June 2005 

Sami Crawls and Gets Called "Spoiled"

Yep, it is official. Sami crawled! Last Wednesday evening. Here's the thing; with our schedules, and her early bedtime, her dad and I are at home, together, with her, during waking hours for what, maybe 6 hours per week? What were the odds that her first official crawl happened with both of us sitting right there watching her? I'll just admit it too, we both got a little teary-eyed. We're such goobers over her. Anyway, she's been pretty mobile by virtue of scooching, but she finally got up on her hands and knees to stay and move that night. Of course, now here's the part where I go on and on about how cute it was/is. She isn't real coordinated at it yet, so her little crawl-steps are these teeny little choppy movements, and yes, it is wildly adorable.

After my entry last night, following the late phone call from the distraught friend, I had to have a babysitter for a few hours today, to go take over the oversight of our company's golf tournament registration and check-in. About a week ago, I had decided I had wanted to go out to the tournament just for fun, and so had called my regular favorite babysitter, Leslie, but she wasn't available. And she had suggested two friends, with whom I made contact, but neither of them were available either. So I had resigned myself to the fact that I just couldn't go. Then I got this emergency call last night, leaving me with no choice but to go with Irene. We kind of refer to her as the wacky babysitter. She's very sweet, older (retired), but unfortunately she usually takes care of old people and was just branching out into youngsters the first time we began using her. And that's when we still had SamtheCat, and Michael swore when we used her that she seemed just befuddled enough that one night we'd get home and she'd have tucked the cat into the crib and fed the baby catfood. Anyway, we had to have SamtheCat put down 2 weeks ago, so that's not a worry anymore. :-( And honestly, she is a very nice older lady, and with being retired is much more available than our college-age sitters. So I called her out of desperation and she agreed to come over today. I had already left for the tournament, so Michael had the task of kind of reaquainting her with Sami, and formula and where we keep everything, etc. Well, with Sami right at 9 months, she's peaking with her "stranger anxiety" phase. And this was no exception, I guess. At one point I called home to see how it was going after Irene got there but before Michael left for work, and all I could hear was Sami screaming, and Michael going, "It isn't really going very good." (Just so you don't feel bad, please know that shortly after that, Sami went to her crib for a nap, and slept until just before I got home. So she was fine.) But the funny part is, Michael then called me on his way to work and was still bristling at Irene's offhand comment that Sami was "spoiled." It really irked him. He goes, "She isn't spoiled, she just loves her daddy. She's daddy's girl." Then I think he mumbled some other stuff too.

Then when I got home, and Irene kind of recapped the couple of hours I was gone, she sort of admonished me about Sami's reaction to her. She subtly indicated that in her opinion, Sami needed to be exposed to more strangers. It was clearly her opinion that that was the source of Sami's "bad" behavior. See, in Irene's mind, she's our only babysitter. So she thinks that the 2 times we used her were the only times Sami's ever been with anyone outside mom and dad. Now, I didn't go out of my way to dispel those thoughts of Irene's, because -- well, I don't know. You just feel like you're two-timing your babysitter if you use other people I guess. I know it is stupid. But we liked our other babysitter so much we use her whenever we can, but we don't want to offend Irene onaccounta she's so available for emergencies. See?

So what I couldn't bring myself to tell ol' Irene was that Sami has never cried when we leave her with Leslie. So I ended up having to listen to her advice about how to raise my child (please note, Irene has no children herself) without being able to properly defend myself. That's probably pretty funny -- me taking ill-advice without mouthing off back to someone. I don't know if that has ever happened before.

Nothing Good

So I'm given this gift... this unbelievable, incredible, blessing. This little being, this person who measures 29" by what... 7"... x 21 pounds. And no matter the day and the trying times therein, I swear I always remember that I have been given something precious and sacred and unspeakable... and I honestly--every day--consciously think on purpose, about how lucky I am. And I truly marvel at the love I get to feel for her, and then second only to that is the love I feel for her father. I love them both unspeakable amounts.... so, so much.

And I constantly worry that even though I am wildly grateful in a literal sense--each day-- for what I've been given.... I still worry that I'm not being grateful enough to forestall something terrible happening to one of them.

And now I tell you that when things happen at work; you know, like someone goes, "I just absolutely must have this by 9am tomorrow." And when they say that, I have literally always said to myself, "Like... if you don't get it by then... really... will it really matter?!" I swear... my comparison to put things in perspective has always been, "Okay, is it a Big Deal? Is it really important?" And I always say to myself (and sometimes others) "It isn't like someone you love has cancer. So get over it."

And then one of your good friends / coworkers finds out her husband has cancer. Lungs and brain. And then there is nothing good left to say.

Made-up Songs for Sami

(Now, of course, many of these have choreography that go along with them, and you can't know the wonderful tune these get sung to, but you'll just have to imagine.) For posterity, a few of the little songs I've made up for Sami:

• "Sami Bragg... Sami Bragg... she's a cutey, she's a beauty... Sami Bragg."
• "Sami Sam the Samster Sam; she's so pretty yes she am... Sami Sam the Samster Sam, she's a sweetie yes she am..." (The particular beauty of this one is that you can make up endless verses.)
• "Good morning, good morning; it's such a lovely day... Good morning, I love you, in each and every way."
• "Rockin' with the baby, rockin' with the baby... rock 'n rock, rock 'n rock... rockin' with the baby." (Of course on this one you can randomly insert "my Sami" instead of saying the more generic "the baby." Or if you really want to mix things up a bit, you can do "Singin' with the baby" on alternate verses.)
• "Woo hoo... woo hoo hoo; ah hah... ah hah hah." (This one is from a current commercial, and a particular favorite of Sami's since she can "sing" the first two syllables with me. It makes her father's eyes roll back in his head after Sami and I have sung it about a dozen times in a day.)

As far as your more traditional songs go, with the nursery rhymes and such, our tendency is to get about 8 words into them and then kind of veer off to lah-lah-lahing, since sometimes the words aren't so fresh in my memory. These made-up songs are better anyway; more personal.

Kickin' back on the patio with a cool beverage 

Two teeth... see? 

Shoutin' about her two teeth! 

Checking out Daddy's badge 

Sami and Dad 

Sami & Me 

Singing in the shower 

Out = In

That's right, Sami just passed the 9 month mark. So she's kind of been "out" as long as she was "in." Which means she's had an impact on my life for 18 months now. Wow.

