A Winter ONEderland Unfolds...

About a month before Abby's birthday, this story floated around my Facebook feed.  My intent is not to start a social/political discussion, but it really struck me.  It's a letter to an advice columnist from a mom who thinks her son has decided to be gay (and she would like to convince him to change his mind) because he is trying to get back at her for forgetting his birthday three years in a row.  The focus for most people, of course, is her non-acceptance of her son's homosexuality, which I think the columnist responded to beautifully.  However, seeing as how this came out a month before Abby's birthday, and I had already been planning her birthday party for a month, I was absolutely befuddled that this mom had forgotten her son's birthday, you know, the day she gave birth to him, for not one, not, two but three years in a row.  Even if you and I have different opinions about gayness, I think we can probably agree about the birthday thing.  Now, this woman says she is "very busy with work," and I am a recovering event planner turned stay-at-home-mom, but still.

But anyway, the point of this post is not to give social commentary on homosexuality or to go on about what a horrible mother I think this woman is, but to discuss about how I may have gone a little overboard with my own little one's first birthday.  No chance I would forget this girl's special day a single time.

At the party, a friend said, "I think people just do those crazy parties so they can blog about them."  I don't know if our party was "crazy," but I'm blogging about it.  If you're bored by party-planning, just skim for the pictures or skip this one all together.  I'll post about the actual birthday goings-on soon.

The Lady with the Baby, Reprise

I realize I haven't written about any fall holidays, Abby's birthday,or Christmas.  In light of my last post, though, I'm inspired to write about an incident that happened about a month ago, right after Thanksgiving.  Festive posts to come soon!

Last February, I wrote a post about people's reactions to tiny babies. Maybe it's because Abby was/is particularly adorable and charming, but I suspect most people with small babies have people say these types of things to them.  It usually opens with something about how precious/adorable the child is, then sometimes follows up with some vaguely ominous warning about the future.  "They're cute until they start talking back."  "Just wait til she starts moving." "Can I trade my teenager in for her?" I usually just smile and nod, because what can you say?

The Sunday after Thanksgiving, Kevin and I went with friends to the Christmas tree lighting in Bel Air.  Afterwards, he, Abby and I had dinner at a local restaurant.  Sitting near us was a large group of what appeared to be an extended family, including two preteen girls.  Abby was being very charming (as usual), and was smiling and waving at everyone.  As we got up to leave, one of the mothers at the table turned to us to tell us how adorable Abby was.  I smiled graciously and thanked her, but then she added something unusual.

"It just keeps getting better and better," she said.  "My girls are so much fun.  Did you see that dance routine they did? (We had, and it was awesome.) They made that up while we were waiting in line to check out on Black Friday. People always tell you to enjoy while they're babies, but things are just so good now."

I thanked her.  It was so refreshing to have someone say this.  I had already sort of figured out that each stage has its own challenges and rewards, but to hear this offered up by a stranger was a gift.  I understand the message to "enjoy them now," but why does it so often have to be followed by, "...because you might not enjoy them later!" Which is more or less the implication.  I know my sweet girl might not always be sweet, but she'll always be MY girl and doing something wonderful.  Or developmentally appropriate that will eventually be something wonderful, in any case.  :)

The Best Christmas Gift

A little more than a year ago, we got the best early Christmas present.

  

Recently on Facebook, I posted this picture, comparing last Christmas to this Christmas:

and a friend of mine commented that she didn't get nostalgic for the early days with her kids, the way a lot of mothers do.  I replied that there are things here and there I get nostalgic about, but that, despite that precious photo from Christmas 2012, I am certainly not nostalgic about the newborn stage.  I'm reminded of a conversation I had with a pregnant friend - she said, "Birthing sounds horrible."  I paused, because in a way, birthing was horrible, but it was also wonderful (which is what I told her), because at the end, you get this incredible little person to fall in love with.  What is really horrible, I thought, hours after our conversation, is having a newborn. And the newborn stage lasts much longer than labor. I would have given birth two more times to skip the first month. But more on that another time.  Again, it's the same thing.  It's painful - in a different way than labor, for sure - but, in the same way, wonderful, because now I have a happy, playful, twelve-month old, who is a joy. And, in the grand scheme of parenthood, both labor and the early days are so fleeting.

