kudos to you.



• rubber ducks -- One is nice. Two make great bath buddies. But we have a whole flock of them. Some are dressed in princess gear, and another is wearing a Hawaiian lei. Some are still in the packaging. Perhaps I should make one of those pick-a-duck games you played at the local county fair as a child?



• socks -- The only socks I will spend my money on are Trumpette socks or socks from Gymboree. Trumpette socks are pricey, yes. But they are really the only socks that have stayed on Greta's feet. I'd rather spend my money on something we've used the heck out of than than something cheap that doesn't work. Cheap socks are a waste of money.
  
• any outfit made out of velvet, cashmere or any other pricey fabric -- I just had to have this holiday dress from Pottery Barn Kids. It was velvet. And dry clean only. ... She never wore it for Christmas, so I made sure she wore it on Valentine's Day. She spit up on it like five times that day.
  
  
• things YOU think are just the greatest -- Gifts are great. And I'm so grateful to our friends and family who have given Greta gifts. But just because the Evenflo bottles worked great for you, doesn't mean they'll be everyone's favorite, too. Just because the lavender-scented bath wash relaxed you, doesn't mean it won't cause hives on someone else's child. And, my all-time favorite -- if, after scrutinizing someone's baby registry and PRIOR to shopping for that person, you ask them what they need, and they've already told you that they don't need that particular item, don't buy it for them just because it worked for your kid (who is now 13) when she was a baby. Maybe they already have that item. Or maybe they don't want that item. Some people don't want lots of baby clutter decorating their house.
  
  
• baby blankets - I have enough blankets for Octomom's entire brood. Granted, I was the stupid one who over-registered for all these. I didn't realize I wouldn't need 50 receiving blankets and 15 stroller blankets. Turns out, my favorite blankets are my blankets from when I was little (they're so soft and broken in!) and then one a friend made me just because it's in a funky pattern and is unique.

Let me note... You could have told me all of this 8+ months ago and I wouldn't have heeded the advice. I think it's every mom's rite of passage, so to speak, to go a little willy nilly with buying her baby new things - regardless if those things are impractical or useless. How else do you learn?

Random Daily Observations

If you feed your baby canned beef meat, and it smells like dog food BEFORE consumption, it will still smell like dog food after it's burped up and on your shirt.

If you're going to have your naked baby on carpeted floor, be prepared for a potty accident.

Andrea, are you f-in' stupid? Yep, I'm sure that's what you're thinking as you're reading this. Because, if I were reading your blog, I'm sure I'd be thinking something similar. I'm going to blame the stupidity on the sleep deprivation of last week. Yep, er, that's my excuse.

Greta's got a bit of diaper rash, so we've been having naked time for a few moments each day, as air is supposedly the best remedy for diaper rash. I usually set Greta on a few blankets and towels in case she pees while naked. That hasn't been so efficient the past few instances of airing-out-the-baby-booty. For one, Greta is moving like a worm and quickly moves herself off the "potty mat" and onto the carpet. Two, I guess I've been silly to underestimate the amount of bodily fluids that can come out of a little baby -- because apparently, a towel and a couple blankets aren't enough layers to keep the pee from getting to the carpet. Just a few moments ago, I heard Greta grunting, her familiar sounds indicating she's pooping. Or thinking about it. And there popped out poop, onto the blanket.

For the record, Eric, there's no poop on the carpet, and I'm going to soak up the pee and clean the carpet so it's good as new.

Just as soon as I'm done tinkering on Facebook.

In Case You Cared...

Tomorrow is National Pancake Day! Go to IHOP on Tuesday, February 24 and get yourself a short stack for FREE!

Free Photos @ Walgreens

I love me a good deal!

Good, for today only, get 20 free photo prints when ordering online at Walgreens. When checking out, just enter the coupon code: ONEDAY .

Let's Have a Little Talk

Dear Greta,

This letter will not be sweet and flowery like many of my others. I'm keeping this short and sweet.

The multiple middle of the night awakenings? Not cool.

Please give us back the 10-hour sleep-through-the-night schedule. Name your price. I'll give you what you want.

Love,
Sleepy Mama

Really?

Have y'all heard about the incident at North Carolina Denny's restaurant where a customer was breastfeeding her child, and she was asked to leave because of it? http://www.wlos.com/shared/newsroom/top_stories/wlos_vid_2107.shtml

I don't have much to write about this just because it's left me a bit speechless. Wow.

The Map Room

Back when I had time to kill and was out and about (translate: easier access to newspapers and magazines), I enjoyed reading St. Louis' Sauce Magazine. I loved reading about St. Louis' newest eateries and planning where I'd next dine. I now spend my time reading web sites like this and this, leaving no time for dreams of where I'll next stuff my face.

