The Lover

Our girl has a big heart. She is intense about her love, and takes it very seriously. Yesterday at church, she captivated an older boy. We sit in the "parents of young children" section, where she can roam the back of the church unfettered. There are pews withing 10 feet of this little area, and Gillian immediately scooted up to the back pew and started waiving at two little boys (maybe about 2 and 5 years old) sitting with their parents. She kept trying to stand up and touch the older one's hands, and after a while retrieved her ball from where we were camped out and offered it to him. His dad let him leave the pew to play with Gillian, and he would very gently toss the ball to her and fetch it when she threw it (what a great kid he is, really). Sitting close to him, she got THAT look after about 15 minutes of this...the look that says "right at this moment, I love you with all my tiny being" as she sat facing him. She leaned in for the kiss, and he let her kiss him, and then she wrapped her little arms around him for a hug. I don't know about anyone else, but I was very, very proud of her in that moment for 1) having allowed that depth of emotion within herself; and 2) not being afraid to express herself to That Which She Loves. They continued to play, we all went for communion, and then it was time to go. It felt like her new friend might cry when he came over to give her a hug goodbye (and what a sweet boy to do that-I could tell that it touched Gillian and made her happy that he loved her back). That whole exchange blew me away.

It just begs the question of whether or not we LEARN to love or whether it's inherent. I mean, she adores people, animals, and certain other inanimate things. I find myself wanting to be more like Gillian-she is wide open. Her love flows freely in and out. Her eyes are wide an innocent and give her away every time. When she gets intense, you can feel her little love energy coming at you full force, and it is powerful. She gets quiet. She looks you right in the eyes. She kisses you and/or hugs you and backs away, holding your gaze. She means it. Then the spell is broken and she's off chattering and playing and being a baby. But seriously, there are moments of Yogi-master-wise here-and-nowness that floors me. One of my resolutions this year is to break my heart wide open...to get back to that place. Ironic that the perfect example of mindfulness in my life is a 15 month old toddler.

An aside:

I had mentioned her love of my feet. This morning I videoed a foot love-fest. I can only assume she learned from me kissing her feet all the time. I don't think my feet have ever been so adored my whole life. And she doesn't love everyone's feet like she loves mine. Mine are special. For some reason.

Imitation is the best form of flattery...

Like father, like daughter. Folks, this is just one of the fine skills we are teaching our child. Can't you just see her little synapses multiplying from exploring this new skill?!?

Christmas

Last Saturday we headed down to New Orleans for Christmas. The airport was absolutely crazy (and I usually fly a lot, and this was crazy even for crazy days), and for once, it was a good thing our flight was delayed, or we would have missed it. I believe I have mentioned before how ridiculously one's luggage volume grows with the inclusion of things for Baby. Needless to say, thank God for the overpriced carts you can rent to haul the carseat, the bags, the diaper bag, the laptop, and whatever else you decide you can't live without for 5 days. Anyway, the flight was delayed 2 hours...then we sat on the tarmac for 45 minutes...then we finally got airborne and Gillian-for all the potential circumstances gave her for a good old fashioned meltdown-nursed to sleep and stayed asleep (and stayed latched, with her two top teeth etching permanent toothmarks into my delicate flesh-but far be it from me to excavate the teeth, much less even breathe hard, in a mighty effort to keep her sleeping) for about an hour and fifteen minutes. She awoke like a cheerful little sunrise, and was just thrilled to have our undivided attention for an hour (the remainder of the flight). These days she's totally into lounging back and looking through books with people, and playing with her stuffed animals.

We arrived to a ghost town of an airport in New Orleans, and after watching the luggage carousel for about a half an hour so hopefully, it became clear that our bags weren't there. But, here's the silver lining-the carseat WAS there! At least they lost the right stuff instead of the thing that would cause us to have a moral quandry about how to get to our destination in the rental car. Anyhoo, the bags were coming in on the flight from Chicago that was arriving a few hours after ours, and they promised to deliver it that day to our doorstep. No worries. Then we went to the car rental place. As we waited for the shuttle, it occurred to me that it was humid and warm out. Nice. When we got to the car rental place, we waited for 45 minutes to be helped. With a baby, who, for whatever reason, was in fine spirits. Laughing, and smiling at everybody, and playing a game that involved trying to catch and trying to throw her stuffed dog. It is still a mystery why not one of the five other employees who were standing around volunteered to help us (while the one employee flirted with the guy in front of us for 45 minutes). Then I remembered how I so enjoy the service sector down south, and gave silent thanks that I don't have to deal with it more often.