So, while I don't long for those early days of two-hour stints of sleeping, one-hour nursing sessions, and forgetting to eat until 5PM, when I look at pictures from last Christmas, I am reminded of what a special time it was.  I remember feeling so blessed to have a family that brought Christmas to us so that we could focus on our new baby, and not have to miss the holiday.  So thankful to have plentiful hot food available, at least for a few days. On Christmas Eve, a light snow fell, and I remember hugging my sweet, eleven-day old baby to my chest, and looking out the window, feeling like everything was magical.  "This is Christmas," I thought.

And then, we tried to read The Night Before Christmas to Abby, which did not go nearly as magically as I'd imagined it would.  It ended with tears (Abby's and mine), and Kevin reading the book to his brother's dog, Stanley.

Stanley enjoyed it.  Things went a little more smoothly with Abby this year.

The point of this post?  To capture memories I didn't have the energy to get down last year, I guess, and a reminder to live in the moment with this little one, and be realistic about where we are and where we've been.  And to celebrate the blessing of our little girl and wonderful family!

A real Christmas post later!

Daddy's Little Girl

It should come as no surprise that Abby is "Daddy's Little Girl."  Really,every post about her could be titled, "Daddy's Little Girl."

Daddy and Abby on Fathers'  Day

It's fairly obvious.  After all, many, if not most, little girls are Daddy's Little Girl.

Daddy and Abby blowing raspberries, which is hil.ar.i.ous.

After I took Abby's ten-month pictures the other day, I just took a few random shots of her laying on the blanket.  And, while I've always thought she looked more like her daddy, in a few of these, she CLEARLY looks just like her daddy.

This the only picture where I think she looks like me at all:

In the parking lot of the Bel Air Library. 

There's a bit of "Palm" in the smile. That's why it's one of my favorites.  I know she'll continue to come into her own look for awhile, yet.  No matter what she looks like, though, one thing is for sure.

At Annie's Playground

She'll always be Daddy's Little Girl.

Past and Future Travels

I've been looking for inspiration to write a post, lately, and was ready to just do a, "Look! Abby's Still Cute!" post (in case you're wondering: she is) but came across something tonight that rekindled an idea for something I've wanted to write about since January.  I wanted to write about what it was like, after giving birth.  How so many things, physically, mentally, and emotionally, were unexpected and unexpectedly hard.  And how it seems like no one talks about it.  Or, if they talk do talk about it, it just doesn't sink in to the expecting-parent brain, because it's clouded with gleeful anticipation for the coming bundle of joy.

That's not the post I want to write today, not entirely.  I have a laundry list of weirdo things that I experienced postpartum, and today I just want to touch the tip of the iceberg of one of them.  

Before I gave birth, I thought that I was probably predisposed to Postpartum Depression (PPD). I've never been Depressed (with a capital "D"), but have had bouts of melancholy and a little bit of a family history.  I wasn't too worried about it, though, because I knew I would be willing to get help.  Also, there's a difference between knowing intellectually that you might get Depressed after giving birth, and another actually going through it.  Having said that, I still don't think I had PPD, just a serious, lingering case of the "Baby Blues."

I'll write another time about how I cried at EVERY. THING.  One day, a brochure for Viking Cruises came in the mail (We get these all the time.  I don't know why.)  As Abby slept, I sat in the living room, flipping through the pages that described fanciful cruises through exotic European ports, and started sobbing.  We loved to travel.  What had we given up by having this baby?  We would never get to go on one of these cruises; never see these beautiful places.  I felt a tremendous sense of loss for our old life.

Tonight, I went into our craft room to find some thread, and I stumbled upon my travel journal.

Artsy picture taken at Cafe Cubano in San Francisco with a tasty cafecito on the side.

This is a blank book my friend Liz gave me for Christmas from a market in Budapest when we visited her grandma there in December 2000.  Since I had just finished six-weeks student-teaching in London and spending weekends traveling through Europe, I decided to use the journal to keep track of where I had traveled and wanted to travel.  

I still use it to make plans for our trips, listing attractions and restaurants I'd like to visit, then going back and making notes about what we thought about them.  I also include super-helpful things like this highly-accurate map of England and Scotland:

When I came across it tonight, I flipped through it and stopped at the last filled in page from our trip to Germany.

