Happy Anniversary!

Two years ago this day, I met my love at the end of the aisle to become his wife. I will never forget how when I woke up that morning, my heart was pounding in my chest, and it didn't stop all day long. Just imagining what the day held was enough to send my blood pressure through the roof. I met my best friend Jennie at the hair dresser and then we were off to the hotel to meet the other six bridesmaids: Racquel, Megan, Sasha, Angela, Hope, and Wendy. A limo escorted us to the church where it was time for the final preparations to begin. I couldn't believe I was finally getting married! I had waited what seemed a lifetime for the perfect person for me; someone who would love me my whole life and always be there for me. And here I was. I remember standing in front of the doors of the church with my dad, knowing three hundred people were waiting for me on the other side, and after walking forty steps (I had counted beforehand) I would make it to the alter where that person was going to be waiting for me. My friend Amber had told me to be sure that I stayed present in every moment, and I tried to do that the entire day so that I would never forget a single detail. I had the wedding that I had always dreamed of at St. Paul's Methodist Church with the reception at the Crystal Ballroom at the Rice, both famous landmarks of Houston. St. Paul's is an actual historical landmark of the city, and the Rice Hotel has housed many celebrities and Presidents in its day; from Theodore Roosevelt to Shirley Temple to Mick Jagger. President John F. Kennedy gave his final speech from the balcony of the Crystal Ballroom the day before he died. It was so beautiful. My mom and dad gave me a day that I had dreamed of my entire life, and I did not want for anything that day. It was perfect. Even more perfect was the man God had chosen for me to spend my life with. It makes me giggle thinking back to the night we met that we would be here, four years later, married with our sweet little baby. We are so blessed! I love you, Willie!

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Papa's Little Pal

The fact that my family works across the street from my house is a huge blessing. At any given time, my mom, dad, or brother can be at my house in less than one minute to help me with anything. It also means that I get taken to lunch a lot (BONUS!) Well on this particular Friday past, my dad called and offered to watch Hayden while I walk at the park right outside our house. It's a beautiful park with a quarter mile walking track. Um, yes, please! I am desperate to get back to my pre-baby body, and being as it's summer in the hottest state in the U.S., walking is primarily an early morning or late evening event; and early mornings and late evenings can be hard to get going sometimes with the things mommies/wives must accomplish for their families. You really have to make time for yourself. When my dad called with his offer, I was a little surprised! In a great way! He is very good with his grandbaby and is always holding her and feeding her, but he knows my mom or I is in yelling distance should he need us. But with this-- it was all him. Whoa! Papa all on his own! So he came over and watched her for about half an hour while I walked a mile and a half. The rain was coming in and I figured Hayden would be getting hungry soon. When I walked in the door, they were laid out watching SportsCenter. It reminded me of a picture I have of me and my dad laying on the floor watching football together circa 1979. Some things never change. Good job, Dad. You are an awesome grandpa!!

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{Jennie Haskett Photography} Newborn Pictures

My best friend Jennie is a wonderful photographer and gifted me once again with some gorgeous pictures of the most special time of our lives! She came over to our home the Sunday we returned from the hospital to take newborn pictures of Hayden when she was only five days old. They are so special to me because Jennie put her time, effort, and talent into something that we will treasure for a lifetime. Here is a sneak peek; there are more to come. Thank you to my Pea for being so thoughtful and generous. We love you.
(Please check out Jennie's phenomenal work at www.jenniehaskettphotography.com)

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Surf City

A little Beach Boys always gets the feet to movin'! Hayden and her Nini having some fun, little did they know I was equipped with my trusty iPhone!

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Sister Sasha

I'm a blogging machine these past couple of days! Now that the spurt is over, naps are back in business! I have to catch up from the past month, but hopefully I will be able to stay on track from here on out.