We arrived at Aunt Mimi and Uncle Dave's 8.5 hours after we left our house that morning. I reckoned that was about twice as long as it should have taken. We got G down for a nap upon our arrival, and she slept a couple of hours. The bags were delivered at 11:45 pm, and all was good in the world.

Our stay down south was wonderful...every day started with a laid back morning drinking tea and hanging out with the O'Leary clan (Sean's dad's sister's family...99% of our family in New Orleans is his mother's family, but Mimi has lived there since college). We ate too much. We drank too much (not in one sitting, but still...). We saw the remarkable transformation of Sean's dad Bill into Santa Claus to deliver gifts to the great-grandchildren on Christmas eve. Gillian got a "Mary Jane" doll that is super special-she is the third generation in the family to receive them (all the girls have one handmade). Suzi's was made by her grandmother; Kim (Sean's sister) has one made by Adee (her grandmother); and now Gillian has one made by her grandmother. It is such a sweet idea, and Suzi says the pattern is in tatters, but still does the trick. Gillian pretty much kissed her all night. She held her own in the insanity of all the other kids, and was undaunted by the yelling, laughing, rough housing, and general chaos around her.

At Audoban park, we saw real live ducks that looked just like the ones on Gillian's treasured shoes, who she quacked at as if she was the Duck Whisperer as they gathered around her to eat the bread she had. I am pretty sure I have never seen her that excited in her entire life (think feet going, hyperventilating, hysterical arm waving while yelling "CACK-CACK-CACK-CACK" like a crazy person).




Grandaddy treated G to some Roman Candy Man taffy (which she wasn't sure what to think of). Of course, we couldn't leave without a Cafe au Lait and beignets from Cafe Du Monde and 30 lbs of crawfish (which cost us roughly 1/3 per pound what we would pay here). The crawfish purchase officially means we are back on for the 5th annual Mardi Gras celebration at Chez Colledge. Hope you all will come!

It was restful and most excellent trip. It was funny to see how excited Gillian was to see all her familiar things when we got home. In spite of my best intentions, I did NOT work on my thesis while down south for Christmas in spite of the fact that I promised the pre-defense draft to my Committee members by the 28th. That means that Thursday night (a work night) I was up till 3:30 in the morning finishing up my references for each chapter...and 2 hours later, got up to go to work. I didn't know I was capable of pulling an all-nighter anymore, but I guess you can make yourself do just about anything if you have no other choice. In Friday's blizzard, I delivered 5 pristine copies to my advisor to distribute to the committee...so, now I am sooooooooooooo close. I just need to remember one thing over then next 11 days: BREATHE.

Winter odds and ends

Today we took Gillian on a toboggan for the first time. She loved playing in it and sliding across the beautiful snow we got yesterday and the day before. Even when she wiped out, she was too excited to worry about it. In fact, she was so wired when we got home that she skipped her morning nap in lieu of running around the house like a madwoman, yapping up a storm. Last year she was oblivious to the majesty, and sometimes cabin fever, winter brings. This year, she is drinking it in like a sponge.

I've been sparse around here lately. As I mentioned, life is just complicated and ultra-busy right now. Needless to say, my fascination with Gillian is still complete, and her fascination with the world is amazing, and humbling to observe. I would call this phase the "Kissy-and-still-not-walking" Phase. She kisses everything...and I mean everything. The weirdest thing is my feet (which is a little strange-I always hope she doesn't decide to give them some lovin' in public...say, church, for example, in front of those other parents who might wonder about us). She coos. She pets them like they're the cat ("good feet" I hear her thinking). She kisses them several times in a row, talks to them, and kisses them some more. She kissed her ball in the kitchen today, after an appreciative pat and a few words. Luckily, Sean and I are both the fortunate recipients of clusters of kisses numerous times a day as well. Gillian is a lovebug, and it is so sweet to see her express that. Oh, and she has gotten so freakishly fast at the crab crawl that she still isn't walking and doesn't seem too interested in it, either. She cruises, she pulls up, but that's it.

