Mini Clay

Looking lots like her papa. Beatles onesie from superCanadian, Jordan.

The Chesney and me, out on our swing. It's one of my favorite parts of the house -- a totally enclosed porch, only accessible through our living room door, with perfect neighbor-spying sensibilities. H and I like to read books out there or just quietly rock and enjoy the shade. When Clay gets home from work, we light a Citronella candle and crunch ice together while we talk about our days. Or quietly surf the Internets side-by-side as the sun sets. Ah, romance.

I waited a whole 6 months

In happier times. Minutes before Doogie made her discovery.

I've tried my damndest not to be that crazytown first time mama who calls/crashes the doctor's office for every little thing. When she was a newborn, I chatted with the ped over the phone about her stuffy nose. And other than that? I've been able to stick to her regular well child visits.

Uh. Until yesterday.

As I nursed her on the front porch (pretty sure the shrubs hide me...pretty sure) I saw a little spot upon her marshmallow skin. On her scalp a couple inches above her temples. If she had hair, I wouldn't have noticed it. But she doesn't, so I did. It was red and underneath the surface and didn't disappear when I pressed on it. After checking with Dr. Google, I decided her brain was probably bleeding.

What? You don't see the LEAKING BRAIN FLUID?!

But it was so teeny teeny tiny small that I felt semi-psycho about bringing her in. And so I called instead and asked for a call back. Which I didn't get. So then I had to call after-hours care. And they told me it was probably fine, but worth a visit today. Which kind of made me want to puke, because they didn't just say "It's DEFINITELY nothing! Go drink a cream soda!"

This morning, the dot/spot/brain bleed was lighter and looked even more insignificant. But I still felt a nagging worry about it. So I took her into doctorman. Who was so nice about it, really. Assured me its size and color and one-off status made it harmless. And then asked me if I was maybe just worried that she'd have a noticeable red mark on her head. Uh no. Do I really look that vain? (Don't answer that.)

Now that we're home and she's obviously fine and the dot looks even lighter and I can finally breathe, I realize I was suffering under some kind of pre-period (yes, it's actually back -- last time was just a side effect from shitty birth control -- so now Clay and I will be sleeping in different beds until I'm ready to try again, say 2012?) insanity. Like, truly, the hormones made me 100% believe that a small dot on my child's head was the end of my peaceful little life. I was pacing my whole house, hyperventilating, crying, pulling on my hair, eating her little cheeks like they were about to disappear forever. I wish it were on tape, really. I could say it was a documentary on NUTJOBS and win something. Like a free cream soda.

(Oh yeah - I changed my blahhg layout. Chu likey?)

My two dads (and a dog)

Bugaboosugar's Uncle Lee has been hanging with us since Friday, getting me ice cream when I bat my lashes and killing the bat in our basement. (I know. I'm thinking of moving.)

It was a total trip to see her figure out the Lee and dadzone combo. They...sure...do...look...the...same?! But...they...aren't...the...same?! MOM!MM!O!!M!??!?!?!

She whipped her head back and forth between the two of them for five straight minutes, trying to get her bearings. Good thing I don't have me a sissy -- she'd probably implode.

Lee brought his dog Cocoa along and I admit to being a wee bit nerv before they came. HJ hasn't been around dogs before and I had no idea how I'd she'd react. But then...I met Cocoa and completely relaxed. What a little bug. Harps has something of a hair fetish and will grab any and all hair in her path. Coc's totally went with the flow, occasionally lapping up some baby sweetness, but otherwise napping it all off.

She be licking my hand, momz? MOMZ?!

But it's cool. Cuz I got her ear. And I'm wearing a dope bow.

After much thought...I'm into this lion all up in my cribz.

Belly laughs

Our little Harpspants is a real tough crowd when it comes to laughing. Smiles? Non-stop. But laughs? Woah. Hard to get. Like her dad in that sense, I s'pose. (Unless you're Richard Pryor, he probably won't give you a giggle. It's not your fault.)

We've probably gotten a good belly laugh out of HJ...three, maybe four times? And what works the first time will certainly not work the second time. Because by then, of course, it's super old news and completely unfunny. So I work my ass off all day long trying to get it out of her. And because it's super random, I never know when my work will finally pay off.

Although there is a slight theme to her comedy taste. I'd probably call it...vaudevillian?

Flashback Friday

Alright, so it isn't too far back of a flashback, but...

LOOK AT MY BABY AT ONE DAY OLD.

I was quite prepared for an alien/bug/blob newborn, but this little plumcake came out instead!

I'm sorry (no, I'm not) but -- !!!!!!!!!!!!

In other news, Clay's bro -- Harper's Uncle Lee -- is making the scene today (we think? those young ones -- he's older than me -- so unpredictable) to meet his nieceypants for the first time. I'm guessing he'll find her awesome-to-very-awesome, no?

Bring yo' own baby yoga

So I haven't updated lately on how I'm doing with the make-new-friends-before-you-start-talking-to-a-volleyball project. My current grade would probably be a...C. Well, C-. Our trip home was a big undertaking and then we started the move and, well, it was easy to forget about my friendless status. (Don't you always want to pronounce that "stay-tus" like the Brits? Just me?)

But now that we're slowly getting settled at the new pad, it's slowly sinking in that I need to get a l-i-f-e. Luckily, I have made a couple pals in town that I'll hang with/walk with/yard sale with. But it's not regular and I need some regularity. That came out wrong.

It's hard to get motivated, though. Especially because I found out a couple weeks ago that one of my best friends (and birthday mates woot!) is taking the SF-to-Denver train, too, (we send missionaries -- BEWARE) and soon I'll be able to hang with one of my favorite people on a very regular basis. However. I still need other friends. I know. I know.

I'm mailing in an application today for Mom Group Numero Dos, which I have higher hopes for. I'm researching music classes and swim classes and French lessons (okay, no) for bubs. I'm trying to be chattier with other mamas when we're out and about at King Soopers/farmers market/Target. And yesterday, I tried my first BYOB yoga class.