So, needless to say, Sasha was pissed when we got home. She is usually mad when we have been gone a couple of days, and we'd been gone almost three by the time we returned from the hospital. Not only that, but strangers had moved into her home in our absence (my mother and sister in law) and she was not having that monkey business. She went Queen of the Jungle on Meagan and I think scared her half to death. It's hard to convince people how fun and loving your cat is when she's hissing at people. She's gotten a little skittish as she's gotten older. She doesn't like a bunch of people up in her house; she usually goes to her hiding spot underneath our bed. Anyone that moves too quickly to pet her WILL get hissed at. She wants to make this happen on her terms. Stick your hand out to let her sniff, and if you get a lick, you're in. If not, you get a hiss. A harmless hiss, but a hiss nonetheless. Sasha thinks her hiss is ferocious; and incidentally, it does scare the crap out of some people. There are certain people she does like: us (of course. She loves Will. After spending all day with me, she goes to his lap immediately after he gets home from work and stays there the majority of the evening.), my friends Erin and Wendy, and my mom (who is coincidentally has a phobia of cats, but in the last nine years has become as friendly as she's capable of with Sasha. My  mom has come a long way as far as Sasha is concerned. A long way.) She hates my brother, probably because he hisses back at her. My dad chirps like a squirrel at her and she takes off for the hills. If you come to our home often, she's pretty comfortable; and she seems to remember people (namely, Erin and Wendy.) Anyway, so we return home and after the oohs and ahhs over the baby and initiating her into our home, we set out in search of Sasha. We find her in her usual place and we let her know we are home and how much we missed her. Will and I can tell she is upset with us. He had brought home an outfit Hayden had worn in the hospital and put it on our bed so she could get used to the smell, so Sasha had some idea something was up. They say that cats (and dogs) can tell when their person is carrying a child. Apparently they can sense and smell our hormonal changes, and obviously notice our changing bodies. She came into the nursery a lot when I was working in there; she knew that the room was changing. However, I do not think any of this prepared her for the arrival of another being taking us away from her. She is a very spoiled kitty when it comes to affection. She stayed away from us for a week. When she did venture out and we tried to love on her, she'd give us the cold shoulder. Finally, after awhile, I think she realized she was hurting no one but herself (even though it did pain me to see her so emotionally upset.... seriously. Cats have feelings, you know.) and she rejoined us on the bed at night. At first she ran when Hayden cried, but she was also very curious and would creep near her and peek at her. Sasha could not figure out what this thing was in this bouncy chair! The first night that Sasha laid with Will while he was holding Hayden was a huge success for us. We were so happy! And now a month in, she is quite used to the baby. Crying doesn't bother her much at all and things are back to normal, but I think she is still dealing with a little less attention than before. (She got a lot of attention. A LOT.) We do our best to love on her as much as possible. Usually one of us takes the baby and the other takes Sasha. She's still our baby, too. I'm proud of her for adjusting. I know she and Hayden will be great friends one day. 

 Is this room for me?

 Protecting baby sister...

 The first time she ventured near...

 Checkin' her out...

Getting some love from Daddy while she can!

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Family of Owls

The paintings that are going to hang above Hayden's crib finally made it in! They were painted by a childhood friend of mine, Diana Wessels Johnson. She lived down the street from me and her mother was my art teacher. I sent her a few paint samples of the colors in Hayden's room and gave her complete trust artistically, and I couldn't be more please with the outcome. Here they are:

I absolutely love them! You can find Diana's work at http://www.etsy.com/shop/djDecor. 

