Daddy's vacation

Don't Bite!

{GO BUCKS!}

Belated

And I forgot to post his 8 month photo shoot. Its hard being a baby when your Mama won't let you eat the sticker...

Things that big boys do

I think I forgot to mention that we put away Owen's pumpkin seat and switched to his big boy car seats. We installed the new seat in Daddy's car almost two months ago but we wanted to wait until after our vacation to switch out mine (those carry seats are SO convenient but SOOO heavy). Also, we made a classic "first time parent" mistake by buying the SnugRide 32.

Our thought: more bang for your buck!

Reality: You would NEVER carry a 32 pound child in that baby seat. EVER.

It seems like every week I am nostalgically packing away O's "baby things" and putting him in stuff I never imagined he'd fit in - like 12 month pajamas!

And shopping carts...

Wordless Wednesday

Breastfeeding at the Biltmore

On our vacation in Asheville we met up with my friend Kelly (Owen's god mother "Doda Kelly") She is living there with her two boys (age 2 and 6 mons) while her Army husband is deployed for the next 13 months. The last time we saw each other was just after our wedding. She was my Jewish witness to our Ketuba (marriage contract)

Needless to say, when we saw each other there were LOTS and LOTS of tears. In the last two years there have been three babies born, five moves, a graduation, a deployment and entirely too much distance. But the amazing thing about friends is that it was like we saw each other yesterday. Except now, we are both Mamas! The first night we stayed with her she said nonchalantly, "Tam, seeing you as a mother is so amazing, its as if you've always been one." That comment made my heart burst with pride.

We had a great time with the boys and being around a two year old was a scary nice glimpse into our future. To say that Kelly is an amazing Mom is an understatement and it was so nice just to be together.

Both of Kelly's boys were born at 36 weeks exactly. Jeremy and I were there when she had PreE with her first son, Graham. Her second son, Ben just came out happily at exactly 36 weeks just like his brother. I remember when I was on bed rest and at 36 weeks and 1 day she called me and said, "You are in the clear Mama, you've officially held in a baby longer than me!" We are both nursing Mamas. She is happily nursing Ben into his sixth month. Her kid nurses (and falls asleep) ANYWHERE. Like at lunch. Her baby nurses and looks like this.

My baby nurses and then looks like THIS!

 She always has to one up me.

One night we had dinner with Owen's Nana and Papa (and Kelly and Ben) and then headed over to tour the Biltmore (so so so amazing by the way). The house was lit for Christmas and we kept the babies up past their bedtime for a little night out. Our little family of three was sitting in the backseat of my in-laws sedan on the way to the Biltmore. It was 6pm. Owen likes to nurse at 6pm. Our tickets were for 6:15 and we were running late as it was. Owen makes it known that IT IS 6PM!! I NURSE AT 6PM! I NURSE AT 6PM! I had heard (horror?) heroic stories at my Le Leche meetings of mothers who lean over the car seat to feed their screaming babes on car trips. I thought about it for exactly two seconds (Hmmm wonder how much of this can be seen in the rear view mirror) and then I flopped myself over my boy. And nursed him. Not before Jeremy says, "That's never gonna work." Two seconds later... slurp, slurp slurp. Happy baby.

I'm gonna admit. This was SO UNCOMFORTABLE. See previous statement again and then ask me what it felt like and I'll tell you - it was awesome. I make milk. That's my superpower.

As we were waiting to get into the Biltmore I told Kelly about my heroic car trip over - one in which my in-laws were none the wiser. She says, "Holy crap, you go dude!"

Fast foward two hours. Its late, we're touring the second floor and Ben gets hungry. We both wore the babies in front pack carriers and they were TOTAL ANGELS. Both of them. They were the only children in the place and again, TOTAL ANGELS. Ben was justifiably hungry but we were walking through narrow roped-off halls. Kelly asks if she can borrow my nursing cover, so I dug it out of my bag wondering how the hell she was going to pull this off. She unbottons the carrier, drapes the cover over her and WALKS NURSING HER CHILD IN HER ARMS. Oh and then - SHE CLIMBS TWO FLIGHTS OF WINDING STAIRS WHILE NURSING HER CHILD!!!