Wasn't quite sure how I was going to get any actual yoga done with my sidekick there and all told, I really didn't. Sure, I fit in some deep breathing and a few downward dogs, but much of the time was spent making sure Biscuit didn't escape her little square of real estate. And/or talk so loud they brought in the authorities. The teacher made it clear that "anything goes" (mostly referring to breastfeeding, I think), but holy loud chatting from H bomb! She literally did not stop talking/squeaking/singing the entire time. Yoga really moves this one, yo! Luckily, the other moms were great and thought she was hilarious (she is, she is!) instead of annoying.

Okay okay, but I jumped too far ahead. The best part was the beginning of class, when the teacher asked us to go around the room and talk about how we're finding time for "me time" (the gist of all the answers was...we're not). A little touchy feely, but hey! I went to theater school. I can nail this.

It gets to me and I explain I'm finally getting a little alone time because Biscuit is sleeping better these days. And she asks me what I think has helped her make the shift. And I launch into my no-more-binky/eating-solids/more-physically-active-now spiel. And she's nodding and smiling and adding commentary. Largely in the "that's just what Dr. Sears says" flavor. (Which, I don't know. I used to like the man. But now I don't. I actually want to punch him. But that's another post. If I ever get the energy.) Anyone who quotes that dude to me as their One True Source is...probably not going to be my best friend.

So then! I go

"Oh! And I let her cry more now, too."

And then THE DARKEST CLOUD OF ALL TIME descended upon her face.

Like I had just said

"And I like to punch her in the face, too!"

She doesn't say anything else. Just pauses. Swallows her barely-contained-disdain and turns to the next mom.

"And you?"

It was nothing short of amazing.

But! I liked the other mamas -- they weren't fruitcakes who sang every cheesy Namaste song out of key -- and think I'll go back, just as a fun routine, just as a place to be with other people living the baby life, just as something to do every Wednesday. And hey! Maybe I'll even ask one of 'em on a date next time. Maybe.

Biscuit and a pseudo muumuu

A rainy day and the post office and a stale bran muffin.

Summing it up

Bear with me for two seconds, pals.

I spend a lot of time thinking how lucky I am to have Harps as my daughter. Clay and I always remark how sweet her soul is (and then quickly wonder where the hellz that comes from). She's sweet and smart and silly and has these blue eyes that just punch your gut.

But as much as I want to claim her as my, my, mine? I don't really like putting it that way. I always want her to think of herself as belonging to...herself. With mama and dadpants in her corner, always loving her the mostmostmost. But not owing us anything or feeling any pressure to be anything/anyone.

This (part of a) poem by (my fellow Lebanese dude!) Khalil Gibran explains beautifully how I feel about the whole thing. I heard this way back before I had my own bub and it gave me chills. I love it even more now.

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
(Clay's rolling his eyes right now, FYI.)

And...back to regularly scheduled cute fo-tos soon. 

I'm afraid she's inherited her dad's taste

Because she really ripped my New Yorker to shreds.




And can we discuss her Yoda/Dopey-the-Dwarf (both serious Halloween costume contenders) ears? They seem to be sticking around and honestly, they delight me (and everyone who sees her) daily. Crunch munch crunch!

Life without Ikea

Because we now live in a bigger place, we need a few extra furniture items. A couple more dressers, a TV stand, some cutie things for the nursery -- and so on.

But life in Colorado means life without Ikea (and Trader Joe's DON'T GET ME STARTED) and so instead of our one-stop-shop for all things home, we're having to think outside the big box.

Which is good, really, since we're both into design things and prefer real stuff to fake stuff. It's just that Ikea is so easy. And the meatballs so flipping amazing.

We attempted flea marketing yesterday, but it was a scary-person-drunk-person-stolen-merch-blazing-hot-sun-weird-lotions-for-sale-instead-of-antiques kind of place.

My dreams were dashed (always wanted to write that) until this morning when walking back from breakfast (at the best little bakery/eatery/awesomery) we happened across a garage sale. And soon we had a rocking chair, side table, and two dressers in our backyard, in various states of disarray and repair and refinishing.







The neighbors love us!

Just wait till my cloth dipe line is up! Weirdo hippies dot com!

Baby jorts

I wanted to post a video of Harps belly laughing, because man -- that's a good way to start the weekend.

But I'm still on a weak sauce Internets connection and after 4 failed uploading attempts, I'm over it.

So instead? I present to you -- baby jorts:







My mom bought those puppies for her and I totally forgot about them until last week. They were HUGE when when she got them in April, and now? They are almost cutting off her thigh circulation. Damn those delicious turkey legs!

Her auntie Noel bought her that scrumptious striped halter.

Her mama and dadpants bought her the bald head.

This picture makes me chuckle because it's 5 seconds after waking up from a nap. Rosy cheeks, bed "hair", fuzzy eyes, and her little Chesney grin.

Will you please excuse me while I make a cup of tea and dip her inside to sweeten it?

Waiting on her waitress

This is what my happy baby looks like:




She saw me mashing her avo and started freaking the f out.

On the hunt for a highchair, since me sitting on the floor is too much for my old lady knees to take anymore. Any recs?

In other news, I've become the bounty hunter of wasps. They seem to be a special deelite of Colorado summers and I'm always worrying they're about to eat H's face.

Every other cleaner/product in my house is non-toxic, but put a can of Raid in my hand and I will go warrior on those bastards.

Can't take my eyes off of youuuuu

So. This is what happens now when I run into the kitchen to make my coffee.

Started on the playmat. Rolled four times to reach the hardwoods and (jackpot!) the paper towels. This girl loves paper somethin fierce. Mmm. Delicious!

Mama needs to get this girl a corral. Stat.

Total game changer

Harps can rock a restaurant highchair now. Dude.