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Hayden's First Outing

The doctor told me to keep Hayden out of public for a month and I did not wait a day longer. Okay, actually I did because we had company yesterday (and we were recovering from our growth spurt blues) but today after her morning doctor's appointment, baby and I had plans! Big plans! We were heading to Macy's! New shoes for mommy? Nope. Perfume, purse, pashmina? Nope. We were after some tank tops for nursing and some fabulous lounging pants that I wanted in a smaller size (now that I was no longer pregnant. I freaking love these pants.) But, of course, our first stop was Sonic to fuel up with some tea and we were on our way! Stroller? Check. Diaper bag? Check. We hopped out of the truck and started heading inside. She got a little fussy at the door, then the cool air came rushing through and suddenly there were all kinds of lights and sounds. Hmmmm, the look on her face said. What's all this? There's more than Mommy and Daddy and Sasha and friends? We jumped onto the escalator and headed up to the second floor. We had no sooner gotten off the escalator and walked about thirty feet when I could see it coming. I could see it from a mile away. The eyebrows furrowed. The chin dimpled. The lips down turned. Her face turned red. She opened her mouth and let out a wail. Ohhhhh no. I am now that person with the crying baby. The person that annoyed me just a couple short months ago. We make our way to our section. I'm talking, cooing, rocking the stroller. Looking for the tops. Looking for the pants. Tops were slim pickin's; I found the pants. Hayden is now in full blown freak out mode. I take her out of the stroller and drag it to the dressing room while I carry her. "Oh, how old is your baby?" a lady asks as I struggle by. "A month," I reply as I sense her judgement. "It's our first outing." I don't even look back. Piss off lady, I think. Her doctor said a month, and I've been sitting on my couch for a month! We get to the dressing room. At least it's a private place I can stick my boob in her mouth. For whatever stupid reason, the handicapped dressing room is locked. Great. I somehow manage to get this big ass stroller and all our crap into the smaller room. At least it has a built in seat. We sit. She cries. I nurse. She's happy. We rock. She sleeps. I put her back into her carrier. WAHHHHH!!!!!!!! Rinse and repeat. Twice. Finally I decided, to hell with it, we need to get out of here, screaming or not. I struggle out of the cubicle of a dressing room with the stroller and our stuff with one hand. We go to the cashier. But of course! There are five people in front of us, all with an armload of crap! Let me stand here for twenty minutes with my twenty pound purse on one shoulder and a ten pound baby on the other while ya'll chatter and cajole and hahahhahaha. I've had men suggest I go ahead of them in Stop N' Go with only a gallon of milk, but God forbid these ladies think to be so considerate. I had one item. ONE. I think my back is going to break before the old ass lady is done taking her sweet ass time at the register. Finally, we make it. Hayden is asleep. We gotta take the elevator down. Escalator up is one thing, down is another. I have to put her back in her stroller. Thankfully, she goes in with little fanfare. I push the elevator button, thankful she's still sleeping, when... DING! DING! DING! For cripe's sake! The elevator ding might as well have been a damn church bell! Hayden threw up her hands in her startled "Hallelujah!" style and if she totally woke up it was going to be the end of going to the maternity store for nursing tops. I breathed a sigh of relief as we hit the first floor and she was asleep again. Now to high tail it to the other side of the mall. I felt like I was on WipeOut!, dodging all the obstacles and trying to make it to the other side; the other side being back in my vehicle. We wheel into the mall and I have never realized just how LOUD that place is! The horrible instrumental music they play seemed like it was on full blast. Turn it down a notch, DJ Baybrook! People were talking, eating, breathing way too loudly for my comfort level. Hayden is very good with noises; she loves the vacuum, and is fine sleeping with the television on and the doorbell doesn't bother her, but I was paranoid as all get out since the dressing room incident. People are so rude at the mall. They either walk as slow as elephants or don't bother to so much as move an inch for you. This is if they are even paying any kind of attention and not plowing right into you. I've never driven as defensively as I wheeled that stroller. The Motherhood store seemed miles away. Was the mall so BIG last time I was here?! And don't get me started on the idiot kiosk people. Do I look like I want to stop to try your mineral make up or curling iron?! I usually act like I'm on the phone, but I can't do that and wheel a stroller. So the AT&T people need to back up and give me fifty feet, too. We finally made it and thank the Lord, she was still asleep. We actually made it out of the mall and back to our truck without incident. Whew. I had to blow the bangs out of my eyes and turn on the a/c full blast. I was sweating. Before I knew it, we were back at Sonic. Give me my large tea, dude. I'm parched. Take a baby to the mall and you deserve a nice cold drink. I had plans for Target, but that seemed a little ambitious after all that. We'll save that for Mommy's "vacation" after Daddy gets home. 

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I'm a Month Old!

News Flash: Hayden rolled over from her tummy to her back for the first time on her one month birthday! She is very strong. All the nurses were commenting on it at the hospital, and her doctor, my parents, and friends have all been amazed at how well she lifts her head. We've been doing tummy exercises and yesterday she lifted one leg and over she went!

