Baby's First Christmas

We had a wonderful holiday. I will be back to the regular routine on Monday - not that we are getting down to much partying right now. But it has been nice doing nothing at all over the last couple of days! Although I am on a blogging hiatus I would be remiss if I didn't post pictures of Baby's First Christmas.

We spent Christmas eve and Christmas day at my mother's house. She does the Christmas dinner with our extended family on the 24th. Of course my little girl got all of the attention from young and old. Her little cousins (even the two year old) spoiled her rotten with hugs, kisses and a whole lot of attention.

And yes, BABY learned quickly how to open presents. Here are some of my favorite Christmas pictures:

~ humps

Christmas Baby

I'm an only child. I'm a Christmas baby. When I tell people that my birthday is December 24th - or Christmas Eve - I get one of two reactions: delight or dismay. Usually, far more dismay than delight. People's eyes pop out of their head. Their volume goes up a few octaves. In some, disgust washes over their face. Others yet, give me solemn pats on the shoulder. They give me a hug to make up for emptiness, lack of love, disproportionally low number of presents that must have come from such an unfortunate Birthday. Of all the days in the year, it's a crying shame that I was born on that one. I was surely forgotten. I was overshadowed.

Some people mention friends of friends, and great aunts, and third cousins twice removed who had birthdays in December. Some on Christmas itself, or New Years eve. Poor souls. In the eyes of almost everyone I meet, it really sucks to be born the day before, the day of, the day after or anywhere near Christmas.

While it would have been nice to have a birthday in the summer, with it's flower themes and Slip n'Slides, I didn't know what I was missing.

When my friend's daughter was born on Christmas Eve six years ago, she asked me what being a Christmas baby is like. And I had to chance to explain in detail how magical I thought it all was. As a kid, being a Christmas baby was perfect.

My parents would have a party at our place every Christmas Eve. It was a traditional Christmas dinner, and the one day a year that all of the family, extended family and friends would get together. It was also my birthday party. In addition to the Christmas tree, garland, wreath and nativity scene, my mother would put Happy Birthday banners in the basement with streamers and balloons. Everyone would gather around and sing Happy Birthday while I blew out the candles on a big cake.

Most of my aunts and uncles would go out of their way to bring two presents. One with Christmas paper and the other with Birthday paper. I received so many Birthday cards. I never felt that my birthday was forgotten. On Christmas Eve I was only allowed to open one present. The rest had to wait until Christmas morning. My birthday spilled over for days and days.

Maybe it's because I'm an only child, but I never thought that my birthday was anything less than amazing. I was, no I am, blessed with incredible family. I absolutely love the holiday season. I love the wonder and the magic. I love the traditions. I love the excitement. I love that the holidays are a time to remember, honor and celebrate friends and family.

And now that I'm a mother, and this is my daughter's first Christmas, I love the season that much more. It isn't about me or my Birthday anymore. I get to see Christmas through the eyes of a child.

~ humps

The Day After

It's been a while since my last post. All week I have been busy planning a surprise birthday party for one of my closest friends. You guys don't understand how hard it is for me to keep a secret. I'm a terrible liar. And I talk to her on a daily basis! I also couldn't write about it on this blog or Twitter on the odd chance that she was reading it. The torture!!

The party was Friday. Big success. Lots of fun. All day I have been vegging on her couch eating leftover appetizers and cake. And BABY is decked out in her day after-party tracksuit, playing with an assortment of toys on the floor.

None of my pictures turned out any good - partly because I couldn't find my camera for the first half of the night.

But since it's been a while since my last post with BABY's pictures, I thought that I would share this one taken recently. So... my little baby:

I don't know how to change diapers...

It's sad really. That I've been able to go this long without knowing how to change diapers. My daughter is seven months old for goodness sake. I am her primary caregiver. And she goes through a lot of diapers. Many of them every single day.

But it has taken me this long to admit that I don't know what I'm doing in the diaper department.

Before I had her, I changed a few diapers. I felt like I knew what I was doing. When I had her I changed a couple of diapers in the hospital. I felt like I knew what I was doing. A nurse came and bathed her. She didn't comment that the diapering wasn't right. I watched as she put a new diaper on BABY and I felt like I knew what I was doing. In the days, and weeks, and months that followed, I did diapers with confidence. People would marvel at my diapering skills. They would say, "Wow! You can really change a diaper. That was so fast!" I accepted these compliments.