You know the drill

No real Internets till we're all set up, but! Things are going great thus far. Tonight (Sunday) will be our first in the new pad and I'm deelited. Last night I wasn't ready to leave (and may have thrown a mini tantrum) but all our day-to-day living stuff was back at the apartment.

So! Here we are now. Harps has been a total champ all weekend (asleep in her CRIB, not a flippin pack 'n play, as I type), the weather has been glorious, cc and I are eating our nighttime cereal after swinging on our front porch swing and listening to a little rain, and all is feeling right with our little world.

Exhausted as f, so bedtime for mama. Pictures to come when things look purty. Muah.

Why would I want to push my babies AWAY?

Super amazing obviously-made-just-for-Harps onesie from our awesome pal Nikki.

We're moving tomorrow (fhoeureapr er!!!) so I've been making sure to get my fill of the fancy coffee down the street from our current digs. I like to go in the late morning, when the air is still a little crisp, and put the Biscuit in some sort of carrier. She loves to see the cashier and the other customers and the passing cars. (Serious car obsessive, this one.)

Now. I absolutely own a stroller and absolutely use it quite a bit, but because it's really lightweight and streamlined, it doesn't have a cup holder. And so when I'm buying coffee, I need my hands.

Today, I went in, ordered my iced latte and then stood by the counter. The barista-types were oohing and aahing over Harps and I made her give a little fake wave. Then they turned to each other (two feet from me) and started chatting. Loudly.

Girlpants One: "You ever see that movie Away We Go?"

Girlpants Two: "No -- is it good?"

Girlpants One: "So funny. About parents trying to find the right way to raise their baby. And there's this great part where they hang out with this one chick played by Maggie Gyllenhaal. And she's nuts and will only wear her baby in a carrier! She's like "WHY WOULD I WANT TO PUSH MY BABIES AWAY?"

Girlpants Two: "Hilarious! Can you imagine? Not using a stroller? Ew!"

Girlpants One: "I know! I don't get the carrier thing AT ALL!"

?????????????????

Did I unknowingly put on my invisibility cloak?

In other news...happy Friday!

T minus 3

Built in the 1920's from a Sears kit.
I want to hug it and then brush its hair.

Not that I've done...anything to prepare for it (well, a few loads of laundry and lots of late night mental obsessing), but in three days we be moving! I remember it seeming years away when we signed the lease and now -- woot!

I can't even tell you how ready I am to get into OUR OWN SPACE. I still have an insane need to nest and, uh, there's no nesting in temporary housing. I get by with my cloth diaper fixation and cleaning the sink five times a day, but I'm itching to mop some floors and decorate a nursery and hang up a clothesline and cook a pie. Peach perhaps?

Sometimes I find myself staring into space, dreaming about how I'll arrange my basement laundry room. Not exactly what 18-year-old-me would have imagined for 28-year-old-me (that would have been Broadway, thaaaanks), but...it makes me insanely satisfied and at peace, this life I have. Go figurez.

The furniture and boxes (our stuff! I haven't seen it in months!) are getting dropped off Saturday and then...the chaos begins. Huzzah and hey!

This is cracking me up

I wanted to take a quick pic before our pool swim to show off our matching brown suits. But somehow we ended up looking like a horror flick poster.

Me = evil villain. Harps = my innocent victim.

And your little dog, too!

Harps eats avocado

A little biased, but pretty sure this is the cutest thing. Ever.

Just started little HJ on solids this weekend. (Well, truth be told, she had some whipped cream and apple sauce in Maine.) She'd been staring at us eat and we thought it might be time.

Uh yeah. It was time.

Hang in till at least :40 when ladybug gets a little...grabby.

Feed! Me! Seymour!

5 months! And: In defense of crying

And then she fell over.

Guys. A five-month-old is, like, a real baby. That I can put on my hip and go about my business (cleaning cloth dipes, making quinoa, dancing) with. That's an important test in my book. The hip test.

While the newborn days were magical and gooey, I'm really in love with this phase. She really feels like a little sidekick now. Beams at me when I come back into view, flirts during nursing, is thisclose to sitting without help, grabs my hand/the spoon and pulls it closer for more rice cereal, rolls around like a bale of hay, chats like a Kathy, loves all music (specifically, uh, John Mayer?), digs shopping (facing out in the Bjorn), and has finally started napping. Like, actual naps. Nighttime sleep is...not quite resolved yet. But some nights are better than others and I think moving into the new pad (less than a week!) will help things out.

One big change around here is I'm letting little muffinpants cry more. For the first 4.5 months of her life I barely-let-her-squeak-before-attending-to-her-every-need-Her-Highness-I-am-her-beeyatch. Which was the right style for me. Those first few months are all about building trust and I worked at teaching her I've alwaysalways got her back.

But lately things were getting semi...out of control. She wouldn't sleep without fussing first, so I picked her up and rocked her down and soon I was, uh, letting her sleep in my arms all the time. If she cried in the car, I would pull over right away. I was starting to turn down social invites because I had to drive and driving meant crying and...yeah. Slippery slope.

And then we went back East and attended Grammy bootcamp. Since I'm my mom's baby, she doesn't quite like seeing me held hostage 24/7. So we mixed up a few things in the daily routine and saw some real changes. Because turns out...sometimes babies need to/like to cry some? Not for hours, not alone in a dark corner of a closet, not if her other needs aren't attended to, but yeah. She lets out her ya-yas, releases some tension, gets to be alone with her feelings. When she's tired and just tired (not hungry/cold/wet etc) it almost sounds like angry talking. Crying: It's a thing!

I've yet to get hardcore with it (read: Ferberize) (though I don't even think Ferberizing is really all that hardcore anymore), but I've really changed my mind on the whole thing. Now it actually seems a little ridiculous that everyone's trying so hard to avoid a little crying. Because, ahem, babies cry.

And hey! For those mamas that are anti-crying-it-out? I feel you, I hear you, I get you. Because trust me -- I'm still a major softie. I'm just a little less afraid of some noise.