And it's funny, because Nuremburg wasn't even the last place we went.  Like so many things, time caught up with me and I never finished planning the trip. The rest of it just...happened, I guess.  No more notes.

And that's the last big trip we took.  Our Baby Moon to Amish Country didn't even rate a page heading.

And that made me a little misty-eyed.  Remembering that trip, and thinking, as I had when I perused the Viking Cruise Brochure, that it would be a long time before we'd have a trip like that, again.

Then, I glanced up, and on the desk I saw this box of holiday cards, with a bold message on the front:

The best is yet to be.  It is here now and it keeps coming.  For all the challenges, sacrifices and exhaustion, I am generally happier than I've been in a long time.  And, while Kevin and I might never be the same "Us" we were before, I'd like to think that we still have the "Best Us" ahead of us.

PS. Here is proof that Abby is still cute:

Staying Busy and Sanity

It's hard to believe that Abby will be nine months old tomorrow!  Seems like she just turned eight months...

 

Eight months is a very serious age.

Ok, not that serious.

I initially felt a little bit at a loss when we got back from our Outer Banks vacation in July.  Having family around to play with Abby all the time sort of threw me off.  I realized that Abby and I were both ready for a routine.  We've slowly been developing one over the last two months, and I'm feeling pretty good about it, now.  Of course, it will probably change any day now, as Abby continues to change.

The main thing, for my sanity, is to make sure we have activities planned for everyday, and to make sure we get out almost everyday.  Being a stay-at-home mom in a world where most people aren't is very lucky, but can also be very lonely.  Getting out and about helps!  We try to go to Diaper Gang, a baby story time with rhymes and songs, at the Harford County Library every week. It's fun.  Abby seems to love it, and I get to talk to other mommies.  I've also joined a great online community, Chesapeake Mommies, that has a lot of useful forums and a fairly active activities calendar.  We go to as many play dates and activities as we can.  

Grocery shopping and lunch with Daddy on Thursday (usually).  La Leche League Breastfeeding Cafe at Wegmans second Monday of every month.  Free coffee with purchase of bulk beans at Coffee Coffee on Monday.  Not that I buy coffee beans every Monday, but you get the idea.

We've started going for a walk everyday, even if it's just to get the mail.  When it's hot, like it's been the last few days, we just go up to our mailbox and back (we have a very long driveway).  If it's nice, we'll do the whole street.

 

When the temperature hits the mid-80s, it means it's time for the baby pool!  It's a little easier to manage than taking her in the regular pool, and, in any case, we've been losing an algae battle for the past few weeks.  I fill the pool up in the morning during her nap, so the water has a chance to warm up, and make sure I set it in a place where there will be shade later in the day.

I had forgotten about her swing for a couple of weeks, but we've rediscovered it, and she loves it!

We also spend a lot of time in her Exersaucer and playing with her stacking rings.

I know the jig is about up, though, as she thinks about trying to move.  Which, she's not totally into just yet, but I know it's coming.  Mamas, any advice for entertainment once she gets going?

Any day now.

Abby Goes to the Beach

...well, a little anyway.  Abby's first beach vacation was a little light on the "beach," but full of fun and excitement!

About a month ago, we took our annual Ulmes family vacation to the Outer Banks.

Abby went to the beach for the first time, and dipped her toes in the ocean.  She wasn't a big fan, as you can see below.  But my parents tell me that when I was a wee one, I was scared of the ocean, too.  A wave snuck up and startled me, and I was supposedly afraid of the ocean for years. I don't remember ever being afraid of the ocean, though, so I apparently got over it, and I'm sure Abby will, too.

This new adventure wore her out, though.

She had a little more fun playing in the warmer, more sedate tide pool a few days later.

This wore Abby out, too.

We didn't spend nearly as much time at the beach as we normally do.  The Ulmes don't like to go to the beach in the middle of the day to avoid the sun's cancer-causing rays.  However, Abby tended to take her naps before and after peak sun-time.  So, it was hard to sneak in beach time before dinner time and bedtime.  Abby did manage to stay up late enough one night for us to get some beautiful sunset pictures at the dock near our house.

We're looking forward to next year when Abby will be able to go down to the beach more and have even more fun playing!