Ain't No Sunshine When She's Gone

So first I must apologize for my tardiness, although I've never Ever been the girl with the perfect attendance record.  I have actually had people ask me why I haven't blogged lately and, let me tell you, that is both humbling and supremely flattering.  To think that people actually check this to read what I have to say is just overwhelming.
Now for where I have been these past few months.  First of all, my beautiful, sweet, but "difficult" baby somehow morphed into a regular little chap.  She has been eating, sleeping, breathing goodness lately.  As much as I am reveling in this fact, it makes for no good writing material!  I mean, who wants to listen to those moms that go on and on and on about their perfect angel baby?  Not me.  Hey! More power to ya if that's the hand that you were dealt.  However, most of us were not blessed with golden babies and we actually want to physically punch you in the face if you proceed to pontificate on your glorious introduction to motherhood.  I'm not kidding, straight up cage fight cold-cock to the face.
Anyway, my gal has been good of late.  I'm not gonna brag beyond that.  That doesn't mean that life hasn't thrown some serious curveballs lately.  I have many many times referred to my life as a "comedy of errors" because it seems that whenever things are going smoothly "old man drama" comes to knock you upside the head.  Well, after a few months of relative calm the waters have turned choppy.
As a Stay At Home Mom, or COH (Chief of Household), we rely kinda heavily on the hubs job.  His company recently faced a buyout by another company and we feared layoffs.  Someone up above was looking down on us because my husband was offered a better position within his company amid all the shuffle.  It's an opportunity that he has worked hard for and deserves (in his wife's opinion) but, here's the kicker! It requires a move out of state. 
Goodbye Texas, it's been fun, hello land of Mardi Gras, laissez les bon temps rouler, and jambalaya.  This Yankee is heading to Louisiana!
I have to tell you, I can think of no better fun than getting your house prepared to go on the market, the week before Christmas, with a 1 year old attached to your hip.  It has been an adventure to say the least.  Anyway, house is listed, new house is under contract, baby and dog are in tow and we are a'movin'.
Stick around because hilarity is sure to ensue.....

Teething, Growth Spurt, Mood Swings,... Demonic Possession,... It's Anyone's Guess!

     We just returned from a very successful trip to Shreveport, LA for Sophie's Baptism.  She travelled well, she adapted to new surroundings like a seasoned globe-trekker, she worked the post-Baptism brunch like the party hostess that I believe she was born to be.  We were so proud!
     Truth be told, I haven't written much lately because life has been good.  No crazy shenanigans.  Pretty even-keeled stuff, which is great for day-to-day living but not so interesting to write about.  However, all that was about to change.
     We drove home the 3 hours from Shreveport to Dallas gloating about how well our little angel behaved on the trip, how pretty she looked on her big day and how good she was being in the car.  We got home, still wrapped in our stupid reverie, went about our day, got our gal down for bed and .... all hell breaks loose.  There is a saying, "don't count your eggs before they're hatched."  Well, I get those old sayings now.
     My husband and I drift off to sleep with visions of happy travels dancing in our heads when the 2am screaming wake up call comes a knockin'.  Yes, our good sleeper was awake, sitting up in her crib and screaming bloody murder.  Two trips in to rock her, multiple lullabies (some I must admit had some curse words inserted in them as the hours wore on) the smallest dose of baby Tylenol and a diaper change later (2 hours had passed) I'm now storming around the house.  My husband, who had been in bed until now, wisely jumped out of bed like a scalded cat (without lecturing by me!) and hurried in to help.  Last attempt was a bottle.  Maybe I should have come to the bottle conclusion sooner, but she hasn't needed a middle of the night snack in awhile so that obvious solution did not come to my sleep deprived mind until much later. 
     Husband administers the bottle because I'm about to willingly run into traffic at this point, and gets her to bed....finally....at 4:15am!  And then she's up again at 6!  Yea parenthood!
    Well, 3 days later, filled with fussy baby, interrupted sleep and zombie-parents, I give my gal a serious mom-daughter pep talk stating that this grumpy phase is now over and we are kicking it to the curb.  I'm not going to lie, I did resort to singing Twisted Sister's "We're Not Gonna Take It" in order to emphasize my point.  I may have taken liberty with some of the lyrics as well, so I am infinitely sorry to Dee Snider and all 80's metal heads.  However, Twisted Sister's genius lyrics (plus some of my own) seemed to have worked.   A couple of hours post pep talk/sing along I took my gal to run some errands.  She falls asleep in the car for like, 30 min., wakes up, smiles, laughs and is a delight again.  The clouds have parted and the angels are singing.
     Now can someone please explain the last 72 hours to me?!!  Yes, yes, yes I've read all about teething (which we are in the thick of), I've read about growth spurts, but maybe,...just maybe, she decided to be an a-hole for a few days?  I mean we all have our "off days".  However, I have to hand it to her yet again, it's a rare (wait, I mean NEVER) occurrence that I get to go on a multi-day "bitch fest"with the response to my actions being even more love and affection, being fed foods that I am known to love, and getting gently rocked to sleep for every bedtime and nap.  I'm telling you, this girl is good.  Its good to be a baby.