Bon voyage redux

A little chilly in New England town this morning.

Harps and I are hitting the road (skies) in a few hours. Pretty much a perfect trip.

Though really ready to see Clay. Whew.

Reporting from Denver soon!

Harps gets serenaded

We get a little out of control in this family with the sing-a-longs. Harps shook an almond-filled container and looked in awe at her uncle. She loved it, but note to self? Save the concerts for earlier in the day or she'll take a bajillion hours to wind down and fall asleep. (And please excuse my obnoxious mama giggle.)

All dwe-thed up

Lookin sha-hp for my aunt and uncle's surprise 40th.

In love with those rainbow leggings, a hand-me-down from the cuz.

Sorry, but isn't she getting rather delicious?

Harps' version of a wine cooler on the beach

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Happy on the right coast

Sitting on the porch, sunny pushes in the stroller, snuggles with Grammy, and first skinny dips. Life is pretty alright back East.

Bon voyage!

This was making me laugh way too hard

We need to get out more.

Doh. Nut.

Sunday was a good day around these parts. Well, the first 4/5ths of it anyways. Bedtime was...interesting. But we're focusing on the positive, peeps! (Originally typed as "pees" since that's what is currently covering the mattress cover and sheet and bouncy chair and my thighs and I can't think straight above the stench.)

MOVING ON.

We all woke up a few before 7 and snuggled sleepily for a bit. Then Clay said the magic words:

 "Would you like me to take her so you can sleep?"

and I screamed politely answered:

Yes!

Well holy dude, I woke up some time later, rolled over to peek at my phone and what? 10:00?! My boobs confirmed the time was correct. (You know what I mean if you know what I mean. If you don't -- you're lucky.)

Pulled on some sweats and scurried out to the kitchen, where I a) saw a clean countertop b) heard the dishwasher running c) SMELLED DOUGHNUTS.

Drool pooling in my mouth, I looked for my family. Neither Bisque nor Clay were in sight. A peep around the corner saw my babe happily cooing in her exersaucer. I scooped her up and ate her face, soothing her furrowed brow. Because it was obvious she was really missing me. *cough*

So yeah. Extra sleep, clean kitchen, and doughnuts. Pretty much my perfect trinity of perfect.

However! Lovely day or not, I have now consumed 5.5 of the 6 doughnuts purchased and I'm feeling...a tad...doughy. I don't buy them for myself because, as you can see, I can't stop. They are my unsafe food. So I'm very sorry, Michaela, if I'm unable to fit in the bridesmaid dress come Saturday. Blame my husband?

What are your unsafe foods, friends? (I also can't be trusted around spaghetti.) (It isn't pretty.) (Or clean.)

The best things in life aren't things however

They can still be purty fun.

Yeah yeah, I know said I was sticking with the truck and Clay was getting something else. But we're all about insane back-and-forth car declarations in this household. Eventually, even he could not resist the pull of the Mighty Subie. And so it was! Uh, is.

Dude's gonna drive the truck and the Mama Mobile is now a kick ass Outback. I learned how to drive on a Subie (maroon, zero get-up, automatic), graduated college driving a Subie (light blue, Allston resident, stick shift), and here I am once again -- driving a Subie (light grey, 3.6V, delicious). I'm in love a duv duv.

*drives to the mountains, singing James Taylor*

This (very shaky) video is mostly for my brother

Also known as Uncle T.

But I also like it because it looks like I'm letting Harper drive a la Britney. (Don't you miss her crazy days??)

This was post our nursing session in a one stalled, no-lock bathroom in Starbucks. With a quick top up in the car. (You can see my quick did-I-button-my-shirt? check) Ah, the dignity of nursing.

Humble piez

I'd just written mama-to-be Kalen an email, begging her not to keep baby-to-be in the carrier seat all the time, like those "women in target who strap their baby into the baby seat and attach it to the cart and tool around and ignore them. booooo."

Fifteen minutes later, I was pulling into Whole Foods with a sound asleep baby in the back of the truck. If I moved her into her stroller, I wouldn't be able to push both it and the food cart. (Still working on harvesting that third arm I so desperately need.) If I woke her up and put her in the Bjorn as planned, she'd be missing out on precious napsleep and be miserable. So, uh, I put her on the cart and, uh, tooled around Whole Foods.

As I was paying up, I snapped the shaky shot above to send to Kalen. Because of all the advice I like to throw at her (sorry, frand!), this is probably the most important: As a mama, you have to eat your words about 12,876 times a day. It's...pretty fillling.

Slow days

Other than our doctor's appointment yesterday, Harps and I haven't gone anywhere this week. We've got a big trip a week from tomorrow with lots of different...parts to it (flight to NYC! lots of wedding festivities! train to Boston! car ride to Maine! etc etc etc), so I'm trying to keep this week super low key and restful.

But good God, sometimes low key and restful = OUT OF MY SKULL BORING.

There's just so much we can do together.

We've got the reading of books.
The singing of songs.
The tummy time'ing.
The Bumbo bumbling.
The naps in my arms.
The naps in her bouncer.
The naps not in her crib.
The walks in the stroller.
The walks in the Bjorn.
The checking of the mail.
The sitting on the balcony.
The sitting and staring into space.
The picking at her cradle cap.

And all of that gets done before noon.

Sometimes, I swear she looks at me after I've gone pee and come back into the room, and sighs. Like really? You again?

If you can't tell -- we're still on the hunt for pals. *talks to myself*

Docta and pixie

So we love our new docta docta. Perhaps he's not (half) as handsome as the last, but he's a lot less too-cool-for-school-look-at-my-surfboards. He's young and has a 6-month-old baby lady, so he's really in tune with what's typical for Harps' age. And whenever he had some advice to give, he'd preface it with: "But this is just my take on it! Do what works for you!" It was nice.