And now, I am humbled.

Because ANYONE can change a diaper on a new baby. One that stays where you put them. One that is interested in paying attention to you when you lay them on their back.

Not EVERYONE can change a diaper on a seven month old baby who doesn't want to lay still. Who turns over, and grabs at the new diaper, and sticks her foot in the poopy diapers, and kicks you in the stomach, and tries to slitter away, and wails her arms, and rips off your glasses, and doesn't want to wear a diaper AT ALL.

I don't know what I am doing. I'm not equipped for these kind of war-like attacks on the diaper doer. I wasn't sufficiently trained in diaper combat. I need some kind of diaper ninja in my corner. Some kind of highly skilled diaper wrestler. Someone to do some diaper magic.

So I enlisted a few new diaper changing strategies: (I) The distraction technique. This is where you stun the opponent with new and unusual objects / sounds / actions while the diapering continues - often to their shear and utter surprise. I started with small toys. Things that made noise. I tried singing songs. I have now resorted to using my cellphone and the remote control - the things that I venomously fought against her getting a hold of. But when it comes to diapers, a mom's gotta do... And that leads me to my next tactic. (II) The three-armed bandit. Set baby on colorful padded playmat on the floor. Be certain that diaper change items are at close reach but not close enough that baby can throw them at you. Hold baby down with left hand and right foot. Change diaper with right hand. Stay home from yoga. You've had enough of a work out.

And when in doubt, set some newspaper on the floor and let the kid roam free. Let nature take it's course. I'd like to think that is more environmentally conscious anyway.

~ humps

P.S. (Yeah I know people don't have P.S.s on blog posts but hell this is mine.) You know what just occurred to me?! Walking!! What am I gonna do? Someone teach me how to change diapers!

The Magic of Bubbles

There is something magical about watching a little baby grow up before your eyes. All of their little achievements, adventures and discoveries. Some call them milestones. I call them miracles. From a little thing who couldn't even hold her head up, I now have a person in front of me who cruises around the room, takes a book of the shelf and sits down to play with it, finds toys from the basket and takes it with her along her journey across the living room, tests the limits and strength of her legs all day, everyday.

She's just seven months yo and she blows me away. All. The. Time.

But a few nights ago, while we were doing the usual bedtime routine - bath, book, boob, bed - I saw the world through her eyes for a moment. I saw her discover bubbles. I saw her reach down into the soapy water and chase delicate bubbles with her tiny fingers. She moved in slow motion. She was gentle. She touched them. They popped.

This was not a true bubble bath full of frothy, hearty, can't escape them because they are everywhere bubbles. This was pretty much a basin of water with a few stragglers. The bubbles where the kind that fall off of the curve of babies' backs, land in expanses of water, and fight the long hard fight to stay around. They are small but mighty. And my small but mighty baby went after the few little ones that were there. She wanted to take those bubbles with her through her journey. And I got it. I want to take those bubbles too.

Having a baby, seeing the world through their eyes, is amazing. It's magic.

~ humps

It's Not Nice to Laugh At Others

My friend C over at Random Thoughts and Musings From The Island just published a post - a tribute of sorts - to People of WalMart. While I could draw on my extensive vocabulary of adjectives for this one, a picture is worth a thousand words, and there are a few interesting pictures on her blog. On a more disturbing note, there are a ton of pictures on the People of WalMart website. An alarming number of pictures in fact. I would like to think that some of the events captured are isolated incidents but based on the sheer volume of pictures, I don't think so.

Both C and I would like to teach our daughters that it is never okay to make fun of others, or laugh at their expense. But frankly, these People of WalMart are making it really hard to parent now-adays. Seriously, ya'll!

So for the good of all shoppers, young and old, I put together some rules. The Top 5 Things That You Should Remember Before Visiting WalMart (So That I Don't Have to Explain Who You Are and What You're Doing To My Daughter):

5. Remember that you just can't pull it off, before heading to WalMart.


4. Remember, to wear pants to WalMart.

3. Remember, to wear pants that fit you to WalMart.


2. Remember that the thong song was not written for you, before heading to WalMart.


1. Remember there's somethings that we just don't want to know, before you get to WalMart.




~ humps