Stuff about Sami at 9 months:

• She had her 9 month check-up at her doctor's yesterday. She has really plateaued (according to my home scale) in her weight gain now that she's eating "real" food, and so I was certain she would have dropped out of the 90-something percentile she has been in since she was just a few weeks old, as far as weight and height. But all babies must plateau out at this point, because with her weight at 21.25 pounds, and her height at 29 inches -- she remains right at that 90 percentile. Meaning--for those of you not living in baby- percentile-world with the rest of us new moms and dads--that only 10 percent of the babies out there are bigger/taller than her. Average, would of course, be at 50. The good news is her height and weight remain amazingly locked together, so proportion-wise, she's perfect. And I don't think she's going to be Giant Baby or anything, she just seems so healthy and robust, and grows and grows.
• She can babble pretty good now. She thinks she's really giving you a good talking to, anyway. And every once in a while she'll stumble across random syllables that form a word appropriate as an answer to a question we might have just asked her, and it gives us such a good laugh. You know, something like, "Oh my... Mommy is having an exquisite hair day, don't you think, Sami?" And she'll go, "Uh, uh." Right on queue. Love that.
• She remains completely smitten with her dad. She lights up when he comes home or into the room. Mom who?
• Chew and chew and chew. I can't help myself from saying this every time I give her a bite of "grown up" food. But I swear she understands. And she does chew and chew and chew. Only still the 2 front teeth, but her others are all right under the surface and she's gotten quite proficient at chewing up small bites of everything we can think up to give her. She especially is partial to any kind of meat. She loves chicken, turkey breast, barbecue beef ribs, steak, burgers, sausage -- anything. And she likes bread, peas, cooked green bell pepper, cheese, tomato. The things she's not yet so sure of mostly have to do with texture -- cottage cheese makes her shiver, rice is questionable. Funky new textures have much more bearing with her than the actual taste of things, apparently.
• She'll now goof around with mostly, but also actually drink part of, a cup of water from her sippy cup. I made the mistake of giving her orange Gatorade the other day, and she loved it. I immediately remanded myself. I should have started with water, not something sweet. Oops.
• Going out in the stroller for a long walk, especially if it is breezy at all and maybe blowing hard enough to move her hair, makes her literally squeal with delight. She loves being outside, and if it is breezy, the experience is complete for her.
• Her personality is beginning its debut. For the most part she is a sunny, happy, smiley little person. But I see the dark shadows of her mother's presence too. Say you dilly-dally a little while making her lunch? No patience whatsoever. And she doesn't cry like a baby when she's impatient. She lets loose with this kind of--I don't know how to describe it--but it is the same noise I make when something is really frustrating me. Some inanimate object you know -- like trying to put back together something you've had to take apart, and no matter what you do, you can't get a nut screwed back onto the bolt?
• When we go in in the morning now to get her from her crib -- just starting this past week -- she's standing up all the time now. She can pull herself up and will stand and stand there.
• Still no crawling proper, but she can scooch across the room with ease and speed now. And she's getting up on her hands and knees for longer and longer periods of time. It seems as though it will just be days now before she figures it out.
• Her hair is almost in her eyes. It grows so fast now. I can have film developed from photos I just took 2 weeks ago, and when I look from them to her, and see how fast her hair is growing, it is surprising. Since I am the official family haircutter -- I do her dad's, and I do my own, of course I will be taking on this new task. Her father is very nervous.
• I personally cannot stand to step outside without my sunglasses on. And when the sun gets in Sami's eyes, it really seems to bother her. So I ordered her a pair of BabyBanz sunglasses. They have an adjustable band to go around her head instead of the traditional style -- the better for keeping on a baby. And they arrived this week -- pink, of course. She looks way too adorable in them. And if you distract her with a toy or something right as you put them on her, she immediately forgets about them and is very comfortable wearing them. So, so cute.
• She's also pretty tolerant of hats. Which, of course is good... what's cuter than a baby in a hat? Nothing.

We can't even fathom for ourselves how much we love her, and enjoy her and delight in her every day. We honestly marvel to each other all the time what a gift it is to have this incredible, sweet, beautiful child in our lives. She fills our hearts so. She could not be more loved.

Sami's pretty smile 

Sparkly smile 

what's this whole grass thing? 

for a couple of weeks, this is seriously what her hair did--there wasn't a thing we could do about it 

yeah, that's right... girl power 

Some More Random Thoughts About Sami @ 8 Months

• When Sami's sleeping on her back in her crib, and you go in to check on her from above, her little eyes are just crescents of black lashes -- so beautiful.
• She's sitting up on her own very stably now, so you can plunk her down anywhere while you're doing other stuff--say, laundry, or something--and when you walk back in from another room, and she's just sitting there so dearly, looking up at you, she just looks so tiny and at the same time so much a little person... it is difficult for me to describe, but it makes me feel so protective towards her. She just looks so small in the world, doing such a "grown-up" thing as sitting there by herself.
• "They" said this could happen at various stages of Sami's development, that she'll favor one parent over the other, so I've tried to steel myself for it, however, in the past two days, if I am holding her in my arms and her daddy arrives, she actually squirms around and pushes away from me (this has never happened before) trying to get to him. The fact that he delights in it so much in no way mitigates the gravity of the matter, naturally. ;-)
• Sami eats amazing portions of her food now. But her weight gain--previously so alarmingly near the top of the percentile for her age--has now plateaued. As if her little body knew to pack on the pounds early on to prepare for this stage where she's now eating "real" food and becoming so much more physically active. She's at 20+ pounds now, has been for weeks, and just seems to be remaining there.
• Sami will try any food we try to give her. She loves her morning cereal, usually has a vegetable and fruit for lunch, and some kind of meaty little vegetable dish for dinner, with more fruit for dessert. As for big people food, she dislikes mashed potatoes and baked beans (well no, I don't mean together), but enjoys a little bite of fried eggs, some tidbits of Italian Dry Salame, and had a little taste of pancake the other morning. She can also sort of drink from a bottle cap--like if I'm having bottled water on one of our walks, she will gamely attempt sips from the cap offered up. She loves ice cream and anything cold. And is disdainful of anything warmed up too much. She likes organic baby foods (and their heavier, more realistic textures) much better than conventional, and then I'm able to be a bit more relaxed about the concerns of feeding her meats from animals given growth hormones and the like. I wasn't too worried about vegetables and fruits, since those get dosed with pesticides and herbicides from the outside, and generally lose their peels and are so strained that I don't believe she winds up eating much of the outside--but meats I felt differently about. I'm not a health-food freak or anything, but growth hormones in any quantity in such a tiny body concerned me. And so now that she loves them more anyway, and the price is only about 10 cents more per jar, we'll be sticking with the organics for a while.
• She "chews." Too cute since she only has gums with teeth right underneath, and those two front bottom teeth. But she watches Daddy and I very intently while we're eating and has finally started to mimic our chewing when she eats.
• Changing her diaper has now turned into a wrestling match. She stretches and flips over in a heartbeat and so with one hand you're trying to hold her down, and that only leaves one hand with which to actually change and apply the new diaper. She takes it to be great sport, laughing and giggling about the whole struggle. Comical.
• She went to her first funeral yesterday. It was for the mother of one of Michael's best friends, and we just sat in the back of the church in the "crying" room. None of that. Nope. She certainly wasn't crying--she was in high spirits, full of noises and laughs and her signature "barks." And of course the concept of "shhhh" is completely lost on her, since the louder the better at our house, it seems. We stayed about 10 minutes since she seemed hellbent on audibly upping the fun level. And her father and I got the giggles about it.
• She now will say Dad-dad-dad on cue. And if you ask her "Where's Daddy? Where's Dad-dad-dad?" she will look for him and definitely associates that with him when you say it. But still not so much when she says it on her own. (He claims differently, of course.) To her it still seems to mostly just remain a few favorite syllables. And sadly, we don't even seem to be close to eliciting anything resembling Mom-mom-mom yet.
• It is a daily amazement for me just how well I know her. I mean, I've just never experienced knowing another person this well. I "get" her every little nuance, and it all feels like such a privilege to be granted this much insight into someone else. (I know, I know... it won't always be this way... but for now, it is amazing.)
• When you walk into any area where she is and she sees you, she lights up in a big smile. Every single time. Like you're the best thing she could have thought up to see next. I can wait a while for Mom-mom-mom, I guess. :-)