Lil Junebug Bucket is still in the upper percentiles of growth (mostly in the 80's) and ahead of the game with her toe touches and rolling over. Woot woot for hardcore tummy time! She'd rather chill somewhere else (my arms), but mama forces her onto that playmat all day long. I'm like a really boring gym teacher, with only one game. Anywho -- I liked getting the props for her acrobatics, as it didn't come easy! (Read: many, many tears.)

As for sleep, sounds like I've trained her to eat too little too frequently. Common issue with breastfed babes and hopefully, since I'm attacking it early, shouldn't be impossible to fix. It will take time, but I'm confident we can gain some extra hours. Might not be for a month or so till I can really tackle things, since we've got a big trip back East planned as well as moving to the new house (IT'S ALL I THINK ABOUT), but yeah. I feel better about my future zzzz's.

And last night, extending a small olive branch to her sleepy mama, Harps fell asleep around 9:15 and slept till 1:00. Not bad! 'Course I woke up in a sweat, convinced the BFG had stolen her because I hadn't heard a peep. But progress, progress.

In other news, I'm sort of becoming obsessed with the idea of a pixie haircut. My thin hair is so limp and ick these days and gets greasy just from the effort of making coffee. Plus, Harps pulls on it all the live long day. No, I'm not breaking out the pleated jeans and white tennis shoes (though I am jonesing for some old school Keds) with a stereotypical soccer mom look -- I'm talking super super short. Thoughts? Yes? No? Am I insane? Halp.

Totally confused

Where in the world did the past four months go? I mean...huh? That picture above is Harps on her way home from the hospital. It seems like yesterday, truly. But also, oddly, I feel like I've known her forever and ever. Strangeness.

Tomorrow we've got her four month check-up with a new docta docta. I have a feeling his eyes won't be as blue nor his teeth as shiny as our SF dude. Sigh. I probably won't even bother looking cute.

Curious if she's stayed in the upper percentiles of growth and ready to ask some questions about sleep. Because people. I'm trying not to dwell on it, but she wakes up every two hours all night long. There are no 4 hour chunks, let alone 5 or 6 hours. So yeah. I know he won't have any magic answers for me, but I guess I'm looking for a "It's normal/it'll get better" reassurance. Here's hoping.

And yeah. Shots are in order, too. Gag a maggot!

Solo Sunday

The Harpsichord in rare form.

Is yet another weekend really wrapping up? Time is flying lately. Woosh woosh.

It was a good one over here. Yesterday we enjoyed a sunny day at a friend's baby shower, last night there were sushi rolls topped with strawberries, blue Fla-vor Ices for dessert, gummy grins for a nightcap.

And this morning, Clay offered to take Harps on a little daughter/dada field trip to check out some bikes. (For him. She may be toe-touching, but bikes are at least a few weeks away.) At first it sounded glorious! Free time! And then it sounded terrible. Free time?!?! My belly actually turned all fluttery and weird and I started squeezing her all nutjob-like. She can be a real nightmare in the car, so the thought of her sad without me there made me want to die. But I knew I was being ridiculous -- that a) Clay's superdad with her and b) I really needed some alone time. So I said yes.

As they walked down the hall to the elevator I had to force myself away from the door and back in the apartment. There were many awkward deep breaths and hair tugs. (Not what baldy needs.) Before I could vomit, I threw on my bathing suit (ONE PIECE) and ran down to the pool. I had to do something other than pace the halls and mop up my puke.

And you know what? As soon as I hopped in the water and started kicking, I relaxed. I was alone. By myself. Sans...anyone. I pushed off the edge, blew bubbles out my nose, and smiled underwater. I followed up my dunk with a sun soak (haven't done that in ages -- babes and sun don't mix) before heading back upstairs to our balcony. I grabbed a muffin, poured some coffee, and read my first New Yorker in a long while. (You're welcome, David Remnick! I know you miss my readership.) It was heavenly.

They still weren't back, so I headed to the back room for a little snooze. I was packing a whole day of leisure into 2 hours!

They still weren't back, so I ... started to lose it.

Clay had checked in a couple times, so I knew they were alive, however -- was she flipping out? Would Clay pull over if she really started screaming? Did she forget who I was!? Was she slowly starving to death?!

The only thing I could think to do was clean. Clean clean cleaNCLENACLEANCLEANNNN. Swept and swiffered the floors. Started a load of laundry. Sorted through old mail. Wiped down the counters. Threw out old leftovers from the fridge. Organized the bathroom vanity. I got so desperate that I folded our laundry. If you know me, you know this means I was nearing nervous breakdown levels.

However! Just as I folded that last pile of undies, I heard the door click and my two favorite people strolled in. Calm, quiet, all grins. Apparently they had a lovely time -- cruising around, shopping, buying us some lunch. Turns out baby acts happy in the car when she knows mama isn't there to fulfill her every whim. Who knew!

Moral of the story? Trust your baby daddy or you'll end up folding his boxer briefs.

Soon I'll look like her

No joke, guys. I had just weighed myself and done a little happy dance because the number was a pound lighter than my pre-pregnancy weight. Thank you kindly, nursing/carrying-baby-all-day/genes/no-time-to-eat! Things don't look exactly the same as before (it's all still a bit...soft) but hey! It's not like I was a bikini model before. (I suddenly have a tiny -- very tiny -- amount of sympathy for those mamas who were.)

So I hop in the shower, feeling pretty dang good about myself. Get my hair wet, pour some cucumber shampoo in my hand, lather up, feel the hot water on my face, PULL OUT FIVE POUNDS OF HAIR.

I am not lying.

Well, it might not have weighed five pounds. I'm not sure anyone's hair weighs that much? Even in its entirety? But whatev. You know what I mean.

I guess I should change it to FIVE FISTFULS OF HAIR.

Because that's what it was. Big chunks and clumps and handfuls of my innocent locks.