She always has to one up me.

After our tour, we took a shuttle back to the parking lot. It was late and time for Owen to go to sleep (CUE: ITS TIME FOR ME TO SLEEP GIVE ME YOUR BOOB). Kelly and I were sitting in the front row of the shuttle and OWEN WAS LOSING IT. Banging his head in between my boobs motorboating loudly as if to say, "THEY ARE RIGHT HERE, RIGHT HERE, LET ME HAVE MY MILK!" So what did I do? I pulled my boob out and nursed him.  Kelly: "Holy crap, you go dude!"

I would have totally pulled this off discretely except for when my husband sitting two rows behind me says, "Are you nursing Owen on here???"  Drawing attention to my exposed boob (and happy baby) to the other passengers. AND if that wasn't enough - my husband and my mother-in-law started to sing.

THE BABY ON THE BUS GOES SLURP, SLURP, SLURP.

Kelly: "Last night, I wasn't sure if I should be horrified or give you a high five. Thanks for the boob shot lady, I enjoyed it - the guy sitting next to you on the other hand..I think the singing tipped him off."

Long story short.

Dear Kelly,

I win.

Bauw, Bauw, Bauw Baby

Owen started talking last week. He says, "Ah, Zuece" and "Bauw, Bauw, Bauw" -  I'm pretty sure this translates to "I love you" and "I want to eat"  Its not quite the ga-ga-goo-goo we expected but it's a start.

But for my first trick... I will shove an entire Maraca in my mouth.

And for my next trick I will demonstrate my talking skills while being deliriously tired right before bedtime.

Vacation's over

We're back and needless to say, we had an amazing week together. It rained for the majority of our trip to Asheville so the one dissapointment was that we don't have many pictures. I was hoping to get a family shot of the three of us (we haven't had one since Owen was born) but that didn't work out. Such is the way with weather and tiny windows of time off.

Lots to post and catch up on.

But for now, I thought I'd show you just how relaxing it really was...

California king...literally.

{poolside} "Somebody bring me my milk!"

*p.s. SIDS police - the bed picture was taken of Owen the morning we left Asheville. He came into bed to nurse at 3:30am and fell asleep. We had all of the lights on and we were taking pictures of him!We were watching him the entire time and laughing at how the bed just swallowed him up. He slept like he owned the place!

Older on the outside

Dearest Owen,

I looked at the calendar this week and realized you are 38 weeks old. You've now lived longer outside my belly than inside. Somehow the time has past us by so much faster out here. I look down at you in my arms and I struggle to picture the tiny, vulnerable boy we welcomed into the world. Instead that baby in my arms has been replaced with a smiley, willful boy wearing twelve-month pajamas! How is this the same baby? Where did the time go? I grew you inside and though the months felt long and tiring I knew it would be worth it - now as you grow on the outside I know the true meaning of exhaustion and the feeling of endless love that makes everyday better than the next. When you are still and your eyelashes begin to flutter with sleepy dreams, I stare at you in amazement that you are MINE, excited to know that we have an entire lifetime together. I want to remember my 8-month-old you --- your round cheeks, your pink pouty lips, your little chubby fingers wrapped around mine. I know soon I will look down and I won't be able to picture the baby I see today - because in his place will be a toddler, and then a child and then a grown boy who won't fit in my lap but will always consume my heart. Just like you have since the day you were born.

My love for your spills over into every cell of my being. You continue to be the most amazing thing I've ever seen. Happy 38 weeks!

all my love,

Mama

You have no choice but to talk to me

On the 10 hour car ride to Asheville NC, Owen cried for a total of FIVE minutes. Our kid is a rock star. We decided that we'll keep him. Jeremy and I passed the time talking, so much so that we were hoarse by the time we arrived. It was awesome.

Him: I feel so disconnected. I don't even have time lately to check my Yahoo homepage. I have no idea what's going on with the world. Are we still at war?