We're still holding at four teeth and still frustrated with her picky eating (Ha! I remember when I would say, "MY children will eat what I give them!" as if I had some control over the matter (maybe when you can actually reason with your child, that rule could work)...the truth is that you get so desperate for them to eat something that you compromise your previous and extremely well-intentioned but uninformed opinions). Right now she likes (and "likes" just means a piece or two might make it into her mouth, not that she gleefully eats a serving) macaroni and cheese (organic, at least), and cheese, and bread, and peanut butter...and veggie burgers mixed with mashed potatoes and peas (the ONLY vegetables I can get her to eat). She tolerates a few bites of eggs every now and then. She LOVES crackers. Every time we sit down to eat, she points to above the refrigerator where we keep them and says "cack-uh, cack-uh, cack-uh!!" Clearly, she can't have crackers at every meal... Today she even peppered whining with some"mamamamamama". Not sure if she means me, or she just likes the sound. Her three words are "Hi", "cack-uh", and "kuhh" (cheese)..."Mama" might be fourth, but I'll have to get back to you on that. She enunciates "K" for kitty (nothing else), "T" for toes, and "buh" for bottle, bulb (Christmas tree bulb), and ball.

Anyway, I never knew what a struggle it would be to get my child to eat. Last week I was so upset after making her something she completely rejected-and threw on the floor- (without even tasting it) that I left the table and the kitchen, smacking away some tears of utter frustration. I took some deep breaths, came back in, and calmly took the tray away...and cleaned up the food all over the floor. Then she started saying "cack-uh!". *sigh*

I guess at the end of the day, some patches are easier than others, and some babies are more easy going in some ways than others. I mean, Gillian has always permitted us to get excellent sleep, and still goes down like a lamb; she is secure in large groups of people, and will venture away from us to check stuff out without a second thought, she occupies herself extremely well and can play for an hour or more with a intermittent visit every now and then, she is affectionate and thoughtful, and really funny and silly. Oh, and she has never pooped in the bathtub. But obviously, our sticking point is her solid food intake. She ate a lot better when we were feeding her exclusively breastmilk...these days she won't take a bottle from anyone but me, she won't drink whole milk, and all she will tolerate in her sippy cup is water (good ol' calorie-free water). When she has days where she eats pretty much nothing, that can be stressful. Anyway, I find myself of having to make a real effort not to let the food issue become a power issue.

That's a quick update. More to follow!

Bye Bye Boobies

We are down to nursing twice a day now. It was inevitable with me working full time. At first I pumped three times a day at work for a few months, then twice a day for a few months, then the past month and a half or so, I was only pumping once a day. When I started getting just 2 or 3 ounces during that session, I decided I was officially over lugging my fraying pump backpack on the train every day (consequently, this coincided with having to start wearing my winter coat...the one where you have to dislocate your shoulders to get the backpack straps on and off). And I decided it wasn't worth the hassle of trying to get into the lactation room at work to wash the parts when I was finished. Pumping just sucks, people, and I have been pumping for going on 15 months, and I am tired.

When I work, G nurses in the morning before I go and when I put her down to bed. Both require supplementing with formula these days, and she seems to care less. In fact, if it takes me too long to let down she gives up and fusses and tries to sit up. She has to be relaxed (hence early morning, later evening) to be in the mood to wait. So, we're naturally waning, our breastfeeding sun is setting, and although it is sad, I have to say the idea of having my breasts back, all to myself, is a happy notion.

But, I have to tell you, the girls aren't exactly the same after working so hard the past 15 months. Suzi said they would be like deflated balloons. I hoped I might escape this fate, as I had heard the same from many other women. Even though I haven't completely run out of milk, I can see the hint of what I'm in for after G is done eating and we are empty. My former firm, round, pride and joy might become more like soft malleable crescent moons. But...I'll wear these butterflies with pride!