Notes About Sami at 7 1/2 Months

This one of her standing up is kind of “pretend” of course, because she can’t “really, really” stand by herself yet, although if I give her something to hold onto, like the railing on her crib, she can now stand there for at least 5 minutes by herself without keeling over. Anyway, so this one was a fun picture, where I had just let go of her, they snapped the photo, and then I grabbed her again.

She is now officially “scooching” around. If we put her on the floor, she can move several feet in any direction, but she does it by writhing around, and scooching herself backwards. No forward crawling yet, but I feel she’s getting very close. And we can no longer plunk her into a chair or on the couch – in an instant she can be over onto her belly and moving around, and in danger of falling. (Or, as it turns out this morning... not just in danger of falling, but falling. She has her first little goose egg on her forehead from just such a scenario. Daddy feels horrible, "I just turned away for a second!") So it is only floor or playpen for her now. Unless we have her in her high chair or something equally secure.

She’s also now flipping herself over in bed, as of this week. She used to always sleep on her back, which we all know you MUST do. But now that she’s older, that’s not the concern it was. And while we put her on her back to go to sleep, she then flips over and sleeps on her tummy now. And I swear she sleeps much more soundly that way, so that’s fine. And adorable, if I do say so.

She has now added meats to her diet regime, in addition to her much-loved morning cereal, vegetables and fruits. Which is also great, because if we give her a good dinner of baby food with meat in it, it seems to stick to her ribs a little better than just veggies and fruits, and she’s back to regularly sleeping 11 or 12 hours at night. I think because she doesn’t get so hungry anymore. She usually goes to bed now around 7pm, and sleeps until 6 or 6:30 most the time. Sometimes even longer. And she still usually takes a short nap around 9am, then she’s good for another 2 or 3 hour nap in the afternoon. Heavenly, if you’re a parent trying to get other stuff done. J

I also give her tastes of lots of different things that we may be eating… she’ll try about anything, but then clamps up if it isn’t to her liking. She loves ice cream, and she’s tried milk, fruit smoothies, refried beans, baked beans, potatoes, fried eggs, and even a bite of a french fry the other day at lunch. (I'm sure her dad was so proud that I had introduced her to salty, fried foods.) Her two bottom teeth are very visible now when she smiles, and the others aren’t far behind – you ought to see her chaw on your finger back on her molars every chance she gets.

Sami and Dad

"Pretend" Standing 

Sami at 7 and a half months 

Dad Sizes Things Up

This afternoon, I came home from work to find Daddy and Sami merrily amusing each other. And Michael was packing for a little overnighter to a conference, and was understandably a little preoccupied, I guess. But after I shed all my work gear, and Michael had disappeared elsewhere in the house, and I walked over to shmooze with the Samster, I see that he has her--and I mean this in the very literal sense of the word--crammed into a little one-piece outfit that she wore when she was about 2 months old. It is a favorite of mine that her Aunt Bec bought for her, and too adorable to be passed on to Goodwill, so I had kept it buried at the back of her closet, as one of the few clothing items I allowed myself to keep as a sentimental item.

Let me point out that Daddy doesn't concern himself much with whether or not outfits are actually buttoned or snapped as intended. If most of her is covered, he's pretty satisfied. So if the snap-closed crotch area of a one piece outfit doesn't quite get snapped up, he's mostly like what the heck, whatever.

So when he couldn't even get these close, he just kind of twaunched a couple of snaps from the right leg into the middle receptacles, and called it done. But what was so very funny looking, was that the legs hit her mid-thigh (they were supposed to be full-length, and were, when it fit her). And her little arms were smooshed into the sleeves like tightly packed sausages, with the cuffs hitting her just below the elbows. It was a size 0 to 3 months, and she's currently in the 18 month size, if that gives you a better indication? Gosh, you really had to see it to appreciate it.

I am learning to have a better sense of humor in lieu of criticizing in these types of situations, so I didn't say anything, and just hauled her upstairs and put her in, you know, an outfit that, well... fit. But you just can't help but wonder what sort of filter is produced by his eyes that had him satisfied that that was an outfit well-chosen. Did he actually stand back and admire his work when he was done wrestling her into it? Only Sami knows.

Sami Freaks Out

Poor little bean. ;-)

Since we recently moved into our newly constructed home, we're still dealing with a few warranty items with our homebuilder -- the occasional loose hardwood floorboard, or a failed caulking or your whatnot and the like. So our customer service rep is this seemingly very nice young man, Brice. And Brice is what... maybe late 20s, early 30s. Very mellow pleasant enough guy. Nothing menacing to him that meets the eye. At least that I can see.

On Monday, he stopped by to drop off some little fix-it items, and I answered the door with Sami in my arms, and as soon as he walked in, she started crying. Now, I now this sounds weird, but she really doesn't every really cry. She'll complain a little, and make some noise to instruct us when she's hungry, or tired, or in need of a diaper change. But she just doesn't ever really cry-cry. But she did this day. And I apologized all over, and explained that it was her naptime and she was just tired. Brice and I tried to discuss some other pending repairs, but Sami was having none of that--we literally could not hear each other over her crying, and so we scheduled a time that he would drop by the following day where we could run through the items in the house still needing attention.