Me: I know what you mean. I didn't even know Sheryl Crow adopted another baby...

Him: I didn't know she adopted the first one.

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Him: Did you fart?
Me: No, must be Owen.

(later)
Him: I think Owen farted.
Me: Nope, that was me.

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Him: Katy Perry is a total slut. Her songs are so trashy I can't get over it. This one is about how great it is to have casual sex as a teenager and then never talk to the person again. Can you imagine having a twelve year old daughter and hearing her singing, "I want to see your peacock, you're peacock, cock. cock."

Me: Since when do you have time to listen to Katy Perry songs?

Him: Did you fart?

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Him: Oh look, West Virginia glass factory ahead.

Me: Aww that reminds me of that movie with the Matthew McConaughey look alike where he has a classy glass shop. You know? He makes glass stuff when lightening hits sand and Reese Witherspoon wants to divorce him to marry Mc Dreamy? What movies was that... Oh! Sweet Home Alabama! Remember that one?

Him: I think you just mistook me for someone with a vagina.

Don't lick the stamps

Ever since I moved out on my own, holiday cards have been a must. As time goes by, my list of recipients has gotten longer and longer, people drop off, new friends are added - its a dynamic, methodical, popularity contest.

I spend countless hours choosing "THE CARD" and bdazzling them with stickers and confetti. Even before I converted to Judaism, I looked for a general-holiday-themed card as not to exclude anyone or make assumptions about their religious practices. Snowmen have always been a big draw for me, a few years I purchased holiday cards from Planned Parenthood and once I sent some from UNICEF. Peace on earth is pretty standard greeting and I haven't met too many people who'd complain about that. And then there's the five straight minutes I spend cursing the price of stamps. 44 CENTS?! EFFF! oh and then and I spend another five minutes cursing the annual government installment of "holiday themed" stamps that usually picture red nosed deer, smiley elves or the blessed virgin. Except for this year they have pine cones AND I THINK PINE CONES ARE AWESOME! How could you possible offend someone with a pine cone? Evergreens and world peace - now there's something I can get on board with.

This year my decision is two fold 1) choose a card and 2) choose from the THOUSANDS of adorable pictures of my son to splat on the front of it. We've come to understand that Owen is now the main attraction of our family and people could care less about seeing Jeremy and I. Both in person and in pictures, so this holiday season - we aim to please.

I was really happy with the little zoo book that we made from Shutterfly last month so I've been eyeing their holiday holiday cards. Here are the front runners...

1. We are Jews - so why aren't yous? card

{Hanukkah}

2. Holy shit a lot happened this year (replacing "Merry xmas" with some secular verbiage) card

3. We had a kid and he grew a lot this year if you don't believe me just look at all these pictures

{New Year}

Right now I'm favoring an out with the old in with the NEW YEAR cards. Only because it allows for another month and a half of picture taking and procrastination. Two of my very favorite things.

You know what else I like? FREE STUFF. Shutterfly is offering 50 free cards to bloggers. Check it out and fill your loved ones' mailboxes with something other than bills this holiday season.

And then go prepare yourselves for the adorableness that is my child. Coming soon!

This interupts our regularly scheduled programming

Daddy has a week off.
A family of three all day everyday.
Excuse our absence from the internet.
Know that we are together and ridiculously happy.

Kind of like when this happened.

And when we come back there will be LOTS of pictures.

Rainbow hair

Over the past few weeks Owen has acquired quite a bit of new hair. When the new hairs are growing in they are very short and make wispy spikes around his head. Funny thing is, since giving birth my hair has been falling out like crazy (still is!) and I have wispy spike of new hair growing in all over my head too!

When O was born his hair was brown. Definitely brown. Then one day, it was suddenly red. Definitely red. Then brown again.

Most of the new hair is blonde. In some light it looks blondish red. In some light it looks dirty blonde, almost brown.

We have no idea what color Owen's hair was, is or will be when he grows up.

But two things are for certain 1) He has his Daddy's hairline and 2) it's insanely cute.