However, I received an e-mail from an old friend, announcing the opening of a new little coffee shop in town, called The Map Room. Looks cozy, don't you think?

7 Month Intoxication

Dear Greta,

As I write this, it's a rainy, chilly February day. It's the kind of day where you'd like to stay in bed all day while reading a good book with a snoozing dog at your feet. Alas, that's no longer the life of this mom-of-a-seven-month-old! While you're in your crib all snugly and napping, I'm curled up on the couch, donning my spit-up stained pjs, watching talk-show host/chef Rachael Ray interview a father whose wife died the day after giving birth to their daughter.

That dad's name is Matt Logelin. His story is a tragic one. It makes mama sad to think about it too much. But it also makes me remember that there is overwhelming joy after unbearable sadness, that there is undeniable happiness in the smallest of things. I'm crying as I watch the interview. I'm crying because it's such a sad story, and I can't fathom walking in the shoes of that mom, dad or baby girl. I'm crying, too, though because I am so very grateful as I am reminded of my blessings, of living a life I of which I've always dreamt.

I think that each month, I tell you what a beautiful month it's been and how it's been the best so far. It's true though. It just keeps getting better. The past seven months have been the most fulfilling of my life. I've watched you grow from a quiet, tiny preemie to a serene, yet bubbly, inquisitive baby. I've witnessed your first grins, heard your first giggles, soothed your cries, fed your needs and loved every moment of it.

I often note my gratitude for you, your health and your accomplishments, but I often fail to thank Daddy, the man who enables me to live this life with you. Daddy, the man who gets up early each morning and works all day -- all for me and you -- has made me realize that the gift of time is the most precious.

I covet my time with you.

I have a lot of mommy friends who say, "Oh, I could never do that. I could never stay home all day long. I'd go nuts." And while I don't judge moms who work outside of the home -- whether it be by choice or necessity -- I have to admit that I can't imagine my life any other way

While Daddy has provided me with the gift of time, you have graced me with presence, teaching me to live in the moment of here and now. I have spent many moments in my life just going through the motions, walking in fog, not truly feeling true emotion. I have both purposely and sometimes unconsciously voided events and memories in my life in attempts to bypass the risk of hurt, and I know that at the same time, I've caused myself to also miss out on other raw emotions, like joy. Not with you, though. You have opened the gates to my heart, and it's constantly flooded with the delight of YOU.

Stories like Matt Logelin's remind us that we often take things for granted. Life is too short. I know this by how fast it's been flying by. I've spent the past month playing catch-up on scrapbooking your photo albums. Because I don't want to ever forget any of this bliss. Like when you're 13 and think I am embarassing and would rather pretend to not know me. Or when you're 15 and think you know every thing and that I know nothing. I want to chronicle your life -- milestone by moment by minute. I don't want to forget. Any of it.

Like how I fell in love with you in the sixth month for all different reasons than why I'd fallen in love with you before. The raspberries during dinner and the loving to swim in the bathtub and the fascination with your feet. The way you crinkle your little button nose when you try a new vegetable and the way you devour sweet fruit with each new bite. The way you've become intrigued by your doggie Payton and the way you curiously and intently stare out the front window, soaking in the uneventful mid-afternoon nothings of our neighborhood.

You. The sweet moments with you. I am so intoxicated by these simple things.

Love,

Mama

Baby Loves Disco

I love dancing with Greta. I can't dance well, but it makes Greta giggle, and that makes me happy. St. Louis needs one of these.

The 25 Random Things Quandary

Facebook. Ahhhh. FB. I could write so many postings all related to Facebook, but right now, I'm off to bed. Or trying to get there. Thing is, FB is this big ol' nothing that sucks your time. Half an hour ago, I said, "In ten minutes, I'm going to bed." And here I am. I've got a good excuse though -- I'm working on my 25 random things list. You know, that list on Facebook that everyone and their brother wrote and sent in their "notes" section THREE WEEKS AGO? Well, I am just now jumping on the bandwagon. I didn't think I could come up with 25 things. And right now, I'm too tired to finish the list, but I've gotten to #18, and dangit, I don't want to lose my hard work, and I can't figure out how to just save it on Facebook, so I'm gonna post it here.