Tuesday comes. And Brice arrives a little early, and I'm all "okay, she's well-rested this time; I'm sure it was just a quirk." Nuh uh. I open the door, and let Brice in, and set Sami on the sofa with her favorite toy so Brice and I can talk, and within about 10 seconds, her bottom lip curled up, and she started crying. Or maybe it is better described as screaming. Like I've never seen her do. I felt horrible for Brice, and I felt horrible for the frightened Sami, and I kept trying to talk some sense into her which as you can guess is fairly futile with a 7 month old. So I'm trying everything to calm her down and console her, and trying simultaneously to make the very self-conscious Baby Frightener feel like he's not a baby frightener, to no avail in either case. And I finally put Sami in her playpen, and hang blankets on the sides so she can't see him. And I give her a bottle to try to soothe her, which she wants nothing to do with. And I walk Brice into another area of the house, so we can talk quietly enough that she won't even hear him, apologizing and exclaiming to him how she never does this. Which of course only serves to make him feel worse. We had to get our business done, so I just had to keep going to Sami and trying to reassure her, and then I'd run back to Brice and try to show him a crack in the drywall by the window, and so on. It was really quite ridicuous. But also very heart-wrenching because Sami is friggin' sobbing and inconsolable. And I can tell that she is truly scared and upset.

This went on for nearly half an hour while we went all through the house and tried to have a reasonable, adult conversation all the while with this screaming little child, who is breaking my heart because I can't make her feel better.

Finally Brice left, and I had to go get the screaming, red-faced, tear-streaked Sami out of her playpen, and show her all through the house that he was gone. And immediately the crying stopped. There were a few leftover jagged intakes of breath like they'll do when they've just cried their little heart out. But she was okay then.

Geesh. What was up with that? Is he a secret serial killer that only she could sense? I don't think so. But she's got me wondering.

A Tooth, A Vasectomy, A Quarrel, and Time

Last Monday I did my regular-occasional, finger-in-the-mouth perusal of Sami's gums, checking for teeth, and stunningly, I found one this time. Yep, first tooth! It is her bottom left front tooth. Sharp as the edge of a serrated knife--there it was. Making absolutely no sense at all, I felt something akin to--I don't know--pride? Why pride I've no idea. I mean, all babies get teeth eventually. And she's right on schedule to get teeth. But if you're a parent, then you get it... you feel this bizarre inexplicable sense of pride as they hit these milestones. A tooth, for heaven's sake. It somehow felt so gratifying.

All their changes and developments happen in such tiny increments that it is difficult to guage them, to feel them; but give yourself something substantial like a tooth -- a hard little depiction of their advancement -- and it is so abrupt-feeling. Bam! Sami has "teeth." Okay, technically it isn't the plural... but you know what I mean.

So we've passed other of these little "growing up" milestones, but this one... I don't know why... well, in light of the entire week, I guess I do... but this one kind of kicked me in the gut.

All the moms of grown-up kids that I know warn me over and over that I'll turn around and Sami will be in high-school and I'll have missed everything in between. I beg to differ in that I think my advanced age allows me a certain perspective that younger moms don't have--allows me an appreciation for savoring moments and the sweetness therein. But nonetheless, this one made me draw back and recognize that I'll no longer experience the little tiny baby moments that are so sweet. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy each new stage of Sami's more than I could have ever imagined, but all of a sudden on this one I saw in my mind's eye these fleeting moments of her being this totally dependent infant and now I envision her eating like a big girl, then walking, then talking and on and on. And it wrenched me in a way-- her "infanthood" is gone. And I already feel this weird longing for it. You want them to grow and thrive and become a little person, and then when they start to exhibit it, it causes these heretofore unexpected pangs of longing for those pieces and moments of her curling into you and being a little baby. She isn't one anymore, and it kinda hurts a little.

Then, this week was the long-schedule V-Day for Michael. Let me pave the background... about a month ago I had this little anxiety attack wherein I thought maybe, it could be possible, what-if, Oh God, I might be pregnant. I went and bought a test kit, and I wasn't. And the relief was profound. I was so frightened of being pregnant again I can't even verbalize it. But at the same time, when it turned out negative, I felt this weird, awful, teeniest bit of sadness. Because I knew the vasectomy day was looming, and that that of course, was the end-all and be-all.

In bits and pieces, without ever coming right out and pronouncing ourselves to be talking about It, Michael and I had agreed we couldn't have another baby. Due to lots of things that make lots of sense. I feel so bad for Sami on so many levels that she won't have a sibling (I can't get into all that here), but I also knew I could not face another pregnancy at 42, birth at 43, and all the myriad horrendous things that could go wrong with a pregnancy at such an advanced age. You want stuff to worry about? Talk to high-risk pregnancy doctors when you're already pregnant past 35. Forget 41 -- the odds of bad things increases exponentially with each year and it is just unthinkable all the things they can think up to tell you that can go wrong.

So anyway, vasectomy day draws nigh, and I kept imagining that prior to it, that I would have an opportunity to talk to Michael about my self-denied longing for another baby--you know, for Sami of course--and that while he was listening I would deftly talk myself out of it. And he would feel great empathy but would intelligently agree with me on every logical point, and we would reach together the conclusion that we were doing exactly and without option, the right thing. But wouldn't you know, the night before V-Day arrives, and I've still got all these stupid feelings roiling about inside me, instead of having the opportunity to conduct the melancholy, sentimental conversation I needed in order to therapize myself out of my misgivings, we instead manage to have a spat that night. A totally unreasonable, unusual, unexplainable, horrible evening of escalating bad feelings and mean words that while we rarely have them, when we do, are of heart-sickening consequence to me.

So he goes to the doctor's office the next day, and we're barely speaking, and I'm feeling just sick that we're not talking, and he has the "procedure" and we're on our way home, and for 3 days I'm taking care of him, and all along I'm feeling this idiotic stuff.

In deference to Michael, at some point, and I don't even know when it happened in this whole mixed up week, I did weakly attempt to verbalize all these conflicting feelings to him, in a very abbreviated fashion, and God love him, he made this thoughtful reply when asked by me, "Do you know what I mean?"... he goes, "No. But then I'm not a woman." A more insightful statement never made.

We made up and made things right between us, but there remains this finality to it, and this realization that now, no matter anything else, I'm not having another baby (which, don't get me wrong here--I by no means in my head wanted to have another baby) . But aren't I allowed to feel sad about it anyway?

I'm such a goober.

Sami "Sings"

Sami turned 6 months old at the end of February. And just let me say, she could not be more engaging. We absolutely delight in her--day in and day out. It takes so little to thrill us endlessly as we watch her development.

She's eating solid foods (vegetables, cereal and fruits) like mad. She's still a great sleeper and napper. She can sit up on her own. But mostly she's just so... involved with her dad and I now. She sees things she wants and reaches for them. She concentrates so hard on objects she's holding. If we're in the room with her, she wants--no, expects--all the attention to be on her. Well, she's had it no other way, so who can blame her?