     Moral of this story: My husband and I have survived another strange "spell" of babyhood.  Our happy gal is back and the demon has again left to go party with another baby. 

Sorry "other baby!"






     

Honey, I Didn't Know Your Head Could Spin Like That!

    I married a stereotypical, All-American, "guys guy."  He grew up in a small town in the south where athletics and football, in particular, are King.  I think it's quite fair to say that he is athletically gifted, as he excelled at basically every sport he played, and the first day of football season (LSU and pro) is better than any holiday and birthday combined.  And, his close knit band of guy friends would walk into traffic for one another if necessary.
     Yep.  He is definitely a guy's guy.  So when it comes to the ways of the woman he is particularly unskilled and uneducated.  Now don't get me wrong, and he will kill me for writing this, but he was quite the little ladies man back in the day.  However, that experience didn't aptly prepare him for the true lifestyle, with all it's intricacies, of the female.  So, naturally, he was blessed with a little daughter.  Talk about being thrown into the deep end of the pool!
     It has been quite entertaining for me, these past few months, to watch this burgeoning relationship develop between my little gal and her daddy.  I now understand how little girls get their dad's wrapped around their little fingers because I have had a front row seat for this evolution.  The, previously, bumbling and uncomfortable dad has quickly become the object for most of Sophie's  laughs and smiles.  Daddy is definitely the funniest person on the planet.  Then we get the smile, followed by the bashful head turn, burying her face into my shoulder, then peeking at dad again with a giant smile.  My God!  This girl is a master at 9 months!  I'm in awe.
      However, she has her work cut out for her, because daddy still has a lot to learn. To go into all the in's and out's of being a girl and all the things that baffle mankind would take novels in volumes so I'm just going to touch on the most recent "Big Ugly Surprise" as I like to call it, that my husband has had to face.  CLOTHES!
One of my favorite subjects, one of my husband's least.
     So our 500 degree per day Texas weather has finally started to turn.  BUT, horror of horrors! Our daughter is not sufficiently wardrobed for the upcoming fall season.  She has more options than I thought possible of adorable, very hot weather appropriate clothes but nothing for Fall.  Pretty standard stuff for anyone with a new child.  However, this seemed like a giant mystery to my husband who thinks that Sophie has more clothes than Rachel Zoe.  The fun part for me was when I got to inform him that she would indeed need a whole wardrobe, EVERYTHING! As she has nothing for cool weather.  I thought he might pass out on the spot.  (I forgot to mention-He is also very knowledgeable in the finance dept. and very spend conscious so this is a concept that is very hard for him to wrap his brain around)  However, the REAL fun came when I informed him that she would likely need a new wardrobe for every upcoming season for the next several years as she grows like a weed and will, in no way, fit into last season's clothes. WOW!  Head spinning commences!
     You know the saying, "youth is wasted on the young."?  Well I say, "fashion is wasted on the young!" If someone were to buy me a whole new wardrobe every season for the next several years I would be the slap-happiest gal I know.  I can guarantee that my Sophie could care less about her new duds.  Sigh.  Oh well, at least I'm enjoying it.
     So for my parting words, I offer advice for my husband and daughter.  To my husband: Breathe, deep breaths, Relax, you have a girl and there will be so many things that you get to look forward to paying for that you need to just accept it and go to your happy place.  To my daughter: work really hard at that Pro tennis career that daddy has all planned out for you so that you can, maybe, someday, pay him back.
     As for me, I just sit back and enjoy my husband getting schooled by a 9 month old and him loving every minute of it!
  

Vacation's Over Folks!

Sophie and Wrigley hatching their plan

     After a much needed and appreciated break to beautiful Jackson Hole, my husband and I returned back to the Dallas desert refreshed and renewed.  We came home to a clean house and happy baby who was sound asleep for the night.   Our big boy lab was thrilled to get all the attention to himself since Sophie was already asleep.  My Mother-In-Law and vacay babysitter bragged to us how good and sweet our little girl was and how she slept like an Olympic champ while we were gone.  Life was good! And then the witching hour of midnight rolled around.
     I seriously think that my child may be psychic.  Although she was passed out cold for the night when we got home, somehow, somewhere in the dark recesses of her brain she just knew that mom was home.  AND, she might possibly have formulated a diabolical plot to punish me for going on vacation without her.  AND, I do believe that she got our dog in on the plan too.
    My husband and I,worn out from travel, headed to bed early for the night.  As the clock chimed midnight my sweet girl woke like a shrieking banshee.  30 minutes of rocking later she was back asleep and I collapse into bed.  Then 1am rolls around, shrieking bandit returns.  Back to rocking.  Wash, rinse, repeat again at 3am and 5 am.  My dog then revealed his crucial roll in the plot, and for his roll he truly deserves an Oscar.  At 5am, on the dot, just as banshee is making her final wail before getting up for the day, my sweet, goofy lab proceeds to gag and vomit on his dog bed in our room.
     Ahhhhhh, it's good to be home.  And just in case you weren't 100% completely sure, vacation is OVER!

