Yesterday after church Jamie went to the grocery store for me. Because I loathe the grocery store. So I made him a list and he did the shopping. After he got home, I realized I'd forgotten to plan anything for dinner. So he went back to the store to pick up something for us to eat and then came home and cooked it. As he cooked, I sat at the kitchen island and talked with him. "Sorry I stink at wifehood," I said. He replied, "It's alright. I'm pretty awesome at being a husband so we average out ok."
The man has never suffered from a lack of self-confidence!
Monday, December 17, 2012
Monday, November 19, 2012
Twenty-Nine
Jamie and I were talking last night and I asked him how he feels about being married to a 29-year-old. Twenty-nine. It sounds so old. He reminded me that 29 is not yet 30 (he's so wise). I told him I feel like 29 is a bigger deal than 30. This is the end of my 20s. The end of an era. Well, a decade really. Next year will be the beginning of a whole new era. I feel like in your 20s you become a grown-up. Finish college, get a real job, leave your first real job, get another real job, get laid off from that job, get yet another real job, get laid off again (maybe that's just me), get married, start a family, buy your first home. I mean, a decade ago I was a kid. And now I have kids.
Next year, when I turn 30, I feel like I'll be celebrating the beginning of a new phase of life. I can't wait to see what my 30s have in store! Thirty feels like the start of a new adventure. I won't be a new graduate, a newlywed or a new mom. I won't be "new" anymore. I'll have some experience under my belt. It's like graduating from Adult 101 and enrolling in Adult 201. Sophomore grown-up. I'll still have a lot to learn before I'm considered an upperclassmen, but I'll at least know my way around campus.
Thirty feels like the start of something new, but twenty-nine? For some reason, that feels like an ending. And as excited as I am to find out what this year holds for me, I feel a little sad about saying good-bye to my 20s. I guess I better live it up and make sure I finish up my 20s in style!
Next year, when I turn 30, I feel like I'll be celebrating the beginning of a new phase of life. I can't wait to see what my 30s have in store! Thirty feels like the start of a new adventure. I won't be a new graduate, a newlywed or a new mom. I won't be "new" anymore. I'll have some experience under my belt. It's like graduating from Adult 101 and enrolling in Adult 201. Sophomore grown-up. I'll still have a lot to learn before I'm considered an upperclassmen, but I'll at least know my way around campus.
Thirty feels like the start of something new, but twenty-nine? For some reason, that feels like an ending. And as excited as I am to find out what this year holds for me, I feel a little sad about saying good-bye to my 20s. I guess I better live it up and make sure I finish up my 20s in style!
Friday, October 19, 2012
Anna's Bedtime
Update: Annnnnnd I'm a moron. It took me two weeks - TWO WEEKS - to realize we move the clocks BACK in the fall. When I pointed this out to Jamie he said, "Yeah I know but you seemed so convinced..." By then I'd already adjust Anna's bedtime forward by 30 minutes and I just decided to move it back to 8 and we'd cross our fingers and hope she did ok come November 4th. And she did. We're up earlier than I'd like to be, but bedtime is no problem. Hopefully she'll start sleeping until 8 again soon! And we'll try this again in the spring when it actually makes sense!
This week Anna is going to bed at 8:00 PM.
Next week she'll be going to bed at 7:45.
The week after, 7:30.
And the week after that? 8:15.
Why the crazy moving around of our one-year-old's bedtime? Are we trying to punish her and ourselves by deliberately keeping her from a routine?
No, of course not.
Two weeks from now, on November 5th, Daylight Savings Time ends. Which means if we weren't being all crazy about her bedtime now, it would go like this:
This week, bed at 8. Next week, bed at 8. Week after that, bed at 7.
The clock on the wall might say 8, but her little internal clock would be saying 7 and we don't think she'll just adjust automatically once we explain Daylight Savings Time to her. Of course I'd have to have someone explain it to me first. Why do we do this?