Bubbles

Perspective

So, you remember how I thought there was no worse fate on earth than a teething, grouchy, whining, clingy baby? Well, there is something worse. One that is all those things AND sick with her first cold. Unfavorite moments from this week: G's smothering while she tries to eat and crying from frustration of being hungry but not hungry enough to suffer like that, often opting not to eat at all...coughing so hard she vomited the Motrin I just gave her to keep her fever down...the learning curve of nasal aspirators and saline drops (did you know that salt water is the ONLY recommended drug for colds in children between 1 and 2 years old?? no decongestants, no expectorants, just good ol' salt water and good luck to you)...wimpering/crying after a coughing fit because her back and stomach probably ache from all the coughing, and general malaise that made me want to cry-for her and for me and my lack of sleep. In all seriousness, I don't think I have ever felt so helpless as I have the past couple of days.

But, friends, happy news. We appear to be seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Tonight she was her old self-plain delightful, dancing in her highchair, chasing the bubbles Sean was blowing with happy squeals to boot...it's as if God decided to let me have my little Monkey back after a long sabbatical away from home (and for which her stand in was Mr. Hyde). She does not have any more teeth than she had two months ago; this means the past month of teething symptoms have thus far failed to produce.

I couldn't resist this little shirt on the Target sale rack. I thought, "right?".

Thankful

We got home from our trip down to Florida last night. I can say we are in a single piece, in spite of the difficulties of travelling with a toddler, who likes nothing less than sitting still for five seconds, particularly in an enclosed metal tube with 150 other people for two hours.

This trip was bittersweet for me. The first part was very hard, and involved me tying up the last of the loose ends for my brother's funeral. Since no one else appears to be capable of dealing with the finality of his illness, I made calls to funeral homes, discussed procedures and packages, got prices, transported Dawn to see the facility and fill out the necessary paperwork, and got the Hospice minister over to pray with us and talk to us about Jim's service. On my last trip we went to the Hospice facility (where he will go in his last week or so of life) and chose a chapel for his service. In my stronger moments, I'm all about getting everything set so we are prepared, logistically at least, for his death. In my weaker ones, I lament and feel sorry for the fact that I have already lost all my grandparents and parents and now will be the last of my close relatives (although I do have a gypsy sister that I have seen once in the past 7 years). So, for me, this week was all about valuing and giving thanks for the things I have instead of regretting the things I don't. And for making sure Jim and Dawn had one last anniversary dinner (today is their 17th wedding anniversary).

That being said, I am reminded of this little coaster my mom brought home from the convenience store she worked at when I was in elementary school in the height of my adoration of unicorns and horses:

It has survived probably 25 years in my custody. I think I added the fortune cookie message after my mom died. But, as cliche and saccharine as it is, I love it because it reminds me of my journey...my learning to embrace the transcience of this life through the transformation of people close to me to eternity. It's sad, but it's beautiful for people to return home.

Anyway, my dear mother-in-law, Suzi, came down early for the holiday to help me with Gillian (Sean joined us Tuesday, and G and I left Sunday bright and early) and get a little one-on-one time in with her. We stayed right on Jax Beach, just about 10 minutes from Jim's. I really forget the magnificence of the sunrise and sunset in Florida, being away from home so long. From our vantage point:



We enjoyed quiet mornings on our balcony drinking tea and delighting in the antics of our darling girl, who with the added extra attention, seemed to forget all about the teeth that are still not in! Bearing witness to the graceful morning was such a cleansing thing, and such a priviledge.

Sean came in on Tuesday, and we spent Tuesday night with Andy-an old, close friend of his, and his very cool wife, Erin. They have a beautiful little boy named James, who Gillian really fell for. When her passion got the best of her, what could I say? She's a chip off the old block:


On Wednesday morning we headed out to Sean's family's river house for Thanksgiving ("the Farm" because they use to farm cattle there), and picked Suzi up from Grandmama's on the way down. Suzi wanted to make a pit stop at the "Hobby Horse", a children's boutique, to pick Gillian up some Robeez. Gillian is REALLY into ducks these days, and they just happened to have a pair of Robeez with ducks on them. Needless to say, she wore them out of the store. She proceeded to "quack" for at least the next 5 miles, and it is clear she really loves those shoes!