I knew this happened to other postpartum ladies. But nope nope nope not me; I truly thought I'd escaped the shed. Turns out it doesn't kick in till around 3 months post-baby. So just as we're starting to regain some normalcy to our appearance, we get hit with the bald stick. For shame, hormones!

And that massive loss was only Day One -- which happened about three weeks ago. It hasn't stopped since. I try and clean up after myself, but there's just so much I can do. The end of the first week, Clay got into bed at night and asked in a scared whisper:

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Because it looks like I'm dying of some mysterious illness, where all I want to eat is cupcakes and fake margaritas.

But I am okay. Just bald. And tired. And squishy.

Enjoy your weekend, those-with-hair! (And those without. I'm just a little less jealous of you.)

Sleap

I forget how to spell it because I DON'T KNOW WHAT IT IS ANYMORE.

Tough few days (weeks?) over here in the sleep department, folks.

Gotta go attend to my screeching babe.

I'll get through this. Right?

This little piggy

So apparently babies turn almost-4-months-old and suddenly become little people! Who do things!

Harps is cracking us up these days with all her little tricks. She's a pro at grabbing things (rattles, iPhones, book pages, MY HAIR), tummy time, rolling from tummy to back, scooting toward things she wants, flirting with herself in the mirror, and chatting up a storm. But my absolute favorite?

Toes = candy.

Biscuit in the basket

Hi! My name's Clay and my wife likes to make my eyes look crazy. (And my name's Harper and I'm starting to look quite a bit like my Dada.)

We've got a bunch of babywearing devices 'round here (Moby, Native, Ergo, Comfy Joey, Bjorn) and while each one has its purpose, it really comes down to whatever Harps wants to hang in at the moment. Because lemme tell you -- there is NO forcing her into something she's not feeling. I've almost lost an eye doing that and sorry, but -- I'm quite fond of my eyes.

She definitely goes through phases. For the past month or so, she only wants to face OUT. So that hundy plus I spent on the Ergo? Not worth it just yet. (I think she'll dig it when she can hang out on our backs in a couple months.)

We were borrowing a Bjorn from our pals in SF, but had to return it when we moved to the mountains. But very lucky us made some new pals here in Denver and we got another Bjorn loan. Score! Thank the lawd because she really, really loves it. Today, I was able to shop Super Target*

(*OH MY GOD SUPER TARGET. Have you BEEN!?!?!? Super cheap/cute apparel AND homegoodies AND tons and tons and tons of grocery options? I'm all about organic/local/small shopping, but there is seriously something to be said for 12 different Jell-o flavors, no? But I got so flustered and overwhelmed, peeps. Sweat was pouring and I couldn't even decide on an ice cream flavor. Next time, I will be victorious!)

for over an hour, while she just hung like a happy kanga baby, making the occasional coo when I passed by something she liked. (Milk.) So useful. And, dare I say, cute as 4 dozen buttons?

Look! I exist!

I realized recently there are almost zero pictures of me these days. Wonder why? It's like there's something else, just a teensy bit cuter, that's replaced me? Hmm.

 But anywhoz. Clay was taking some cute pics of the scone baby this weekend and instead of hiding, I grabbed her and struck a pose. So here! I'm real! I exist!

In other news, the weekend was lovely. Got most things I wanted to checked off the list, though we didn't get to visit inside the house (current tenants out-of-town) OR visit the Biscuit Bus (didn't coincide with naptime).  However! We still swung by the new pad and I ogled the backyard, actually getting a little teary picturing us back there -- planting flowers, sipping lemonade, making a tiny snowman. No idea what came over me -- I don't even have pregnancy to blame anymore...

Oh and I guess we also didn't trade the wagon for a Suby. (Maybe all I really got done this weekend was watching LOST and eating yummy foods? Oh and the baseball game! We did make it there. Shew.) We're still going to ditch the wagon (it's not 4WD and is just overall janky), but I'm going to take over the new truck and Clay's going to get a little zip zip sporty car. Feeling a tad intimidated by the HUGEness of the 4Runner, but I do enjoy its badassness. Vroom vroooooomz.

And finally, I fell in l-o-v-e with Cafe Rio. I'd read about its radness on a few Morm Utah-based blogs, but oh my heavens that s&*t is good. Hopefully you live in Cali, Colo, Utah or a few other Western states becase apoiru0294-(8s43!!! Dee-lish. I shall now eat there for every lunch I can. Amen.

Your weekend? Was it good?

Mem day

Dudes. I need a vacay.

Three day weekend, frands! And this is the first one in a long while that will actually feel like Mem Day. Blue skies, warm air, ice cream cones, flip flops, sweat. Stuff like that there. Because in San Francisco? There is wind and scarves and hot cocoa. In years past, I'd read people's Facebook statuses or tweets -- all about tan lines and junk -- and I'd hang my head. Then put on my mittens.

So! I'm more than a little excited for the days ahead. Harps and I are kicking things off in the 'burbs with our new pals, scoping out the yardsales and enjoying the mountain view. Nothing crazy on the sched for the rest of our days, but I'd like to:

1) Visit the new pad! I'll take some pics for ya'll to gawk at.

2) Hunt down the Biscuit Bus and scarf a biscuit. Aw, yeah.

3) Take Harps for her first swim in our ("our") pool.

4) Drive somewhere Colorado-y with the fam. You know -- trees, a river, maybe some mountains.

5) Rockies game! (Just snagged some tix.)

6) A couple dinners or lunches or brunches or snacks outside.

7) LOST finale. Yeah, we're real behind. Pretty much know what happened already -- life with a babe!

8) Trade in the wagon for a Subaru. Denver? You own me.

And whatta 'bout you guys? I know my SF pals will be snowboarding, but the rest of you should put on that SPF and eat some cupcakes. Kah? Kah.

My honeybunchesofoats

Man, I love that little bald head. I'll be sad when she grows hair and I can't sniff/smush her candy skin all day. Though if you look at old pics of her mama and dad, I've got quite a few more months to enjoy.