And in that vein, she of course has been learning to make sounds. The raspberry was first, and her dad and I were just so pathetically thrilled to have her communicating with us on purpose that it didn't matter that it wasn't perhaps the prettiest or most dainty of noises. That lasted for weeks.

Then, she learned to, and I don't know how else to put this, she learned to bark, in a way. It is/was wildly adorable and comical to watch. I swear you could see the idea pop into her head that she was fixing to muster up some noise, and then she would make a very determined face that involved thinning out her lips and kind of pooching them out, and then she'd squeeze her eyes shut while simultaneously throwing up her arms, and out would come any one of varied--but I'm talking LOUD noises; most of which sounded like an abrupt bark of sorts. Well, blinded by the cuteness of the delivery of it, I made it a point to react with great amusement and exaggerated attention to her every time she did it, and so of course, reinforced it immediately and she added it to her repertoire.

Then, the fake cough made its appearance. Now, she's never even been sick with a cough, but occasionally she'll be yankin' on a bottle too fast and choke herself a little, and I always would run over (oops, this forces me to admit that since she can hold her own bottle now, that I sometimes take advantage of it and let her lie down and feed herself) and while she'd smile up through the milk with her little eyes watering a bit, I'd go, "Geez! Are you awright?" All cheerily, because she never has really choked. Well duh. Of course she caught on in no time that bottle or none, if she faked a cough, she'd be rewarded with me "checking" on her (read: giving her some face time). So that joined the barking.

Now, she's so beautiful and sweet, but the barking and fake coughing weren't exactly the sounds I might have chosen for her to finally learn to make to communicate within the family. Or worse yet, during our first outing to a neighborhood "Moms and Babies" outing where I'm sure the other mothers were secretly horrified that I'd brought my baby to sit with their babies when she was so clearly suffering from a severe bout of whooping cough, or some equally noxious disease involving uncontrollable coughing.

Anyway, just starting around yesterdayish, sweet relief...

She's now saying, "Dah-dah-dah-dah...". Without yet relating her to her dear father; but we're reinforcing the connection constantly, so I don't think it will be long now. But to dah-dah-dah, just yesterday, she started saying "Deet-deet-deet-deet." It isn't the syllables that are so sweet, but the delivery of them in a soft, high, sing-song voice. It just melts my heart. She mostly started doing it when she was playing and concentrating on her own, unaware of me watching her. And she'd just be like she was singing a little tune to herself to accompany whatever she was doing.

So I'm trying to train myself to ignore the barking and the coughing in an attempt to stop reinforcing those noises, and trying to "reward" her singing with lavish attention whenever she does it.

Why didn't anyone ever tell me during my 41 years with no baby, that babies are just so damn sweet? Geez. Who knew?

Pretty Sami 

Family portrait 

Aunt Bec & Grandma Grace visit... 

Happy Sami :-) 

Sami with friends... 

Delicious and nutritious! 

Sick Baby + Working Mom = Way Messy House

Really, my messy house is quite the least of my worries. But I just walked downstairs and viewed the chaos and couldn't help but make note of it. My two days to work from home are Mondays and Tuesdays, while simultaneously taking care of Sami. It usually works so well because her dad is here until 11am mostly taking care of her, and then she's such a good napper during the day, and when she's awake, she's very easily self-entertained. But this week...geesh.

Anyway, finally it happened. Sami has gotten sick. It started yesterday. She ate her breakfast oatmeal willingly enough, with the usual happiness. And then about 20 minutes after she ate, a little came up. And luckily I had her at the sink cleaning her up, when the whole damn mess came up. I swear more came out than went in. Poor little bug. It startled her, and it probably hurt her a little, and she just looked very surprised then started crying. She's never thrown up like that before. So we cleaned her up, and I took her upstairs and changed all her clothes. But that was just the beginning. It resulted in two days (so far) of her not wanting to eat or drink much at all, and when she did, you could see it hurt her when it hit her tummy -- she'd whimper and whatnot. And she is never whiny and whimpery like that. Then the diarrhea started. Poor, poor girl. I'll spare you the gory details, but suffice it to say that at one point, with the diaper off, I was cleaning up anything within 4 feet of her--directionally speaking. And I'm not kidding.

Anyway, my happy, smiling good-natured baby has not been so for two days. I feel so terrible for her. She doesn't understand why she doesn't feel good, she has no way of knowing it isn't going to be this way forever, and I just hurt for her. On top of how her tummy must feel, her bottom is all red and rashy from (I'm assuming) the acidity of her diarrhea. I'm greasing her up good at every half hour diaper change, and it is improving, but the poor little thing.

She has a doctor appointment (her 6 month) tomorrow, so I didn't want to overreact and take her in, but I finally did feel the need to call them and just find out if what I was instincitively doing was correct. And it was. Except they said give her Pedialite. Well, whatever. I went and bought some. And I warned the nurse that she'd never even so much as tasted fruit juice, so I wasn't sure she'd take it. Cripes. Have you tasted that stuff? It is the most sickeningly sweet thing. It is disgusting. She got one taste of it from her beloved but now deceitful bottle, and that was it. She clamped up her little trap and refused any more. I didn't blame her one bit. We just went back to formula. It is staying down, so I know she's getting fluids, and that is what is important. I had to squirt a little formula into her mouth forcefully to convince her I wasn't pulling any more fast ones on her after that whole Pediacrap incident.

Anyway, last night she woke up when her dad got home and we went in together to check on her in bed. So we got her up and fed her a couple ounces of formula. And then I took her back to her room, and we sat in the rocker in her room, and I sang to her and rocked her. And then she nestled in and let me tickle her face, and she fell asleep in my arms. Well, I'm watching as her face relaxes and she settles asleep, and I feel so bad for her--for not feeling good. And for some morbid reason, I get to thinking about the parents of babies, say, in the Children's Hospital, and how some of them are so, so sick. And maybe in pain, and even worse... and I'm thankful that in 6 months this is the first time she's ever, ever been even the least bit sick. But I think of them, and I can't even bear the thought. How do parents even begin to cope with that? How on Earth do they bear such a thing? Anyway, I get all bawly and emotional. After I moved her to her crib, I went back downstairs to see Michael, and I was all sniffly and teary, and had to try to explain my thoughts. This baby thing can just turn you right into an emotional goofball without you even realizing it is happening.

I hate to capitalize on her illness, but we did have a little first that still makes me a bit emotional when I think of it. Late last night, her dad was holding her on his lap and trying to soothe her, and when I walked over to give her a little kiss myself, she actually reached for me. That's the first time that has happened, that she's reached for either of us to pick her up. Her dad noticed it and was very gracious about it, and goes (like it would be any other way), "That's okay. When I was little and sick, I remember all I wanted was to be with my mom, too." But I think he might have had a slight pang of jealousy. That's okay, though, because he gets the part where she just gazes, like she's just completely smitten with him (I know... she is), into his face when she sees him. I won't fault him that one -- I love seeing how much she adores her daddy.