1. I attach my socks together with safety pins. I've done this since high school. It keeps them from getting lost from one another in the laundry and then I don't have to sort them when putting them away.
2. I love lists.
3. I'm pretty obsessed with teeth but don't wear my retainer like I should. If I had extra cash lying around, I'd have braces put back on. ... I find it extremely repulsive when people pick their teeth after eating.
4. My least favorite thing about breastfeeding is that I can't have my teeth professionally whitened.
5. I never planned on breastfeeding my baby but after she didn't respond well to formula while in the NICU, I figured it was the least I could do. I'm glad I decided to breastfeed. It's one of the best decisions I've ever made.
6. I have a hard time sitting still to focus on anything. That's been the hardest thing about breastfeeding for me - forcing yourself to sit down and live in that moment. It's a good lesson for me, though.
7. I wish tanning didn't cause skin cancer. Sleeping in a tanning bed is the best nap I've ever had. I cancelled my membership to The Tan Co. a couple months ago since I hadn't tanned in over a year and decided the responsible thing to do would be to ... not tan.
8. I love the mashed potatoes that you get in hospital cafeterias.
9. I tend to overcook things when cooking. My husband says that he is amazed how each time I cook, it's like the first time I've ever done it.
10. I love cupcakes. Love decorating them -- and cakes, too.
11. My passion is writing. That's what I did straight out of college. I wish I could find another job writing.
12. I enjoy a good deal. More than anything, I love buying stuff that is on sale and using coupons. I don't go to the grocery store or Target without saving at least $20 using coupons.
13. I can't sing but wish I could. Because I love karaoke. IF NO ONE ELSE IS PRESENT TO HEAR ME.
14. I'm terrible about keeping my checkbook balanced but not as bad as I used to be.
15. I love reading Web sites about frugal living.
16. As much as I'd like to deny it, I am so my mother's daughter. (See #s 12 and 15.)
17. My favorite books to read as a child were the Ramona Quimby books by Beverly Cleary. I also liked Adventures in Babysitting. Sweet Valley High books were good, too!
18. I never liked the New Kids on the Block. I liked Tiffany and Debbie Gibson. I now like Michael Buble, Alan Jackcon, Taylor Swift, Frank Sinatra, Martina McBride, Jeb Lloyd Nichols, Ben Harper and some others.

Safety Recalls

A couple months ago, I signed up to receive e-mail updates on any recalls related to children's toys, clothing, etc. Thankfully, I've never owned any of the items recalled, but it's given me a little peace of mind knowing the info is out there. If you'd like to sign up for e-mail updates, too, here's the link: http://www.cpsc.gov/.

Because I Like This

I subscribe to the blog, Simple Marriage, and while skimming through today's e-mail feed, I read this and really liked it.

THE POWER OF ONE

GOD GRANT ME THE SERENITY TO ACCEPT THE PEOPLE I CANNOT CHANGE

THE COURAGE TO CHANGE THE ONE I CAN

AND THE WISDOM TO KNOW

–THAT ONE IS ME.

I've got all these new year's resolutions and goals that I've been working on, and I am proud to say that I've really been working at the core of things, starting with myself. I think that's why I liked this little twist to the all-time classic Serenity Prayer.

Yum!

I just entered an online contest, and to enter, I had to say what I liked to cook for my family. My favorite all-time recipe is this: http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Savory-Chicken-Breasts/Detail.aspx. It is soooo easy.

Not sure if there's anyone out there reading my blog anymore, but if there is, what's your favorite thing to make for your family?

Good Morning!

Greta's been smiling for some time now, but just recently, she's really started laughing. As I walked into her room this morning to get her from her crib, I could hear her usual sounds of cooing and thumping her legs on her crib mattress. As soon as she saw me this morning, she generously let out a big ol' belly laugh.

Sometimes, she's so serious. Last night, Eric came home and greeted her with a bunch of hellos, and she just stared at him blankly. She's quite particular with the smiles she doles out. If you're not amusing her, she doesn't waste her grins. If I want to get her to smile, one sure thing is to kiss her cheeks and wiggle my nose into her neck rolls. Gets her going every time!

Bottoming Out @ Babies R Us

I went to Babies R Us this afternoon.

I hate that store.

Prior to having a child, I absolutely despised BRU. I'd visit the place a few times a year to purchase gifts from baby friends' baby registries, and that was a nightmare. All the STUFF. Stuff I didn't know what to do with or what it was for. Anyone who has ever shopped at the store knows the anxiety I'm talking about -- print someone's 11-page baby registry list, locate a few items in your price range, and then do your best at navigating the baby megalomart to locate the gift. Better treat yourself to a few margaritas at the local Chevy's beforehand, lest you'd prefer to stab yourself in the eye from the pain of such a scavenger hunt.

Now that I have a better understanding of all the STUFF in the store, the anxiety has calmed just a bit. I can now focus a little better and don't feel so consumed by the monstrosity of the task at hand, of the store, of the selections. Yet, still, I remember at least two times during today's shopping trip where I paused for a moment and felt the need for a cigarette. I'm not kidding. And I don't even smoke.

Does anyone else absolutely hate shopping at BRU? I dread it. But, today I figured, what the heck -- I was out and about for my yearly ob/gyn visit, and you might as well get all the shitty tasks off the things-to-do list all at once, right?