I made you from scratch

Eight and a half months later I still have to pinch myself when I look at this awesome boy.

{Found here}

Little things

Sometimes I get swallowed up in the day-to-day----wake, nurse, change diapers, laundry, dinner, litter box, shower (meh.), browse the internet, pump, drink water, miss husband, snuggle baby - rinse and repeat. I remember at my old job we had a very multicultural office and one of the researchers there was Chinese. She would sometimes ask our administrative assistant, Julia, questions (very valid questions) about idiomatic expressions. Nine times out of ten, she would stump her, (ie. "Come on, guys" - how do you possibly explain this??) It tickled me when she would ask these questions - because Julia with her firey red hair and personality to match - was of course the BEST person to ask (I borrowed her black leather fringed motorcycle chaps for Halloween one year. She actually had the guts to wear them in real life.) I would hoover in my cubical very silently in an effort to eavesdrop on these conversations. I found them fascinating and would laugh to myself at how truly confusing the English language really is.

One day my coworker asked a question that I'll always keep with me.

What is, "a little something" ?

Julia sat puzzled, "What is the context?"

Someone said they were having, "a little something special"

And I listened to Julia fumble through an explanation of how when something, even a very small thing like a cup of coffee, a fancy sugar sifter or a green highlighter, makes us happy we save it (for a rainy day...what?) and enjoy it when we need a pick-me-up (pick me up? what?)

I thought about all of the "little somethings" that make my heart flutter and how the bad stuff just melts away. I remember the first time I fell in love with a little something. I was in college, driving down the main street of our small town around this very time of year. There were workers on ladders putting flags at the very top of the black light posts that lined the leaf-covered street. I looked up at the new flag whipping in the wind and on it was a snowflake. I rolled down my window and took a deep breath of cool air, I could almost smell the snowflakes --and in that moment, my heart smiled a little. I made a memory of that feeling, to keep with me as a reminder that THIS is what getting older is all about. You might say this was the first time that I stopped to just be thankful.

Ever since that day I let myself be taken away, to those moments, by a little something specials. To truly appreciate little things in my life that make my heart swell big inside my chest. The feeling that smiles so big on the inside it can't help but make you smile on the outside.

The other day a friend called, kids screaming in the background and said she was having the worst day ever, and then she said, "But Trader Joes had a big bunch of fresh flowers for $3 today. They are sitting on my dining room table, making everything better."  And I told her about my spoons. There is a frozen yogurt shop down the street with 12 machines of daily flavors. You fill up a large white cup and cover the creamy goodness with nuts, candy, fruit and cereals of your choosing. You pay by the ounce (so pick light toppings!) and shovel it in with a brightly colored plastic spoon. This summer, when Jeremy happened to get home early enough, our little family would walk to the shop. We'd see who could guess the weight of the yogurt, we'd talk, coo over Owen and enjoy the sweetness of the night. I couldn't bring myself to throw away the spoons, so into the dishwasher they went one by one, until I had a set.

When I pull myself, bleary-eyed, out of bed to nurse a crying Owen in the middle of the night or very early in the morning before the sun comes up I always eat a small cup of soy yogurt before going back to bed (must.make.more.milk) and I eat it with a brightly colored spoon. And I stand alone, barefoot in the dark kitchen and let that spoon bring me back to a perfect summer night walking hand-in-hand with my gorgeous husband and cuddling our tiny baby.

The diapers, the laundry, the dinner, the litter box  and every other day-to-day is easier to swallow served up on a colored spoon. My little something special.

Army crawl

Owen has been having some restless nights, screaming out, and when I go to him he is "crawling" in his sleep. I think his little body is ready to move and is trying to gear up for the big day.

Last Wednesday he dragged himself across the carpet with his hands to get to my cell phone. I had to laugh because he won't do it for something he is allowed to have -  baby toys ect. - only things that are off limits. AND it actually has to be within what he considers to be an obtainable distance for him to even attempt to drag all 20 lbs of him even an inch.  So far he's made the effort for a laptop cord, either of our cell phones, the home phone and Jeremy's watch. It seems like a pretty inefficient way of getting around and he's quite frustrated with it. He's only gotten half up on his knees but that resulted in him toppling over sideways almost immediately.