When we arrived at the Farm, a gorgeous piece of property that means a whole lot to the entire Colledge family, Aunt Mimi and Uncle Dave were waiting to greet us. They even had a little gift for Gillian-her first cammis in case anyone wanted to go deer hunting (yes, this gift was tongue in cheek...Mimi said G could now be "Putnam County Chic" and fit right in!):


The Farm is on the St. John's River, at a point where it is a mile wide. It is quiet, and beautiful, and situated among the Cypress trees. It is at the end of a dirt road, Colledge Road, miles from the nearest highway, and very private. When the world is crazy, changing every second, the Farm is what it is, and nothing ever changes there. This is the scene of Sean and Kimberly's infamous "Yard Child" incident-where their mom arrived to see them covered in mud in their underwear happily playing in the back yard. Even more-Sean's father and uncle Shep and Aunt Mimi were born there and lived there until they moved back to the city house. So, there's a million memories there, spanning four generations. We look forward to bringing G and any other children down there to create their own memories...

The house from the dock:


G visiting with her Nonni and Grandaddy:


Uncle Shep arrived with his wife Eleanor, and a giant burlap sack of fresh Oysters, which folks ate raw or cooked off the grill. Wednesday night was a night for catching up, and the whole family was there. Sean and his cousin William (G's Godfather) played tunes by the fire, we ate well, and there was plenty of meaningful conversations and joking going on. Gillian slept in the same crib that Sean did when he visited the Farm, and ate in the same high chair. Coming from a family with no tradition or sense of closeness, Wednesday and Thursday felt like a soft, warm blanket. I am 100% sure that I want to raise my children that way.

Thanksgiving Day dawned beautiful and clear. The sun came over the river like lava, spilling orange fire everywhere.


Everyone woke up at their own pace, and Dave started frying the turkeys around 9:30. Gillian loved being the center of attention, and hammed it up every chance she got. She was shameless in her flirting with her handsome cousins, who lavished her with attention (let me be the first to say there is nothing sweeter than a bunch of young guys being cute to make a baby laugh).

G with Mama and Papa (note: duck shoes)

G surrounded by admirers (who humored her during their pool game by letting her put their respective balls in the holes):

G by a tree:


Dinner was warm, delicious, and wonderful (though I skipped out on part of it to put a very sleepy G to bed).


The afternoon was for quieter conversations after a big meal, eating brownies, blondies, or pumpkin or pecan pie, or skeet shooting. I gave it a go, because I had never touched a gun, but it is safe to say I don't think I'll ever be a sharp shooter!


We got up early Friday morning and had to say goodbye to everyone, which was very sad. Our flight home was easier than the flight there because I could get up and walk G (on the way there, a lot of turbulence made that out of the question...ironic that Sean was there to share the pain on the easier flight!).

Reflecting on the trip, I feel like I understand something important that gives me peace about Jim-he found his place like I did in the arms of a real family. Dawn's family loves Jim, and have banded around him like a fort all these years. He was the orphan they welcomed into their family, just as Bill and Suzi welcomed me into theirs. He has had 17 years with a wonderful woman, and 16 with his beautiful daughter. He has fought like hell to be here, to savor every single one of those years. Life is impermanent, to be enjoyed in this moment, every second we have. We get the pleasure of living it with people we can love and who can love us. We get the pleasure of experiencing amazing things that are given perspective by things that aren't..things that ache. So, Cheers, Jim. Godspeed. And thank you, my family, for giving me a place to Be.

An aside: Gillian definitely misses her family!

Reaffirming my Faith in Humanity

I remember when I was pregnant that you really couldn't count on anyone to give up their seat on a train or bus for you, even if an obviously-pregnant you looked hot, miserable, and were putting pressure on the small of your back to ease the pressure. Death of chivalry? Nah. Just a lack of common courtesy. It's the same reason that all the 20-something businessmen avert their eyes and pretend they don't notice when an 80 year old woman with shopping bags gets on the train. They should stand up immediately and offer their seat. But they don't, and for that, they SUCK (I want to say as much as I try to guide the elderly person to my seat while staving off the oblivious folks that inadvertantly try to take the seat I am trying to give to said elderly person).