Un-homeless (and some unrelated pics)

Guys. I'm so ridiculously happy with the Denver pad we just snagged! All love and thanks and kisses go to Clay, who found the listing/toured/filled out app/interviewed/emailed/moneyed, etc! I was nervous we wouldn't get it (probably adding to my sad sackness yesterday), but hallelujah hurrah huzzah we did!

So what is it? An adorable, full-of-character-and-cool-architecture house right near a great park/shops/things! It's got hardwoods and a yard and plenty of space and a lurvely kitchen to bake cupcakes and and and! It's exactly the type of place I was excited to live, now that we're out of The Most Expensive City Ever.

We don't move in till early July, so we'll be hanging downtown for another month or so. I plan on using the time to scout out my new library branch, grocery store, jogging route, and Starbucks, hip/local coffee shop.

I'm starting the family-you-should-come-here-for-Thanksgiving campaign...now!

Mommy dating

So I have a buddy guy husband and I have a biscuit love baby, but I seriously need some good mom friends. And to get them, I need to date them. In the words of my friend Jeanne, "It's like J-high again, but this time you have an infant on your person instead of 10 binders."

I had my second round of playgroup today. And it was...fine. Nothing crazy or out-of-the-ordinary or even blog-worthy happened. I hung with a couple moms and their babies and then Harper fell asleep and we drove home and I stopped at a Starbucks (drive-thru! such a novelty to a city girl) and...cried. I'm not even really sure why, but I did. Not a sobfest, just one of those pathetic, silent, Indian-picking-up-trash-by-the-road [[post-edit because my husband thinks that sounds crazy/racist: I'm referencing the commercial from the 70's! he put it in the comments!]] cries.

Don't get me wrong -- I'm really fine. It just feels lonely to be new. To be "on" all the time and worried that whatever little comment I make will forever brand me the overprotective mom (I use a video monitor) or the not-protective-enough mom (took me till today to find a new pediatrician) or too preppy (beemer wagon!) or too crunchy (cloth diapers!) or whatever.

Also? I'm irreverent and nerdy and non-religious and non-boozing and judgey. So finding a lurve match can be tough. But I'm sure everyone feels that way, right? That they're fancy and unique and unicorn-y and complex to mesh with.

So I guess it's simple, really. I just miss old friends who know me and know Clay and put up with our quirks and sauciness and love us anyway.

*eats my feelings*

Happy weekendz!

Hope it's as yummy as a baby sprinkled with cupcake crumbs.

I'm trying

We all know about my inability to dress our daughter like a lady. I favor white onesies, navy sweats, black hoodies. What can I say? That's what I feel comfy in, so I treat her the same.

But it's finally getting to me. All those "how old is HE?" and "aw, what a cute little GUY" and on and on and on. So I'm trying to make things a little clearer to the outside world. Not signing up for 24/7 bubblegum pinkness, but I'm definitely making a concerted effort to punch up the girl quotient.

Mom and I went shopping last week and snagged some super cute girly tanks. They're great because for now, I can layer 'em up over a onesie. And for summer, they can go solo. And I have to admit, I'm loving her little pinkover.

Trying really hard not to write about diapers

Because...that's weird, right? To be really obsessed with cloth diapers? And all the different combos you can do? Prefolds with a (blue! or yellow! or pink!) cover? Fitted (mauve paisley! or skulls!) without? Hemp inserts? Special soap? Cute little bags to hold the dirties?

Harps and I took a trip to a cloth diaper store today. And it was awesome. I got some new stuff for nighttime after chatting with the peeps hanging and working there. Then I skipped out of there and sang a lullaby to Mother Earth.

HELP ME.

Okay, um, what else what else what else.

WHAT ELSE.

We're still house huntin' over here. If we were on HGTV, we'd be obsessed with stainless steel appliances and a double vanity and an open floor plan and perfectly painted walls and plenty! of! space! for! entertaining! (How many parties do these people have???) But instead, we're still trying to figure out the perfect 'hood for us and how much a yard matters and whether we care about hardwoods. AND WHERE WILL I HANG MY DIPES OUT TO DRY.

F. That didn't work.

Um.

Oh! I called a sitter today. *faints* Clay's assistant at work gave us a rec and I finally called her today, after nearly throwing up from fatigue. I'm not ready to head out the door with a jaunty wave, but I think I'm ready to take a nap in the back room while someone plays with Harps. I think. (I'm actually seriously queasy thinking about doing this. So any "you can do it!" words would be much appreciated...)

But wait! Will the sitter be able to do the cloth diaper thing? Will I need to keep buying disposables? Maybe if I get one of those half disposable/half not combinations that'll work? Is there a --

I...I'm sorry. It's hopeless.

My favorite time of day

Never thought I'd say this -- and of course I wish she'd sleep later -- but morning is now a happy time.

Harps wakes up between us (her last shift of sleep is in our bed), smiling and cooing. We take turns sleepily smooshing her cheeks and kissing her forehead, inhaling her marshmallow scent. I slowly pull her toward me for a milky breakfast while Clay takes a shower. When she's done, I sit her on my lap and she watches her daddy get dressed. She stalks his every move -- clothes on, hair combed, shoes picked -- wide-eyed and smiling. Before he leaves for work, there are more cuddles on the bed while I fumble for my glasses and put on some sweats. There are group hugs and kisses and Clay is soon out the door, leaving his ladies to start their day.

Very important developments

1) Clay bought us a twenty dolla iced tea machine yesterday. My life is now complete. And my teeth are never going to be the same. (Manic ice crunching. Yellow stains.)





2.) Thanks to some hand-me-downs from my lovely cousin, Christie (via my mom's suitcase), I'm now doing the cloth diaper thing. And totally loving it. Wasn't sure if I could handle the change or really understand how to make it work without leaks and catastrophes, but so far so great! We even bundle her bum up at night without issue.