Anyway, our hope is that by moving her bedtime up by 15 minutes for the next few weeks that Daylight Savings Time will be a lot easier to manage this time around. I'll be doing it in the morning, too. She usually sleeps about 12 hours at night, so I'll be getting her up at 8:00 this week, 7:45 next week, 7:30 the next, then 8:15 and then 8:00. We'll be a little more lenient on that end, though. I'm not planning on rousing her from a deep sleep just because the clock says so or leaving her crying in her bed half the morning because it's not officially time to get up.
I can't take credit for the idea; it was all my Mom's, but I thought it was brilliant when she shared it with me. I figured if I was grateful for the idea you might be too.
I'll let you know in a few weeks how well it worked!
This week Anna is going to bed at 8:00 PM.
Next week she'll be going to bed at 7:45.
The week after, 7:30.
And the week after that? 8:15.
Why the crazy moving around of our one-year-old's bedtime? Are we trying to punish her and ourselves by deliberately keeping her from a routine?
No, of course not.
Two weeks from now, on November 5th, Daylight Savings Time ends. Which means if we weren't being all crazy about her bedtime now, it would go like this:
This week, bed at 8. Next week, bed at 8. Week after that, bed at 7.
The clock on the wall might say 8, but her little internal clock would be saying 7 and we don't think she'll just adjust automatically once we explain Daylight Savings Time to her. Of course I'd have to have someone explain it to me first. Why do we do this?
Anyway, our hope is that by moving her bedtime up by 15 minutes for the next few weeks that Daylight Savings Time will be a lot easier to manage this time around. I'll be doing it in the morning, too. She usually sleeps about 12 hours at night, so I'll be getting her up at 8:00 this week, 7:45 next week, 7:30 the next, then 8:15 and then 8:00. We'll be a little more lenient on that end, though. I'm not planning on rousing her from a deep sleep just because the clock says so or leaving her crying in her bed half the morning because it's not officially time to get up.
I can't take credit for the idea; it was all my Mom's, but I thought it was brilliant when she shared it with me. I figured if I was grateful for the idea you might be too.
I'll let you know in a few weeks how well it worked!
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
I'm Exhausted
Not because I have two babies who take turns crying at night and keeping me awake (well I mean I AM exhausted from that. It's just not the exhaustion I'm currently speaking of).
I mean emotionally and intellectually exhausted.
Why? Because I can't eat anything anymore, let alone feed Anna anything, without worrying about what's going into our bodies and how we're getting it.
I've started reading nutrition labels. Let me warn you - that's a bad idea if you want to enjoy those delicious "fruit" snacks that actually contain nothing that could be considered fruit. I start to worry about Anna and Brooke's little brains and bodies. What am I putting in them??
So then I start researching. Annnnnnd enter exhaustion. There's SO MUCH to read! And I don't understand half of it. Alright, I say, we'll keep it simple. My kids will eat nothing but fruits, vegetables and whole grains. But wait! Make sure that produce is organic and locally grown! And don't be naive enough to think a package marked "Whole Grain" in the grocery store actually means the product is not full of chemicals.
Ah screw it, let's just make cookies. Bring on the chemicals, baby! I love me some chocolate chip cookies.
Hold up. Apparently the conditions the people growing my coffee beans, chocolate, and sugar cane are subjected to are horrific. Great. My kid's chemical-laden food destroying their brains was bad enough. But now our food is actually destroying the lives of children in third world countries.
Thankfully, there are people willing to offer an alternative! I go on blogs and read "Your chocolate/coffee/sugar/tennis shoes/clothing/electronics/etc. are being made by exploited workers in third world countries. Buy fair trade! You get your goods, they get compensated fairly. Everyone wins!" And I think "Yay! Something I care about - the developing world, people (especially children) living in horrific poverty and a very simple way for me to be a part of the solution."
Annd then I started reading again. I should know better. I start reading more about fair trade and find that it is at best a charity (and not a very good one) and at worst a marketing scheme that actually does long term damage in developing nations. Hardly a good solution.
Well, hello square one. Good to see you again.
Now I'm in the worst possible position. Just enough knowledge to not sleep at night with my belly full of my chocolaty, sugary, chemical-filled evening snack, in my foreign-made sheets and jammies. But not quite enough to know what to DO about it. And in the meantime, my children play with their probably lead-filled foreign-made toys while I do my research on my laptop, manufactured by exploited factory workers and miss out on the opportunity to partake in playtime and bond with my kiddos.