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Growth Spurt Blues

Sigh. Good Lord Almighty! This past week has been something else. No one warned me about the growth spurts and how fun they are. Not. Growth spurts were not on my radar. However, my lovely little Hayden hit one last week. After the glorious night of sleep at my parents', we headed home. I had no idea what the next several days had in store for me. The sun rose on Monday to a happy little baby only to set on the baby from hell. I did not understand why she insisted that I hold her. All. Day. Long. No nap. No break. No sleep. Just hold me! Hold me! Hold me! If she so much as closed her eyes for ten minutes and I dared to attempt to place her in her swing or bouncer, the wrath of the Huggie gods came down on me. What was worse, though, was the fact that all she wanted was to nurse. All. Day. Long. She screamed. She cried. It didn't matter how I held her, how often I nursed her, put her down, pick her up, talk, sing, play, swing, bouncer, play mat, sit down, stand up, walk, bounce, rock. Nothing worked. If she slept, I didn't move. I sat on the couch for ten hours. Yes. You read that correctly. Ten hours. I watched television shows that I never thought I'd watch because the remote was on the table and my go-go-Gadget-arms were out of commission.  Will walks in the door after a long day at work and it was all I could do to hand her over fast enough. I needed a break. My boobs needed a break. All I wanted was a bath. Just fifteen minutes in the bathtub. I have hardly ran the water and Will is in the bathroom, "She's hungry." "She's NOT hungry," I tell him. "I've been feeding her ALL DAY. She is NOT hungry." He leaves. He returns. "She's eating her fist!" He tells me (which is her go-to signal for "feed me.") I am nearly over it at this point. "She's NOT HUNGRY," I tell him again. He goes back downstairs. I hear her screaming. I hear her crying. I am going to go insane. I bathe (as quickly as possible-- leisure is moot at this point.) I take a deep breath and start straight ironing the hair that I just brushed for the first time that day (at 7 pm.) Will returns upstairs to see me doing so. "Are you going somewhere?" he asks. Really? Really?! Breaking point! I nearly exploded. "I have to be 'going somewhere' to make myself look presentable?!" I shriek. "I haven't brushed my hair all day! I looked like Simba when the UPS man came to the door today!" Luckily I've managed to brush my teeth with one hand, but taming my curly hair is another matter. Will-- strike one. "Well, you were getting ready," is his ill-fated reply. Strike two. "Getting ready?! GETTING READY??? Getting ready is for a night on the town, WILLIE," I snip in a voice that was getting rather shrill and desperate. "You've been at work, in public, in the real world with people that go to restaurants for lunch and talk to you during the day! I've been watching "Animal Cops" for four hours!" I put down the iron and head downstairs to quiet our growing baby. (I'd looked it up by this point and realized what was going on. Google can be your friend or your enemy. It was my friend today by telling me that babies hit a growth spurt around week three and that constant nursing is a symptom of this.) We sit. He eats. She cries. I get exasperated. He takes her. I look for something to eat. "She's HUNGRY!" he tells me for the gabillionth time. I've been so upset that I can't even bring myself to tell him what I had discovered on Google. "She's NOT HUNGRY! She's GROWING!" I gripe. "Feed her! She's STARVING!" he insists. "I HAVE NOTHING TO GIVE HER, SHE'S EATEN ALL DAY." I'm feeling rather "empty" at this point and I was afraid my milk supply was depleting and that I wouldn't be able to nurse her anymore. I had diminished our frozen milk stash with my baby-free evening the night before, and I'm feeling somewhat guilty for being selfish while my baby starves. That milk is not easy to come by. It takes time, patience, and supply to fill those suckers up. Willie suggests getting formula for her, which I refuse. At nearly all costs, if I can help it, I don't want to give her formula. (Just a personal preference.) And it had told me in my research that women commonly give up breast feeding at this point because they believe the same things I was thinking. It said to continue nursing, you're never actually "empty," that nursing will prompt more milk to come in, and that your baby is getting everything it needs. It said that supplementing was the worst thing you could do and to NOT GIVE UP. So I wouldn't and didn't. He eventually left with her to drive around to see if it would help. I ate in peace and then called and demanded he bring her back. My imagination was running away with me. Driving can be very dangerous. Ha. So he did, at which time he informed me that Hayden hated Miley Cyrus. I was calm and tried to nurse again. And we kept at it for several days, which seemed endless. Happily, around day four (Thursday, yesterday) she came out of it and we had a very good day. Auntie E came to visit us and she was back to her normal self. Today was her doctor's appointment (where her doctor confirmed that it was, in fact, a growth spurt and I did everything just right) and I was anxious to see what this growth spurt ruckus had gained us. And, sure enough, 3/4 of an inch and 1 pound and 7 ounces. Hmh. At least I know what's going on now and will be well prepared for the next round, at three months. You got nothing on me next time, growth spurt. 