Anyway, here's hoping Sami feels all better in the morning.

Perhaps my favorite picture so far of the Samster 

Sami saying goodbye to Daddy as he leaves for work 

Sami & Mom, lounging on a Sunday morning 

Breakfast Beans

Sami's dad must've been in a fog yesterday when he graciously allowed me to sleep in, and took it upon himself to get up with Sami on the early shift...

He got up with her around 6:45am, and I finally joined them around 8-ish. As I prepared our breakfast, I asked Michael how Sami did eating her cereal earlier. He kind of screwed up his face, and went, "Oh. Cereal. I forgot about that." I had an inkling of what was to come... I said, "You didn't feed her cereal?" And he goes, "Um, no." I said, "Then what might you have found for her for breakfast?" "I guess I gave her green beans." I made a face, "Green beans at 7am, for breakfast?!"

He brightened... "But she ate the whole jar!"

I suggested to Sami that we make a salad for her dad's breakfast to pay him back.

I guess that is the beauty of being not quite 6 months old; she really has no expectations about what is normal. I was thinking that if you took her outside and the sky was orange and the grass was purple, it wouldn't make any impression on her. If that was all you had ever known, orange and purple would seem as reasonable as blue and green, right?

Coming next... Sami's Grandma and Aunt visit

Sami Eats

About 3 weeks ago, I started trying to feed the Samster some "big girl" food. Her pediatrician gave us strict rules to follow... first give her rice cereal. Then after that was going okay, move her to peas, then green beans. And then and only then, introduce her to fruits. Okay. Yeah.

For about a week and a half, I tried with the cereal. I tasted it, and it wasn't horrible, but it was pretty bland. (I've vowed not to feed her anything I haven't tasted and deemed acceptable first.) It had just the slightest bit of sweetness to it, but it wasn't very tasty. Anyway, I'd get about 3 spoonfuls into it, and half of that she pushed back out with her little tongue. And then she'd start the motorboat thing, where she blew it back all over me. I decided that was her way of saying, "Thank you so much, dear mother, but I believe I've had just enough, thank you."

I actually even quit trying for a day or two.

Then with no regard whatsoever for Dr. Noah's rules, I tried applesauce, which tended to make her shiver. Upon tasting it, I discovered it was really quite tart, and so decided to mix it with the slightly sweet rice cereal. It was very palatable to me, mixed together like that. And sure enough, she too found it quite agreeable. And before I knew it, she had eaten almost a quarter cup of it. Opening her mouth like a little bird for each bite. Success at last.

So feeling guilty for flouting the feeding rules, I decided to catch up, and tried some peas. She liked them just fine. And it seems like overnight, she suddenly had this voracious little appetite for all things baby food.

You're only supposed to introduce one new food every 3 days, to check for allergies. And I kind of tried to adhere to that for around 2 days, but I got caught up in the whole thing and bought her all kinds of veggies and fruits. And now I just shovel all different things into her eager little trap. Within just a couple of days, she began to consume pretty much anything with gusto.

Peas, green beans, applesauce, peaches, sweet 'taties, corn, carrots, oatmeal. She loves it all. Why did I know she was going to be a good little eater?

Her only beef with the whole process is the feeder's speed. You have to like choreograph the whole thing and keep it coming fast or you get her off her rhythm and she's trying to swallow when you're trying to shovel it in. She's now eating a half cup of cereal--either oatmeal or rice--mixed with a spoonful or two of fruit in the morning. Then nearly a full jar of veggies for lunch. And at dinner, another jar of veggies, followed by a few mouthfuls of fruit for dessert.

Who ever thought I would actually feel so proud of her simply eating so enthusiastically? I swear, being a mom is just one surprise after another for me.

Sami @ 5 Months

This is an entry truly better suited for her baby book, that I have previously admitted I am woefully inadequate at maintaining. But I know in a few months, I myself will be fascinated to look back and reminisce upon these details... so bear with me, this one is for Sami and me...

Sami turned 5 months old weekend before last, and here is what's going on in her world right now.

She has discovered her little, dear feet. If she's upright, or lying down, her favorite pasttime is to clutch her unusally long (inherited from me) toes in her hands. No more, no less. She's perfectly satisfied just to clutch and occasionally study them. It is, of course, adorable.

Today, I made the mistake of trying to compensate for cold weather and floors by putting socks on her. First of all, infant socks are not one-size-fits-all. None of them fit her. The heel ends up mid-arch, and they won't stay on. And in addition to inheriting my hideously long toes, she also assumed my distaste for socks and shoes, apparently. She was unusually irritable all afternoon. I thought, "Gosh, she seems out of sorts." Yeah. Tried removing the socks and retrieved my good-natured baby girl.

She's monumentally frustrated by this reclined position she continually finds herself relegated to. She wants so badly to be upright and able to view the world. But if you sit her up, she has no concept of righting herself once she starts to list to one side. A faceplant is iminent. And it makes her so angry. She's just starting to make slight musculature moves that would right the leaning, but hasn't quite mastered them. I can tell she'll be so much happier and satisfied with the world once she has figured it out.

If she's awake, she's happy. Smiling, laughing. She's amazingly engaged and alert about what's going on around her. She concentrates so dutifully on whatever her dad and I are doing when we're not precisely paying attention to her. Note to self: she's a sponge right now. I'm trying to maintain constant awareness of what I'm feeding the sponge that is her. When I eat, I try to savor every bite verbally. I feel like it is all about setting an example currently.

She seems mesmerized by me singing to her. It can be a baby song, or something off one of my CDs. Regardless, she apparently adores music at this point, and seems to really appreciate and recognize the difference between my speaking voice and my singing voice.

She also seems to acknowledge that there are times I'm speaking to her and times I'm speaking in front of her, but not to her. When her daddy and I are just conversationally talking in front of her, I have caught her paying special attention. She watches our mouths so intently. Both her dad and her Aunt Terri swear she has purposely said "mama." How can that be that I haven't witnessed it? She may be enunciating it, but I am sadly but fairly certain that at this point it is inadvertant.

She loves going to sleep at night. I mean, leading up to it, she does what her dad and I call "hitting the wall." It is so blatant. She's this happy, humorous child one minute, and the next she can't be consoled. Off to bed with our bedtime rituals, and she's perfectly content within about 10 minutes, and pleased as punch to be laid to bed.

Her hair--and I'll admit I think it is due to our coaxing--sticks straight up in this adorable "do." We're so used to it and fond of it that we don't notice it anymore, but lately it has become the subject of several comments from strangers. We may need to rethink this at some point in the near future.