So here's where I've landed (admittedly not contentedly): I'm going to do my best. I'm going to buy the healthiest food we can afford and cut some corners so I'm not a slave to the kitchen. My kids are going to eat some processed foods because spending my life researching healthy alternatives and preparing them is just simply not feasible for me right now.
And we're going to continue to eat the yummiest coffee, sweets and chocolate we can find at the best prices while continuing to support charities that offer aid - real, documented, hand-up-not-a-hand-out kind of aid - to people in the developing world.
And I'm going to constantly be seeking ways that my life and the way I live it can lift people up instead of oppressing them. To do my best to stay heartbroken by the things that break the heart of God. To accept that I live in a fallen world, that life will never be perfect this side of Heaven, without becoming complacent.
We can't fix this world, because there is not easy, effortless, quick solution. But I'm not going to let that fact excuse me from trying.
I mean emotionally and intellectually exhausted.
Why? Because I can't eat anything anymore, let alone feed Anna anything, without worrying about what's going into our bodies and how we're getting it.
I've started reading nutrition labels. Let me warn you - that's a bad idea if you want to enjoy those delicious "fruit" snacks that actually contain nothing that could be considered fruit. I start to worry about Anna and Brooke's little brains and bodies. What am I putting in them??
So then I start researching. Annnnnnd enter exhaustion. There's SO MUCH to read! And I don't understand half of it. Alright, I say, we'll keep it simple. My kids will eat nothing but fruits, vegetables and whole grains. But wait! Make sure that produce is organic and locally grown! And don't be naive enough to think a package marked "Whole Grain" in the grocery store actually means the product is not full of chemicals.
Ah screw it, let's just make cookies. Bring on the chemicals, baby! I love me some chocolate chip cookies.
Hold up. Apparently the conditions the people growing my coffee beans, chocolate, and sugar cane are subjected to are horrific. Great. My kid's chemical-laden food destroying their brains was bad enough. But now our food is actually destroying the lives of children in third world countries.
Thankfully, there are people willing to offer an alternative! I go on blogs and read "Your chocolate/coffee/sugar/tennis shoes/clothing/electronics/etc. are being made by exploited workers in third world countries. Buy fair trade! You get your goods, they get compensated fairly. Everyone wins!" And I think "Yay! Something I care about - the developing world, people (especially children) living in horrific poverty and a very simple way for me to be a part of the solution."
Annd then I started reading again. I should know better. I start reading more about fair trade and find that it is at best a charity (and not a very good one) and at worst a marketing scheme that actually does long term damage in developing nations. Hardly a good solution.
Well, hello square one. Good to see you again.
Now I'm in the worst possible position. Just enough knowledge to not sleep at night with my belly full of my chocolaty, sugary, chemical-filled evening snack, in my foreign-made sheets and jammies. But not quite enough to know what to DO about it. And in the meantime, my children play with their probably lead-filled foreign-made toys while I do my research on my laptop, manufactured by exploited factory workers and miss out on the opportunity to partake in playtime and bond with my kiddos.
So here's where I've landed (admittedly not contentedly): I'm going to do my best. I'm going to buy the healthiest food we can afford and cut some corners so I'm not a slave to the kitchen. My kids are going to eat some processed foods because spending my life researching healthy alternatives and preparing them is just simply not feasible for me right now.
And we're going to continue to eat the yummiest coffee, sweets and chocolate we can find at the best prices while continuing to support charities that offer aid - real, documented, hand-up-not-a-hand-out kind of aid - to people in the developing world.
And I'm going to constantly be seeking ways that my life and the way I live it can lift people up instead of oppressing them. To do my best to stay heartbroken by the things that break the heart of God. To accept that I live in a fallen world, that life will never be perfect this side of Heaven, without becoming complacent.
We can't fix this world, because there is not easy, effortless, quick solution. But I'm not going to let that fact excuse me from trying.
Monday, October 1, 2012
Two Perfect
I don't frequently curse. Every now and then I may use a mild profanity when the timing is perfect and I know I can make Jamie laugh with a well-placed h-word or d-word. I don't generally curse to express anger or frustration.