Anyhoo, today I had to go to the doctor, and Gillian had to come with me. My Metro Lite stroller doesn't feel so light now that I have a 19 pound baby and a 20 lb stroller to carry up and down the stairs at train stations that don't have elevators. But, a magical thing happened. At EVERY leg of my journey, a kind and wonderful man offered to help me carry Gillian up or down the stairs at the train station or in or out of the bus, or held the door for me. Big, scary, meaty men were playing peekaboo and waving at Gillian with big silly smiles on their faces each of the four legs of our trip, and she charmed all the boys in the waiting room at the doctor's office. She brought out the sweetness of every single person we met today with her unabashed flirtatiousness. How could someone NOT have a little happy rub off on them after seeing a delighted and pure little light like G's?

So, I want to say "Thank you, Universe!" for our wonderful experience. Although I could have managed by myself, it was so fabulous to have a little help...and as a Mama travelling solo, I so appreciated every act of kindness!

Wrecked

Do you ever have one of those days where your baby just wears you out and you feel like you could sleep for a week? Gillian has been having one of those days every day for over two weeks. Remember her fever? Seems that it was related to teething. And here we are. Still teething. And she is wearing us out. We are tired.

See, when Gillian is teething, she follows you around the house and whines, pitifully clutching your legs because she wants to be with you. Every single second. Maybe not EVERY single second, but almost. She is miserable. Even with enough Baby Orajel, Tylenol, and Motrin to kill a small horse. She is pulling at her ears, as she has been for the past few weeks...and it's not an ear infection, per the doctor. I don't see any teeth via my very brief glimpses as I try to peek when making her laugh (since there is obviously no worse torture than trying to take a look at her gums). So, I am wondering how much longer is this going to last? And, more importantly, will we survive till then? Gillian's alter ego is alive and well, and my glimpses of my happy, sweet, laid-back baby girl are few and far between these days. Last night's Friday night dinner date hearkened back to another hellish teething moment, and was traumatic enough for us that I can honestly say we won't be going out to dinner again until these teeth come through (I say TEETH instead of TOOTH because it just can't be possible that all this is the result of the movement of just one tooth). Then there's the face grabbing/pinching/poking and the "tear everything off every shelf" that is both uncomfortable (for us) and a recipe for the house to be a disaster area every day.

For now, we look forward to nap time. When we get a break-a couple of luxurious hours of the baby's sleep-it gives us time enough to recharge our batteries so we can make it through the rest of the day. But lately-one short nap instead of two long ones. So, no break. Then....ah, then, there's dinner (an on-going struggle). Here's an example of what dinner is like:


She is not interested in food. Again. Plenty of it ends up on the floor. Food is definitely more fun to play with. The latest trick is scraping it into her lap, ensuring at least most of it goes a) on her clothing, b) on the floor, or c) both a. and b. Exhausting. And messy.

This is not to say there aren't plenty of great things going on, but I am actually pretty grouchy after a rough day. Since I have been preoccupied by more than I want to discuss right now, I haven't been managing my videos properly. So, for Nonni and Grandaddy, here are a few keepers to tide you over till next weekend:

1) Gillian is pulling up and actively using the walker she got for her birthday:


2) Gillian is cruising fairly efficiently:


3) She is (and I finally videotaped it) still into brushing her teeth (of course, we are not allowed near her mouth, so it's all her):


4) And she is doing some imaginative play with giving her bath toys a ride in a plastic intertube, complete with a simulated motor sound:


There is more (learning body parts and stacking blocks, for example), but *yawn*...I am only imagining that next weekend on the plane will be one of the more unpleasant experiences of my life (and everyone elses on the plane, unbeknownst to them). Because of my brother's condition, I changed my ticket and will be leaving a few days before Sean and taking G. So, Good Luck to me. Are there such things as mommy vacations?

*sigh* and *sigh*