We figured he won't be doing this for long so we took a video. It was in the evening after swim lessons and bath time so he was pretty done for the night - but he really wanted his Daddy's phone. You can see that at first he doesn't think the phone is close enough to try for it, so we moved it. At the end I think he's calling child protective services on us for making a tired baby fetch his own toys ;)

And in this video he decides the home phone just isn't worth it. But the little "free willy" moves he does in the video are the same moves I find him doing in his crib in the middle of the night - sound asleep. Poor little guy. His mind and body are on overdrive trying to master this milestone - he'll get there! (Hopefully not before next week when we plan on baby-proofing the apartment...)

An unfamiliar face

Jeremy is off today after 23 days without a day off. He is actually off this entire weekend and I'm totally jazzed about it. It was actually weird having him home this morning. It was sad that it was weird to have my husband home. When Jeremy is home I try to let him do things to care for Owen. Besides nursing him, for obvious reasons, its nice to have the help and I want him to feel connected to O. Don't get me wrong - its VERY hard for me to keep from giving step by step instruction on how to do things. You have to tighten his bib or food drips down his neck. Don't put too much on the spoon. When he makes that noise it means he wants more.. ect.. ect.. ect.. I have to tell myself that even if Jeremy doesn't do it the same as I do, it will be fine the way he does it too.

When I woke up to my husband feeling me up at 730 I was somewhat startled. Did he miss work? Did I miss Owen crying? WHY was I  having a dream that I had a disease in which a pencil-thin snake was growing out of my face, just underneath my nose and I had to get it surgically removed except for when I went in for the consult they said it was the longest snake-face case in the history of all cases and I needed to have it measured for the Guinness Book of World records BEFORE I COULD HAVE IT REMOVED. I'm scared to DEATH of snakes. I know. My dreams are totally screwed up. I blame the hormones.

I thanked him for waking me up and he said,

"Sorry I was just feeling to see if you had fed Owen yet. Obviously you hadn't."

So what use to be playful, sexual communication between two consenting adults has now become a way of knowing whether or not our son had slept through the night. I chuckled to myself.

Daddy scooped Owen out of his crib, changed him and brought him to me (so awesome!) He then was forced out of his own bed because Owen is too easily distracted to nurse while other people are around. Its usually not a problem - there's never anyone else around.

He spent the rest of the morning asking, "So what does Owen do now?" and I told him about how our day usually goes. We play with toys in the morning and Owen starts to fuss right around 9 when he wants to nap ---- 8:58, Owen fusses.

During Owen's nap we talked a little, listened to some music (I am so loving the song Just The Way You Are by Bruno Mars) and prepped some dinner for tonight. We talked about what to do this afternoon even though it was cold and raining outside and discussed a holiday wish list for Owen (because people have started asking, we're working on it!)

Jeremy looked over at the monitor around 11am and noticed Owen was playing in his crib. Off he went to get our boy and dress him for the day. I absolutely love it when my colorblind husband dresses Mr. O. I waited in the living room for him to come out - wondering what hot-mess-of-an-outfit our son would be wearing.

He came out with a green thermal onsie (that I've never dressed him in because it was 12 mons and I thought was too big, guess not) green track pants and camo socks.

Me: Aww I love when Owen wears green - he looks so cute! Good job Daddy!

Jeremy: I thought this outfit was brown....


***LOVE***

Back in the saddle again

I always found it strange when people would tell me that running was their "passion" and I'd look at them waiting for the joke. These are probably the same people who star in the yogurt commercials that compare lactobacillis to PIE AND CAKE. Running does nothing for me except make me want to die or scream or kill people.