But last January, when those two lines appeared? Well, I might have let one slip. Maybe more than one. I might have been a little shocked. Ok, beyond a little a shocked. Completely and utterly shocked. Another baby? How could I be having another baby when my first baby is still a baby? I hadn't slept 8 straight hours in 5 full months! I was never going to sleep again!
For about 5 minutes, I freaked out. I laughed and cried at the same time like a maniac. I panicked about how Jamie would react when I told him. I started mentally listing all the reasons why having two babies so close together would be impossible. I couldn't do it.
And then I pulled myself together and decided since I was going to have another baby, I was going to be positive about it. And I committed myself to only focus on the good stuff for the rest of my pregnancy. Panicking and having meltdowns wasn't going to make it easier, so I would simply refuse to.
I didn't exactly obey my self-imposed optimism rule all the time. For the most part, I stayed positive, but I had a few sob fests, usually after Anna had had a particularly bad day. I would fall apart and ask Jamie, "How am I ever going to do this with two? I can't. We're hiring a nanny. I'm holding my sister hostage and forbidding her from leaving. I can't do this."
Just like the first time, my pregnancy flew by and before I knew it I was sitting in a hospital bed holding my perfect baby girl, still pretty convinced I could not handle being a mom of two babies only 12 months apart.
When Jamie brought Anna to the hospital to meet her little sister, she was a little off. Cranky, whiny. And she felt feverish. When we came home the next evening, she was still not quite herself and still felt hot. I was sitting on the couch, trying to nurse my newborn while my "big girl", who was still so very little, was crying and needed me. I felt so torn! I started crying myself. Was this what it was going to be like from now on? Never enough of me to go around? One girl would always be getting less of me than she needed? I was a little freaked out.
But here's what I've found: there are most definitely moments where I'm stretched thin. Usually they involve a nursing Brooke and a sobbing, tantrum-throwing Anna. But for the most part, having two has been such a blessing. I'm way more laidback about Brooke crying than I was with Anna (of course a lot of that has to do with the fact that she cries much less!) I will get to her and meet her needs as quickly as I can, but I've learned if she has to wait a minute, she'll be ok. I've learned to make the most of playtime with Anna. I might not be able to give her attention every waking moment, but I can make sure the time she does get is quality. And overall, I'm happier this way. I feel like I'm more focused. Playtime is playtime, and Anna gets 100% of me. When it's time to do housework, I have to give it my full attention or I won't accomlish anything. When it's time to feed Brooke, I sit down and focus on her and remind myself that this will pass all too quickly.
For right now, I feel like I'm the perfect amount of busy. Not overwhelmed, but just enough to make me not take for granted the time I do have.
But talk to me again in another few months when Brooke isn't sleeping 20 hours a day!
P.S. Blogger is saying I've used up all my storage space for photos, hence this photo-less post. That's also why I haven't posted a one-month update for Brooke. Pictures were taken, but I can't post them. I'll figure it out and get a post up soon, I hope!
But last January, when those two lines appeared? Well, I might have let one slip. Maybe more than one. I might have been a little shocked. Ok, beyond a little a shocked. Completely and utterly shocked. Another baby? How could I be having another baby when my first baby is still a baby? I hadn't slept 8 straight hours in 5 full months! I was never going to sleep again!
For about 5 minutes, I freaked out. I laughed and cried at the same time like a maniac. I panicked about how Jamie would react when I told him. I started mentally listing all the reasons why having two babies so close together would be impossible. I couldn't do it.
And then I pulled myself together and decided since I was going to have another baby, I was going to be positive about it. And I committed myself to only focus on the good stuff for the rest of my pregnancy. Panicking and having meltdowns wasn't going to make it easier, so I would simply refuse to.
I didn't exactly obey my self-imposed optimism rule all the time. For the most part, I stayed positive, but I had a few sob fests, usually after Anna had had a particularly bad day. I would fall apart and ask Jamie, "How am I ever going to do this with two? I can't. We're hiring a nanny. I'm holding my sister hostage and forbidding her from leaving. I can't do this."