We're just now getting started, on occasion, trying to feed her "real" food. We tried every afternoon for a week with rice cereal. But she just isn't that fond of it. So yesterday I bought some fruits and veggies to try. We started with applesauce. I tasted it, as I have vowed to do with all of those things I will be feeding her. If it tastes horrible to me, I'm not giving it to her. Anyway, the rice cereal is pretty bland, but just ever so slightly sweet. Not horrible or anything, but not very exciting either. So we tried the applesauce yesterday. The good news is she did in fact open her mouth every time I put the spoon to her, but this applesauce had no sugar added and was in fact a little bit tart. She ate some of it, but after a few bites, the tartness must've gotten to her, because it kept making her shiver. It was cute, but I felt kind of bad for her. At least half of it came right back out of her mouth via her tongue. Oh well. We'll keep trying.

Some Advice from Durse

Durse (Kristin Mathers, my cousin) felt compelled to share some appreciated advice from her perspective:

Kelli shared the address of your Sami blog with me.....I hope you don't mind. I need to tell you that I REALLY enjoy it and couldn't be happier for all of you. I have felt these exact emotions but just wasn't eloquent enough to put it into words. I know you mentioned that you don't necessarily want advice, but I can't help but give you this little tidbit. This past weekend, I was going through some old pictures of the kids in preparation for Erin's graduation party in May. I have never been so sick in my life. I can't even remember so much of their childhood and I am panicky that it's almost over. My main regret is that I didn't spend as much time with them as I could have. Did it really matter whether the house was clean or not, or that their toys weren't picked up? God, NO. Since I was only 21 when Erin was born, I think I just maybe didn't have the luxury of knowing this at the time. Now, I can only wish I had known and try to do better now. I do enjoy both of my kids so much - maybe even more now that they're near adults. It's very easy to just "hang out" with them both and I'm so proud of both of them. One thing that really touches me is how polite and respectful they are to their grandparents. As far as I know, we have never told them they HAVE to be. They just have the decency to know they should be. Anyway, I guess my advice is to spend as much time as possible and to enjoy every second you have with them. It appears you're definitely on the right track in this regard.

Hormones and Me

First, let me say, I have always considered myself rather "above" all this hormonal business. I mean, really... mind over matter, right? If I just decided I wasn't going to succumb to hormonal imbalances, and the consequences thereof, then I wouldn't. Seemed so simple.

For instance, during my pregnancy, I feel like I was pretty even-keeled. And I would verify that with Michael throughout, and following. Now, you're probably thinking he was just going along with whatever I said to keep me happy, but really, I swear it, I was very even-tempered and reasonable. Especially compared to some women's stories I had heard.

Same for during delivery. I never screamed or swore or anything.

Then as I anxiously awaited the post-partum hormonal peaks and valleys, again... nothing much. Michael was so helpful and willing to do his fair share, that I never felt overwhelmed or sleep-deprived or any of that that I heard so much about.

Oh., I was smug, indeed. I secretly scoffed at weaker women that allowed themselves to be moody and tempermental.

Then, just when I thought it was over... I mean, my feet were all done swelling. My belly flattened back out (well, as much as it could at 42 still carrying 20 extra pounds). And my period started again. I was back to normal. Poof. Just like that.

So when it happened (okay, and occasionally continues to happen), it really caught me off-guard.
Michael would leave for work, and I would enjoy Sami all day, and get some other stuff done--laundry, unpacking boxes in our new home, etc. Maybe whip up a lovely meal to share with my dear husband upon his return from work. And I swear to you, I would actually feel excited about having him come home. I literally do miss him just when he's at work. Then, he'd come home, and before my very eyes, I would turn into this raving bitch that I've never been before. Irritated at the tiniest of things, stressed out, exasperated with him beyond belief. Even as I was doing it, I couldn't recognize myself in there.

If he left a glass unrinsed in the sink (which for all intents and purposes is kind of annoying since the dishwasher is right there beside it), I could rant about it for 10 minutes. Or if he wrote a memo for work and asked me to review and edit it for him, I could work myself into a rage over his misspelled words. And if he made Sami a bottle and sprinkled some dry formula on the countertop? Well good God, the anger it could produce in me. And sometimes he just didn't look at me right, I guess.

Now get this straight... Michael is an exemplary husband and dad to Sami. I'm not saying he is without fault, but if you weighed out all the pluses and minuses, he's overwhelmingly a good, sweet, caring, wonderful, evenheaded, thoughtful, and funny man.

So these "times" began happening to me much further into motherhood than I ever would have expected. Sami was over 3 months old, for goodness sake. Where did this raging witch in me come from? After an episode of hissing at Michael for purely nothing, I would realize it, recognize it, and vow to not do it again. But inevitably, it would indeed happen again. It went on for about a month, on and off. And Michael would timidly suggest that maybe he needed to be more understanding because I was having hormonal issues, and that would just set me into a further rage. But now that I think for the most part I'm through it, and I'm able to look upon it, I'm fairly certain that is exactly what it was. My body was finally reverting back to where it had been for 40-odd years, and it came with a little writhing around on the inside, that just maybe affected me emotionally. Just a bit, of course.

Now in my own defense, during the final few weeks of my pregnancy and the first few weeks of my newfound motherhood, I did singlehandedly pack up two condos, two storage units, get us moved, and unpacked into a new house. This involved more financial wrangling than I care to think back upon, along with all the other items and hassles involved with moving, but times two -- since we were going from two households into one. And I had to get one condo sold, one rented, and simultaneously pack enough maxi-pads into a suitcase for my hospital stay.

Looking back, I feel awe and relief that I made it through that period. Does Michael consider with me that I've come through that and left it behind me? Not sure. But life seems to have settled into something that I find unbelievably wonderful. I'm not kidding or exaggerating when I say that each and every day I am so grateful for the life I've stumbled into. If I feel the least bit irritated with a work issue, or household issue, it takes about 5 minutes for me to reflect on how fortunate and blessed I am to be in the situation I'm in. My husband. My incredible, amazing daughter. My sister. My mom. My best friend Lisa that understands what no one else can. My invaluable "work friends." My timeless relationships with highschool girlfriends. And perhaps above all, the fact that everyone I mention here can bitch about daily happenings because they're in good health and have no other worries. What a luxury we all enjoy.

I can't imagine that I've done anything worthy of enjoying my life so much at this point.