First "Big People" Vacation Post-Baby. Ahhhhhhh

Sleep.  Glorious sleep.  I had forgotten what you looked like my dear, sweet friend.  I think back on the time that we used to spend together.  Why have you decided to abandon me lately?

Yes, I am well-rested.  I am currently on vacation with my husband, sans baby, for the first time since our dear girl was born.  She is happily carrying on at home with grandma.  We thought about leaving her with our very capable Labrador but grandma volunteered so we conceded.  I kid!

Anyway, the first vacation away from your little one is an interesting experience.  First of all, I definitely went with one foot dragging.  After all, she is so little.  But I must say, once on that plane with one glass of wine in me, I was ready to go.  I chatted up the poor man next to me like we had been best friends forever.  (See, my hubs was in coach, me first class :) )  It was then I learned that I have been somewhat starved for adult conversation.  Anyway, to the man seated next to me, thanks for being an interesting travel companion and for allowing me to talk your ear off.

I then realized how very much I enjoy eating out at restaurants and not being on a time constraint.  It is a bit nice to not have a baby in a highchair next to you who will occasionally yell out as loud as she can.  Heaven!  However, I have also learned that I miss that little rugrat more than I could possibly imagine.  Our trip conversation has been peppered with, "When Sophie is bigger she will love ... (fill in the blank with various vacation experiences)."

One interesting revelation, I have never been more aware of my own mortality than on this trip.  Leaving behind your child makes you worry like some insane hypochondriac on speed that it could be your time to dance with the reaper, and what would happen to your child if that occurs.  First I was concerned about the flight, but that ended up fine.  However, today we had an interesting occurrence.  We are vacationing in Jackson Hole, WY (I hadn't mentioned earlier) and we have been doing a great deal of hiking.  Now there are Beware of Bear and Wildlife signs all over but you always think, "Whatever.  I'm not going to see anything."  Well let me tell ya, that is a stupid way to think!  Today, while hiking in Teton Natl. Park, I was ahead of my husband and rounded a curve only to come face-to-face with a moose.  My uneducated mind 's first thought was, "What is that horse doing on the trail?"  Ummmm, no idiot!  That is a big ole' wild moose!  So, my cool self did what you are not supposed to do: 1) Yell your husband's name 2) Snap a pic 3) Turn you back on said moose and hightail it in the opposite direction.  In case you want to know how a moose reacts to that type of behavior, they charge.  Yep, we survived a moose charge.  At the time he charged, I had maneuvered around my husband and he stood between me and the moose.  Surprisingly, he did not mess his pants.  Yay husband!  As it turned out the moose was just sending a warning, as he charged as far as the trail then turned off and went happily munching tree leaves.  Glad he was happy, because he left us both on the verge of a heart attack.

Moral of the story, don't mess with moose.  Not worth it!

And To Think, Being Up Past 2am Used To Mean A Successful Night Out!

   Our little Sophie has hurdled yet another milestone.  After feeding her her morning bottle 2 days ago I discovered a sharp little protrusion jutting out from her bottom gums.  Yes, her first tooth has made it's glorious debut!  While I'm so proud of her, and aware of how fast these baby moments are all going by, I did reflect for a brief moment at how simply this little tooth made it's appearance.  I mean I had heard some horror stories from friends about their little ones getting their first tooth.  These stories ranged from tales of fevers, numerous and frequent poo's, complete lack of sleep, and inconsolable crying.  Needless to say, I was not really looking forward to teething.
     So here I am thinking, "Wow! That was easy!" But, as I should have known, Sophie was saving the good stuff for a more inconvenient time.  It began that afternoon when she absolutely, almost psychotically, refused to take her afternoon nap.  We actually had to resort to putting her in the car and driving around the neighborhood for 45 minutes while she snoozed.  Haven't had to pull out that trick in awhile.  Later that night, after she went down for bed, she decided that the party was just getting started at midnight.  Let me tell you, we have become way too accustomed to sleeping through the night, because that midnight crying wake up call was very much like being punched out of deep sleep by Mike Tyson.  She then continued the fuss parade from 1am-2am and had one last hurrah at 5:40am.  So much for easy teething!  Silly silly first-time mommy!
     Once again I have learned some valuable lessons.  1) Never get too comfortable in your routine because 7 month-old's don't really "do" routines 2)Teething is really super-awful for these little folk and I feel very sad that there isn't more I can do to ease her discomfort 3) Just accepting the fact that I don't have an active social life anymore and that I really should just go to bed at 9pm because it makes getting up at 1am much easier 4) I, at one time, fully expected to be up at 2am on a weekend night?  Remind me how that was fun because it really sucks now! 5) While I've never been the sappy sort, if I have to be up at 2am, there is a certain sweetness to cuddling my little gal in her quiet room and, finally, 6) I now get why it's called "cutting" teeth.  It doesn't just describe the physical act of the tooth cutting through the gums.  It also describes the "cutting" into your daily life.  Such as, "cutting" into my sleep, "cutting" into my daytime routine, "cutting" into my sanity! 