Just like the first time, my pregnancy flew by and before I knew it I was sitting in a hospital bed holding my perfect baby girl, still pretty convinced I could not handle being a mom of two babies only 12 months apart.
When Jamie brought Anna to the hospital to meet her little sister, she was a little off. Cranky, whiny. And she felt feverish. When we came home the next evening, she was still not quite herself and still felt hot. I was sitting on the couch, trying to nurse my newborn while my "big girl", who was still so very little, was crying and needed me. I felt so torn! I started crying myself. Was this what it was going to be like from now on? Never enough of me to go around? One girl would always be getting less of me than she needed? I was a little freaked out.
But here's what I've found: there are most definitely moments where I'm stretched thin. Usually they involve a nursing Brooke and a sobbing, tantrum-throwing Anna. But for the most part, having two has been such a blessing. I'm way more laidback about Brooke crying than I was with Anna (of course a lot of that has to do with the fact that she cries much less!) I will get to her and meet her needs as quickly as I can, but I've learned if she has to wait a minute, she'll be ok. I've learned to make the most of playtime with Anna. I might not be able to give her attention every waking moment, but I can make sure the time she does get is quality. And overall, I'm happier this way. I feel like I'm more focused. Playtime is playtime, and Anna gets 100% of me. When it's time to do housework, I have to give it my full attention or I won't accomlish anything. When it's time to feed Brooke, I sit down and focus on her and remind myself that this will pass all too quickly.
For right now, I feel like I'm the perfect amount of busy. Not overwhelmed, but just enough to make me not take for granted the time I do have.
But talk to me again in another few months when Brooke isn't sleeping 20 hours a day!
P.S. Blogger is saying I've used up all my storage space for photos, hence this photo-less post. That's also why I haven't posted a one-month update for Brooke. Pictures were taken, but I can't post them. I'll figure it out and get a post up soon, I hope!
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Brooke's Birth Story
I joked with Jamie on Monday that Anna's birth story took me several posts to tell; I could tell Brooke's in two sentences. This little girl was in a hurry to get here! Here's how it happened:
We went to bed around 11 on Sunday night and I was having Braxton Hick's contractions, like I did most every night at bedtime. I didn't think anything of it because it wasn't at all unusual. Every contraction made me feel like I had to go to the bathroom, so I kept getting up. I wasn't looking at the clock or keeping track of how often I got up, but I would guess between 11pm and 2am, I probably got up 4 or 5 times. Maybe if I was timing it I would have noticed a pattern, but I wasn't.
At 2 I woke up with a particularly uncomfortable contraction, but it still didn't feel like the real thing, just a slightly more crampy Braxton Hick's. I was laying in bed, rubbing my belly, waiting for the discomfort to pass so I could get up more easily, go to the bathroom, and go back to sleep. And then my water broke. I gasped and grabbed Jamie's arm, startling him awake and told him, "My water just broke!" And then the fun began :)
He got out of bed, called his grandparents to come stay with Anna and threw a bag together for himself. I already had my bag packed (a lesson learned from Anna's early arrival - pack early!), but Jamie tossed in a few last minute items like our camera and then we were ready to go. Except that this whole time, while Jamie got us ready to go, I was just sitting in bed unsure what I should be doing. I finally snapped out of it, put some clothes on, went into Anna's room to give her a kiss goodbye (and you know totally break down and start bawling over how she wasn't my baby anymore) and then we were ready!
This whole time I was having contractions and I kept expecting them to get really painful, but they weren't. A couple of deep breaths was all I needed to get through each one. Once we were in the car, they started to get a little stronger, but I could still talk to Jamie through them. As long as I could squeeze his hand and take a deep,slow breath during each contraction I was fine. I tried timing a couple as we drove in case they asked me at the hospital how far apart they were coming. Within two minutes, I had three contractions. I decided that "less than a minute apart" was a good enough estimate.
Once we arrived, I asked Jamie to go inside, tell the registration desk we were there and ask them to come get me with a wheelchair. My water had already broken, my contractions were kinda weak but close together, and I had no idea how far along I might be. I didn't want to try walking in. I had one really strong and painful contraction while I waited. And let me tell you something, when you're waiting in your car having contractions it feels like those wheelchair people take FOREVER!