I started spinning in 2005 after my then-boss began teaching at a local studio and invited me to her class. I remember being so intimidated at first - I could barely stand up on the bike let alone jump- but something about it just hooked me. The music is awesome, its fast paced and challenging. I bought a heart rate monitor and learned to track (and control) my level of exertion by my bpm. I became stronger and more savvy with my cycling and in July of 2007 when my instructor went on maternity leave she recommended me to teach her class. And I did.

Cycling frees my mind. It makes me feel strong and connected to my body - gives me a high that lasts for nearly an hour afterwards. No matter what kind of day I had when I climbed on the bike - that time was just for me and all of my stress would dissipate amongst gushes endorphins and boob sweat. I was so happy when my growing fetus (now known as Owen) tolerated the workouts. I liked that I was keeping fit and strong and showing people that pregnant women CAN workout. I taught cycling until my 25th week of pregnancy when it began to be uncomfortable getting on and off the bike and I couldn't make it through an hour-long class without having to duck out to pee (and sometimes forgetting to turn off my mic in the process...oops!)

I was put on bed rest two weeks later. I in no way think these things were related and if I had it to do over would not change a single thing. Bed rest took its toll on my body in a matter of days. My goal at the beginning of my pregnancy was to remain strong and fit so that I would be in optimal shape to recover from birth and care for my newborn. Preterm labor changed that goal to delivering a healthy baby at any cost to my body.

I delivered a healthy baby, but could barely stand through a five minute shower. I couldn't even walk around the block until eight weeks postpartum. It has taken me a long time to build up the strength and confidence to get back in the cycling room. I was faced again with the same intimidation that I had before my very first class but lately I started to yearn for that release. I wanted to let my mind go and feel strong again. I needed to find a way to make that happen.

Last Friday night during a casual conversation with a friend he mentioned he started spinning again. I told him I used to teach and he insisted I come to class while his wife watched Owen.

I went and the weirdest thing happened to me. First off, I didn't die. I actually kept up quite well. Wearing my 20lb son around town must have somewhat conditioned my legs. But for almost ten full minutes during that class I forgot I was a mother. It was amazingly freeing. I was transported back to the person I was a year ago. My mind was clear and my body felt strong. Until my milk-filled fun bags started aching with every painful bounce and I remembered my sweet son who was waiting for me.

Almost 11 months to the day and I am so happy to be back and to have this outlet, this passion. You won't catch me running anywhere anytime soon or choosing yogurt over cake for dessert - but I am proud and happy that I made that step. It was a little piece of me that I needed to get back and in doing so it makes me a better wife and mother.

We voted!

After Owen's morning nap we walked across the street to our polling location (convenient right?) Owen was pretty psyched about 'voting' in his first election. I remember waiting in a long line last year, five months pregnant and people kept cutting in front of me. RUDE! I think election day is exciting - AND it means the end to all of the political phone messages, TV ads and yard signs.

It was pretty cool this year because we have two saved phone messages. One from Bill Clinton and one from Barack Obama.

Call me back guys! We'll chat!

Also - What the hell Pittsburgh? THIS is NOT a sticker! I was really hoping to have an "I Voted" sticker for Owen's baby book and all they had was this stupid poll tab.

Me: Can we have our sticker?

Poll Worker: {Blank stare}

Me: Our 'I Voted' sticker?

Poll Worker: Pennsylvania doesn't have stickers. Where did you move here from?

Me: Apparently any of the other states in America because THEY ALL GIVE OUT FREE STICKERS!

Top Teeth Debut!

"Oh no, not you again with the camera first thing in the morning..."

Baby Owen, please show me those pearly whites? The ones on top that are almost fully in now. The ones you have been grinding together with the bottom to make the most unnerving popping sound. Remember those?

Please... pretty please for Mama...

HUGE SMILES!!

Okay sweet boy, you can eat the lens cap...

Uh those beautiful blue eyes and chubby hands just make my day!

Goodmorning, indeed.

Little Monkey

Nana and Papa got Owen this monkey hat last time they visited along with a bunch of warm stuff for winter. Its just now starting to get cool and Owen wore his monkey hat for the first time this week. I almost died from cuteness!