One tooth down!  19 baby teeth left to go! 

Welcome To Paradise Hubby!

     First time parents + two adults who have minimal exposure to children of any age (yes, we were the ones who looked annoyed when you sat down near us with your child on a plane!) + three months of screaming colic once the precious bundle did arrive + 2 weeks enduring wife's postpartum depression = not a happy husband/daddy!
     I thought I'd take a moment to describe life for my husband post baby.  However, to do so, I have to go back a few pages.  When I met my husband he was a commitment-phobe to the extreme.  He really wasn't all too excited to label himself "in a relationship", was the one who all his friends said would be the last to marry, really didn't think he wanted kids and definitely didn't want a dog (but if he did that sucker would be outside!)  Well, never one to back down from a challenge, I decided that this was my dream man! 
     Now, wait a minute, before you cast judgement from what I just wrote, please keep in mind that we are talking about a good-looking, well-employed, single guy in his 20's, living in Dallas, TX at the time I met him.  He was living high on the bachelor life.  There is a show getting ready to premiere on Bravo called "Most Eligible Dallas", while I'm sure it will be obnoxious beyond belief, at one time, you could probably have cast my husband on this show.  (Oh my, he's going to be so embarrassed and mad at me for that one!)
     Anyway, first came relationship.  Since we are happily married, that obviously worked out.  I can proudly say that he was among the early ranks of his friends to get married.  And, some (I love you guys dearly) are still swinging the single life.  Then came dog.  Our Wrigley!  Oh my goodness do we love that boy!  And that "outdoor" dog idea was soon promoted to "indoor but not on furniture", to "he can do whatever he wants because this is his house and he's family!"  Then came baby.
     This deserves a new paragraph.  We didn't jump right on that baby train.  We thought, "let's stop preventing and see what happens."  Well, you know what happens when you stop preventing? You get pregnant!  After the initial fear, worry and shock that accompanies all positive pee sticks we were pumped.  We took the classes, got the nursery ready, had the showers and then came baby.  She was precious, little, adorable and hubs was just getting warmed up and then came colic.  I literally then watched my husband turn into a Transformer.  Whenever that screeching bundle was handed his way Mr. Roboto would emerge.  The most stressed out, jerky movements would come from my normally laid-back, composed man.  Since I stayed home with her during the day once my husband would get home, often, I would need a break.  Just to stress how comfortable he was with her, my "break" would normally consist of him holding her while they followed me around the house!  And to think, all I wanted was 1 hour of quiet to watch Grey's Anatomy!  My needs were simple at best!  And it lasted 3 months!
     Once the colic storm passed my husband behaved much like I would imagine a spooked cat to act.  He would come in for a peek, then the baby would make a squawk and he would jump back and retreat. However, to be fair, we both emerged from the colic battle victorious but not without scars and post-traumatic stress. 
     A few months have now passed and we have an even-keeled, awesome tyke on our hands.  While we still have our, "I can't believe she doesn't cry all the time anymore" moments, we have settled into life with our gal.  She's been so cool to get to know.
     So, to wrap up.  Ways that I know my husband is down with baby now.  1) He kisses her non-stop when he holds her (very cute). 2) Mr. Roboto has left the building. 3) She literally poo'd in his hand the other day (thank the Lord I wasn't home!) and he handled it like he's been poo'd on regularly his whole life.  He even figured out the complicated equation of how to get the baby to the changing table while not getting the poo hand on her. Get the hand cleaned up enough with baby wipes so that he could change her, set her in her crib, and get his hands washed.   Seriously, that scenario should be an SAT question. And finally 4) If I go out to run errands while she is napping and leave my husband at home with baby I no longer get frantic, panic calls alerting me that she has woken up and I should hurry home.  Ahhh, life is bliss!