They got me registered and in a room quickly and asked if I felt ok to go into the bathroom and change into a gown. I did feel ok. Until I got in there. Then I quickly started feeling not ok! I had a very strong contraction, felt like the baby was coming NOW, sat down on the edge of the tub and could not move! Jamie called for the nurses who came in, helped me out to the bed and then helped me get changed. The midwife came in, checked me and said I was complete and the baby was coming! Two pushes later, Brooke was delivered, just 1 hour and 20 minutes after we woke up! Thank goodness we got there when we did or Jamie would've delivered her on the side of the road! After her arrival, Jamie and I were just looking at each other, laughing and going "What the heck just happened?"
Brooke did great. She had a little bit of trouble clearing her lungs and the pediatric nurse considered having a respiratory doctor have a look at her. But within a few minutes she was breathing really well on her own. I got sick after delivery and felt pretty crummy for a few hours, but nothing like what I went through with Anna! By 6am, we were both doing great and ready to move up to the mother/baby wing to recover. Brooke's official time of birth was 3:21am on Monday, and by 3:00pm on Tuesday we were ready to head home!
She's a super easy, content baby who hardly cries. She's such a wonderful addition to our family and we are really enjoying her!
In case you're wondering, her name is one we liked for Anna but we knew Anna's middle name would be Marie and our second daughter would have the middle name Ellyn (after Jamie's mom). We decided Brooke sounded better with Ellyn, so we decided to save it. After discussing every other possible name in the book, we went back to it. One thing I wasn't too sure about was that I liked Brooke, but didn't love the nickname Brookie. It's funny though now that she's here, I call her Brookie all the time. It's just her.
Thanks for reading my "2 sentences" that of course turned into a saga!
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We went to bed around 11 on Sunday night and I was having Braxton Hick's contractions, like I did most every night at bedtime. I didn't think anything of it because it wasn't at all unusual. Every contraction made me feel like I had to go to the bathroom, so I kept getting up. I wasn't looking at the clock or keeping track of how often I got up, but I would guess between 11pm and 2am, I probably got up 4 or 5 times. Maybe if I was timing it I would have noticed a pattern, but I wasn't.
At 2 I woke up with a particularly uncomfortable contraction, but it still didn't feel like the real thing, just a slightly more crampy Braxton Hick's. I was laying in bed, rubbing my belly, waiting for the discomfort to pass so I could get up more easily, go to the bathroom, and go back to sleep. And then my water broke. I gasped and grabbed Jamie's arm, startling him awake and told him, "My water just broke!" And then the fun began :)
He got out of bed, called his grandparents to come stay with Anna and threw a bag together for himself. I already had my bag packed (a lesson learned from Anna's early arrival - pack early!), but Jamie tossed in a few last minute items like our camera and then we were ready to go. Except that this whole time, while Jamie got us ready to go, I was just sitting in bed unsure what I should be doing. I finally snapped out of it, put some clothes on, went into Anna's room to give her a kiss goodbye (and you know totally break down and start bawling over how she wasn't my baby anymore) and then we were ready!
This whole time I was having contractions and I kept expecting them to get really painful, but they weren't. A couple of deep breaths was all I needed to get through each one. Once we were in the car, they started to get a little stronger, but I could still talk to Jamie through them. As long as I could squeeze his hand and take a deep,slow breath during each contraction I was fine. I tried timing a couple as we drove in case they asked me at the hospital how far apart they were coming. Within two minutes, I had three contractions. I decided that "less than a minute apart" was a good enough estimate.
Once we arrived, I asked Jamie to go inside, tell the registration desk we were there and ask them to come get me with a wheelchair. My water had already broken, my contractions were kinda weak but close together, and I had no idea how far along I might be. I didn't want to try walking in. I had one really strong and painful contraction while I waited. And let me tell you something, when you're waiting in your car having contractions it feels like those wheelchair people take FOREVER!