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First Night Out

Last Saturday Will and I were actually given an opportunity for some grown up time! Talk about exciting. Really! My parents offered time to let us go out to eat and a movie, whatever we wanted to do, and to stay out as late as we wanted. Uh, OKAY! Woo hoo! I can hardly remember when I was so excited. My parents were, too. We showed up with our THREE bags of stuff and every stash of frozen milk I had (and that is a precious commodity, let me tell you.) They all but pushed us out the door. They literally told us to "hurry up and leave." Haha, okay, okay! So with a good bye kiss on baby's head, we were gone like the wind. As we pulled out the driveway, I couldn't help but to feel like I chopped off my arm and left it at home (hey, I might need that) but I shrugged it off and tried to focus on the baby-free hours ahead. We were giddy. It felt like our first date. I told Will that it felt like the first time, and we subsequently broke out into song (thank you, Foreigner) "It feeeeeeels like the firrrrst time.... feels like the very first time!" Oh, the joy. My mouth was salivating at the thought of that first bitter sip of pinot noir in my future. We all but skipped down Highway 6 to the nearest Olive Garden (my pick) and we had plans of seeing "Ted" afterwards. Even the Saturday night-six o'clock crowd couldn't bother me at the restaurant. I merrily took my buzzer and made my way to the bar for the glass of wine I had waited for over ten months. "Six ounces or nine?" the bartender asked when Will made my order. "Nine," he replied without hesitation. I had almost forgotten why I always let him order my drinks. Oh, yes. This was why. We made a toast to our beloved little baby at home and I brought the glass to my lips. Oh, sweet liberty! Dionysus was dancing about my head as I relished that first taste of that bittersweet goodness in a glass. Luckily, we didn't have to wait very long for a table and before I knew it we had our salad and breadsticks and I was on to my second glass of wine. Feelin' good, feelin' real good. We had a nice dinner and wonderful conversation for two hours. It was so nice to be with my husband, out in public, and not have spit up on my shirt. However, as the time wore on and the wine disappeared, I missed my baby more and more. In fact, the majority of the time we were talking about her, how life had changed since we'd had her, and what life was going to be like now that she was here, and how much we adored her. As the check appeared on the table and I was checking Fandango for the show times, Will looks at me and says, "I'm tired." "Yeah, me too," I said. "Do you really want to go to the movie?" he asked. And I did, because I wanted to see the movie, but at the same time, a nap sounded pretty darn good. I didn't want to spend $30 to sleep in a movie theater. "Want to take a nap?" Will asked. Yes. Yes yes yes. I was pretty tipsy by this point anyways. I called to tell my parents were coming home a measly two hours after leaving. So much for a night on the town! My dad was nonplussed about this decision. "Dad, we're coming home." "What?" he asked. "We're coming home, we want to sleep," I shrieked with laughter (that was the wine talking.) "Are you serious?" he asked, a little flabbergasted. "Yes, will Mom stay on duty?" I asked between fits of giggles. "Yes, she'll stay on duty," he said. So, we were home by 9:00 and we spent the remainder of the night in my parents' guest room, where I fell asleep ten minutes after my head hit the pillow. My mother was thrilled to take care of the baby during the night, and I was thrilled to get a full night's sleep. At least until I thought my boobs would explode, but that's another matter. Thankful for my parents who gladly do so much for us. We had a great time-- while it lasted! 

THE glass of wine. Sweet Jesus, it tasted good. 

"Ted." The movie not watched. Someday, though. Someday.

                                       

And, for your entertainment..... Foreigner. 

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