I must preface this with noting that I enjoyed the well-woman exam much more than the shopping trip. Yes, enjoy was what I said. Because THAT is how much I hate shopping at BRU. I'd rather have my girl parts poked and prodded than patronize the monopoly-of-a-store that seems to only employ childless 16 year-olds who insist that they know what they're talking about when it comes to what children need.

Because I am not particularly fond of BRU, I try to limit my shopping excursions there. I keep a running list of things we need to buy there, you know -- baby things. Things that you could buy at Target or online but things that are just easier to buy at BRU because they offer more of a selection.

Today, I braved the frigid four-degree temperature, and headed to the local BRU with my accumulated list of baby needs. White long-sleeved onesies. Rice cereal. Baby food. Sippy cups. Pretty basic, or so I thought. $175+ and two hours later, I walked out with:

• white Carter's long-sleeved onesies (Whether the brand be Carter's or Gerber, I absolutely love love love white onesies. I wish I would have known this a year ago because I could have saved so much moolah and not have bought so many fancy schmancy shirts.)


• Carter's short-sleeved onesies (I couldn't pass up the pale blue and red cherry pattern!)


• Gerber baby food (This is where my mind started to boggle. There's baby food in jars. There's baby food in plastic containers. There's stage 1, stage 2, stage 3... Peaches, pears, prunes. Carrots, peas, green beans. Ham in ham gravy, turkey and sweet potato dinner, chicken noodle dinner. TOO MANY CHOICES. I had no clue what to buy. All I could think of was all the cute little craft projects I wanted to make with the jars when we were done with the food).


• Gerber rice cereal


• Dapple baby toy wipes (Even though we don't leave the house often, I thought that when we do, these would be great to keep in the diaper bag for when toys get thrown on the ground.)


• Gerber sippy cups (At our last appointment, our pediatrician suggested we start having Greta practice drinking water out of a sippy cup. I dread the mess that will soon ensue.)
  
• Boon divided plates (This was an ORDEAL -- finding plates with divided sections, especially if you wanted plates minus splatterings of Elmo, Barbie and other obnoxious characters.)
  
• bibs (Although we already have a decent assortment, I've fallen in love with the Bumkins brand of waterproof bibs. They wash up so nicely.)
  
• Top 100 Baby Purees (Because apparently I think I have tons of free time and should enlist in making homemade baby food? Hell, after all the cash I dropped on jarred baby food today, I'll give anything a try once!)
  
• two new Swaddle-Mes (My friend, Cara, lent me her daughters', and they have been a true Godsend. Greta can't sleep without them. But now that she is growing, she's starting to bust out of the small size.)
  
• miscellaneous toys (Despite my best efforts to keep the toy explosion to a minimum, I felt the need to purchase some new little sound-making, brightly-colored doo-dads to entertain Greta. We think she's starting to teeth, so I got her toys that were chew-safe. Wait, that's dog-talk. I should rephrase that: I chose toys that are appropriate for teething babies. Sound better?)
  
• a cloth book (As I type this, I'm too tired to remember which Roger Priddy book it was that I purchased.)

I just realized that perhaps it's a bit obnoxious or mundane to list my purchases, but I just spent too much time hyperlinking the products to go erasing my hard work. ;-) The main reason I included the links, though, is because I've got a few friends who are expecting or are new moms, and I know when I was on the hunt for products, I was constantly hounding my friends for their thoughts on must-haves. I'm not saying these items are all necessities, but I just thought I'd throw in my two cents on some baby products...

I think BRU overwhelms me because of all the choices it offers. And everything is displayed right BAM! in your face, so you're not sure if you need Dr. Brown's bottles or Avent or Born Free. The clothing situation is horrendous because IT'S JUST TOO MUCH. I imagine that the way I feel when shopping at BRU is similar to a man shopping at Walgreens, trying to pick out sanitary products for his girlfriend.

When exiting the store today, I realized that when I entered the store it was still daylight, and it was now dark. That's too much time spent in a place I feel sucks the air out of me.

Feeling happy...

because the new season of 24 starts this evening and American Idol begins this week as well. I never was a huge TV junkie, but with not leaving the house very often in recent, TV is my friend.

Growing Greta

I took Greta in for her RSV injection this evening, and she weighed in at 14 pounds, 9 ounces! We see the pediatrician Monday for Greta's six-month appointment. Am I bad for secretly wondering what I can do in three short days to beef her up to 15 pounds?

Yoga Mama

I recently signed up for a yoga class at our local rec center. My main goal for 2009 is to get healthy, so I thought a yoga class fell right in line with that. A little stretching, meditation, mindful movement -- how hard can it be? The instructor kept saying that yoga shouldn't hurt. But can I just say that I am sore today?! THAT is how out of shape I am -- I'm sore from basic stretching. Sad.