They got me registered and in a room quickly and asked if I felt ok to go into the bathroom and change into a gown. I did feel ok. Until I got in there. Then I quickly started feeling not ok! I had a very strong contraction, felt like the baby was coming NOW, sat down on the edge of the tub and could not move! Jamie called for the nurses who came in, helped me out to the bed and then helped me get changed. The midwife came in, checked me and said I was complete and the baby was coming! Two pushes later, Brooke was delivered, just 1 hour and 20 minutes after we woke up! Thank goodness we got there when we did or Jamie would've delivered her on the side of the road! After her arrival, Jamie and I were just looking at each other, laughing and going "What the heck just happened?"
Brooke did great. She had a little bit of trouble clearing her lungs and the pediatric nurse considered having a respiratory doctor have a look at her. But within a few minutes she was breathing really well on her own. I got sick after delivery and felt pretty crummy for a few hours, but nothing like what I went through with Anna! By 6am, we were both doing great and ready to move up to the mother/baby wing to recover. Brooke's official time of birth was 3:21am on Monday, and by 3:00pm on Tuesday we were ready to head home!
She's a super easy, content baby who hardly cries. She's such a wonderful addition to our family and we are really enjoying her!
In case you're wondering, her name is one we liked for Anna but we knew Anna's middle name would be Marie and our second daughter would have the middle name Ellyn (after Jamie's mom). We decided Brooke sounded better with Ellyn, so we decided to save it. After discussing every other possible name in the book, we went back to it. One thing I wasn't too sure about was that I liked Brooke, but didn't love the nickname Brookie. It's funny though now that she's here, I call her Brookie all the time. It's just her.
Thanks for reading my "2 sentences" that of course turned into a saga!
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| Brand new! |
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| Getting acquainted |
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| Meeting Anna |
Friday, August 3, 2012
Happy Birthday to Me!
I'd like to start off by saying cake is good, but icing is awesome! Mommy was right - sugar is delicious. I had a great time on my birthday digging into my cake, opening presents and, once the sugar kicked in, going good and crazy and entertaining everyone.
Now that I'm one, I'm doing all kinds of fun things! I started taking a few steps on my own and every day I get better and better at this walking stuff. By the time my little sister arrives, I might give up crawling altogether. I like to stop and do headstands from time to time. I bend over, but my hands and head on the floor and stick my tushy up in the air. Just like an olympic gymnast.
I also talk A LOT. I have a few words, although Mommy and Daddy are the only ones who understand me. I say "Ruff!" when someone asks me what a puppy says (I also say "Ruff!" if someone asks me what a kitty says...or a pig...or a cow...). I also like to find things on the floor, hold them up to show Mommy, say "Yuck!" and then put them in my mouth. Most of the time I just babble. I tell a lot of stories and will talk all day long. I like to tell secrets, too and will whisper to someone if they whisper to me. But I can be very loud, too!
I still love to eat, but only if I'm having what Mommy and Daddy are having. If they try to eat in front of me without sharing I get very angry!
By my next post, I'll be a big sister!
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| Yum! Cake with blue icing! |
I also talk A LOT. I have a few words, although Mommy and Daddy are the only ones who understand me. I say "Ruff!" when someone asks me what a puppy says (I also say "Ruff!" if someone asks me what a kitty says...or a pig...or a cow...). I also like to find things on the floor, hold them up to show Mommy, say "Yuck!" and then put them in my mouth. Most of the time I just babble. I tell a lot of stories and will talk all day long. I like to tell secrets, too and will whisper to someone if they whisper to me. But I can be very loud, too!
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| I love being one! |
My hair is getting long and I can finally wear bows. But of course, I pull them out as soon as Mommy puts them in. I put stuff on my head all day - toys, clothes, Mommy's sunglasses - and love for anyone watching to tell me I'm so pretty!
I come to Mommy and Daddy for snuggles now. I'll lay my head on their chest or shoulder and say "Ahh ahh". They tell me it's adorable :) Mommy thinks it's especially cute when I lay my head on her belly and snuggle with my baby sister.
I still love to eat, but only if I'm having what Mommy and Daddy are having. If they try to eat in front of me without sharing I get very angry!
By my next post, I'll be a big sister!
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