I'm All Puffed-Up With Pride

Please indulge me and allow me to post this email I received from my sister today. I could not feel less deserving of her kind words, nor more proud... (Yes. I know this is extremely self-serving. And I didn't even ask her permission to post this. But GOD this made me feel good. :-) )

From my "seester:"
"Oh, you are such a good Mom. Of course Sami is going to actually look forward to bedtime, with you doing your little "ritual" every night with her. How sweet. So unlike Moms who just more or less throw them into a bed, prop a bottle, and shut the door so they can't hear them screaming. Thank you for being so good to her. I couldn't stand it if you just acted like you couldn't take the time to actually rock her, read to her, and cuddle with her. I really am so proud of you and how you have just "taken to" being a Mom. I have never heard you, I don't think even once, complain about taking care of Sami in any way or form. You are just always so amazed by her and seem so happy to do even the smallest things for her. I really didn't know about you playing the Mom figure, that day so long ago when you called and said you were PG. I just couldn't see you "fitting" that into your lifestyle. It was so unlike how you've always been. I knew you LIKED kids, but you were never really like me, where you just can't get enough of them. But you have truly amazed me. I don't think you could do anything (so far) differently, to make you a better parent. Congratulations. I'm so proud of you."

I'm Serious... These Are Good Things

I have so far experienced two times since having Sami that make me want to shout out my advice from my rooftop.

Let me say, I have little tolerance for advice directed at me, mainly because it always comes from such self-righteous mothers that breastfeed at least the recommended length of time, or eat tofu, or don't put their babies in front of the tv to get a break, or don't look forward to putting Baby to bed in order to enjoy a chilled adult beverage. Or two.

But despite my apparent ineptitude, I stumbled across two amazing items that I feel I must share.

The first came from my pediatrician. He's so tolerant of Michael and I. We taunt him, we tease him, we test him. And he always comes back with a smile and a dogged determination to not only endure us as parents, but to perhaps mold us into decent ones. But gently. He could sense from the start that I'm automatically programmed to be skeptical of any doctorly advice, and my tendencies lean towards customarily dismissing it because I'm, just, well, "different." But better. But Dr. Noah perseveres.

At the first couple of visits, we insisted that our child was above any sort of sleeping disorders, or crying jags. She was perfect. Naturally. Despite our assertations, he mentioned in passing that should the unthinkable ever occur, we might want to obtain the "Happiest Baby on the Block" book for some useful tips.

Flip by some daily calendar pages, and watch me hike to the Tattered Cover bookstore in double-time following the first 60 minute scream-session at 2am. Bought the book. Read the two pages that were pertinent. And learned that by following the 5 steps in the book, magic could occur... the most fussy baby in the world could be induced to sleep--against their will--within about 5 minutes. I had become a convert. For not only the wisdom dispensed in the book, but also for my youthful, but wise, pediatrician.

The next time I saw him I insisted that hospitals should issue this book with the baby. The key is swaddling. You like to think that your baby doesn't "like" being swaddled. No! She's a free spirit, dammit. No constricting blanket-wrapping for her. But trust me--read it. Understand the 4th trimester. And believe. It saved our sanity. And restored my battered sense of being in control.

I'm not exaggerating when I say that I cried with relief when I tried this and it worked not the first time, not the second time, not the third time, but every fricking time!! Right when I needed it most.

Fast forward several months. I have an unusually happy, easy-to-care-for child. I'll admit it. But even so, at times, bedtime could be trying. She gets in this zone at bedtime that puts her into hyper-mode. She becomes ultra-animated, and very physical, but also very prone to becoming upset and in full-out cry mode at bedtime.

Most nights resulted in putting her to bed with no crying. No fussing. But on the nights when that wasn't the case, letting her cry (more like scream) herself to sleep, were heartwrenching. What kind of dreams does that cause an infant to have?

An aside note here...I'm certain that a bazillion mothers before me already discovered this technique. But it is their own fault for not publicizing it or being adament enough about it. I'm still bent on taking credit for it.

Our bedtime ritual is to make a bottle, and head upstairs to her room. We settle into our comfortable, comforting rocker. And we read a book. Yeah, she's only 5 months old. But I want her to love books like I do. So we take 5 minutes to peruse a book. Then we shut off the light, and only allow the hall light to illuminate her room. I cover her with a blanket, and feed her what she'll accept from her bottle of formula. Then when she finally shuns that, I settle her into a particularly comfortable position, and "tickle" her face. We call it tickling. But it isn't "coochee-coochee-coo" tickling--it is a light caress of her skin. I go ever so slowly around her face and all over her little sweet head. Include the ears and nose, and the spot just under her nose, and the cheeks and the brows, and all over. Within about 60 seconds, this child virtually melts into me, and relaxes so completely that it amazes and humbles me.

By the time I am forced to rouse her and move her into her crib, she is so relaxed and content that as I tuck in her blankets and she realizes that it is bedtime, that all she can find within herself to do is smile at me.

Rarely is there crying. Just a happy attitude towards slumber.

I love to have it done to me. Her dad loves to have it done to him. Why wouldn't it feel good to a baby? I learned it from my mom. I remember her "tickling" my back when I didn't feel good--was sick. It is the most relaxing, wonderful feeling there can be.

She didn't enjoy or notice it that much when I tried it when she was just a newborn. But it appears to be magic now.

You have to be somewhat relaxed yourself, I think, to make this work. And thinking sweet thoughts while you do it might possibly enhance the effect. :-)

Try it, and I dare you to tell me it doesn't work.

Predictable

First of all, I have to say... I feel just so... predictable. Don't think for one moment that I don't remember how I felt and reacted to mothers when I was "pre-baby." Because I do. I did not find all the little intricacies of babies to be fascinating whatsoever. And naturally, now I do. Can't help it. And frankly, wouldn't want to feel any other way.

Thank goodness that I have an outlet for these seemingly daily epiphanies about motherhood. My sister either is endlessly interested, or is amazingly adept at pretending she is.

So Sami was suddenly able to put her fingers into her mouth by grasping her little, chubby, perfect, adorable hands together first--to this day, it reminds me for some odd reason of "gangstas" making their gang signs - the way she melds her hands together with her arms bent out in front of her, then brings the whole thing home to her mouth--and then smirks with contentment at her accomplishment.

So I'm granted by "the grace of God" with an incredibly happy, cheerful baby, and misdirectedly take credit for her good nature by virtue of my superior (questionable at best) parenting skills.

So she appears to already exhibit her little sense of humor, with crinkly-nosed responses to things that are only subtley funny.

So I can make amazingly accurate assessments of whether or not people I meet have children or not, based upon their reactions to my daughter.

So I can strike up a Target check-out lane conversation with an expectant mother "of a certain age" now, and exchange intimate details within 2 minutes flat, and feel I've bonded with her in a certain, lasting way.

So when I get together with girlfriends that aren't obsessed with babies, for an adult beverage, and get intolerably bored within about 20 minutes--ready to go home to my dear husband and child with no regrets for missing the rest of the good times.

It doesn't mean I'm predictable. It means I've discovered what I had been missing all along.

The mothers that tried to explain it to me before are now pardoned. Turns out they were being so gracious by not being condescending about my ignorance. They had the good sense to let it go, rather than try to make me comprehend it.

Please make me learn to be as wise.