(**Full disclosure, middle-of-the-night post edit: I totally jinxed myself here. Just had our first leak. Doh. Think I'll add an extra layer for nighttime...**)

Only downside so far? Clay's horrified. But let's be honest here; the dude's a great dad, but not a great dipe changer -- even with disposables. So (for me) this isn't a big deal.

Happy to answer any questions thru email for those looking to switch (tho I still have more to learn myself), because I don't want to turn BJA into a potty blahg. But seriously -- if you haz washer and dryer, I can't recommend cloth highly enough.




3.) Harper is rockin' tummy time finally. She used to immediately lose her s%*t when we put her on her belly, but now she hangs out, lifts her head, looks around, and even seems semi-delighted. She eventually cries, but omahgod -- my babe won't still be stuck on her back the first day of kindergarden.





4.) Our first day of playgroup is tomorrow. *obsesses over outfit* And get this -- our little group is called the Junebugs! Perf for our little Harper June, no? Weeeesh us luck!

*tear*

My full-time nanny mom is leaving tomorrow and I'm feeling a bit bummed. It's been a hah-uge help having her here -- more than I even thought it would be. Not only has there been someone here to help jiggle Harps and comfort her and bathe her and snuggle her, there's been someone here to talk to me all day. Which is huge. I rely a little too much on the company of HGTV hosts (what up, Suzanne Whang!), so it's lovely to have someone around who talks back. (In a good way.)

It's shown me I really need:

A) Some palz. But I knew this and I'm working on it. (Mom group let my punk a&$ in! Waiting on a playgroup assignment, which I think will really help get the friend ball rolling...)

B) Some daytime halp. Not a lot, not a ton. But maybe a few hours a week so I can go for a run ("run" -- more like a determined shuffle) or take a nap or go grocery shopping solo. Or pee with the door closed?

Also realized I'm really looking forward to consistently good weather, where I can frolic in a sundress and put Biscuit in her new $2.99 Target girly shirts. (Hearts! Butterflies! Pink!) Because you know what? IT SNOWED HERE. Snow. On the ground. May 12th. Holy Cow-lorado. (Sorry.)

Navy

Baby and mama live in it.

Even if we look like boyz.

Monday, monday

Frandz!


I hope everyone had a great momz day. I loved mine -- extra sleeps while Clay manned the Biscuit, blueberry pancakes, tulips, new hot pink kicks (for the running I'mma start THIS WEEK), new hair products to halp my insane static electricity hair (thanks, Colorado!), Chiptole (there is one ON EVERY CORNER HERE), and a drive through some purty neighborhoods.

Sometimes I get all weird about going places with Harps because I hate when she freaks out in the car and it's just easier to sit on our couch. But I'm so glad Clay pushed my bum out the door and treated me to treats and showed me the world outside babies. Does a mama good!

Of course, I didn't get to see my own mom pants. However! I couldn't feel sad too about this because she's coming in late tonight for a week long visit. YES PLeASe. While I really appreciated the help early on, when she hung in SF with us for 6 weeks, I'm super excited for the help (and c-o-m-p-a-n-y) this week. Instead of a cute little blob baby I was rocking before, I've got a real little person on my hands now, which is... a lot more work. There's no more plunking her down in a bouncy chair while I do the dishes or pull off a hangnail. If I'm looking at something other than her? Loud, loud, loud NoiSeS.

!!!!!!!!!

So! Long story short, I'll love having Grammy around to entertain Her Highness while I pee.

I say happy mama's day!

Harps says talk to the handz.




xo.

(Yesterday, Harps was) 3 months old

Somehow our little crumb cake is three months old. Wha' happened?!

Even though I'm constantly sleep deprived, dressed in men's pit-stained v-necks, and functioning on coffee and Paul Newman's mint oreos exclusively, I can honestly say I love being Harper's mama. Somehow, every night, after 12 or 13 hours together just the two of us, I'm still taken aback by her sweetness and my luck at being given her to raise and protect and smoosh. Call me loco, but I actually miss her when she goes to sleep.

(Though I'm also 10000000% ready for some adult time. Don't get me wrong, peeps - I'm not insane, just in love.)

Enough of the rainbow butterfly unicorn talk.

Here's a video of our little siren, the Junebug.

Quick!

While Harps takes her one reliable nap (the morning variety - usually about 40 minutes - we're 15 minutes in) I somehow bathed, lotioned, dressed, made/drank coffee, and uploaded some new pics. Efficiency gold medalist.

Hadn't hit you with some Biscuit sweetness in a couple days, so here ya go. Check out the drool bubble she's got poppin'. And yes, I do spend most of my days just nibbling on her cheeks.

House hunters

We spent this weekend roaming around the city, checking out neighborhoods for our future home base. The two knowns: We're (almost definitely) sticking with renting and we want to find a house. Other than that...we're pretty open.

It's tough to ignore the insanely beautiful mountains, so maybe we want to find a pad out in the country, where I can run around in a petticoat and sing songs about horses. But on the other hand, I really like being close to...things. Like cafes and shops and other places containing human life forms.

Then there's the issue of lots-of-character-and-neatness-but-probably-old-with-bad-plumbing vs boring-architecture-but-shiny-kitchens-and-no-black-mold. Since we're (most likely) not buying, we're leaning toward the latter. We don't have to live in the place forever, so the coolness factor matters a little less; might as well enjoy some newness while I bake cupcakes.

We're enjoying our downtown loft right now and we've got a little time to figure out our next step. I think we'll get a better feel for what's right for us in the next few weeks.

In the meantime, I'm busy keeping our delicious lil baby milked-up. She's going through her three month growth spurt and girl can EAT. Good to be doing the nursing thing during these spurts, since mad, intense hunger can hit at anytime and her food source is always at the ready. It's tiring, but definitely handy. There was lots of impromptu feeds throughout our weekend jaunts and I was grateful for our feeding routine.

Sorry, (or you're welcome?) Denver, for all the nipple shots!