Why do you let me write these things

Well, I had to go and mention that MP hadn't had a fever yet and of course Saturday night she came down with a low grade fever. I knew something was off when she wanted me to pick her up so that she could rest her head on my chest. MP is a lot of things, but snuggle-bug isn't one of them. While she laid there, I noticed that she felt like a radiator. We took her temp. She had a fever, but it never seemed to get over 100. She was noticeably unhappy but would perk up after a dose of Tylenol.

Went to the doctor today and he confirmed she has a virus, and can't confirm whether or not it is chicken pox. It's a possibility, and we'll know within the next few days, depending on whether or not she develops blisters. Just what I always wanted - a one year old with severely itchy skin!

Fortunately the blood draw went much better this time than before and I think trauma was generally avoided.

MP's a bit like a car - as soon as you take her to the doctor she starts feeling better. She hasn't had a dose of Tylenol since this morning and the fever seems to be gone. So, if we can get through the next few days without any signs of chicken pox, we'll just say LESSON LEARNED... Don't blog about things like "never had a fever" or "never had diarrhea" or "never fallen down the stairs."

Blog is still broken / Catch up

I wanted to wait to post an update when I had fixed my blog, but I'm realizing I'm not going to have the hour or so I need to do that for quite awhile.

Life has been good and busy. I honestly do not have as much time to blog now that I SAH as I did when I was working. During my lunch break at work (or just as a break in general) I would often get a head start on a blog post and update with pictures and do final editing at home. Now my only times to blog are during naps and at night.

Naptime doesn't work because it's my one chance to do housework. While I was working I had a maid come once a week, so I didn't do much toilet scrubbing or mopping. I'm having to re-learn those skills and try to get as much done as possible.

I am usually pretty wiped out after MP goes to bed. I cook dinner most nights and then I honestly fall asleep around 8:30 or so for a nap. I wake up and clean up from dinner, and by that time it's time for The Daily Show and Colbert.

*****************************

MP and I are getting into a routine. We leave the house every day. It's absolutely necessary for both of our sanities.

The mornings are for exercise. After breakfast I either take MP for a walk, or I try to go to the gym. I joined a women-only gym with childcare that offers group classes I LOVE - Body Pump and Zumba. Body Pump is a class for lifting weights. In 55 minutes you work your shoulders, biceps, triceps, legs, back, and abs (all major muscle groups, in other words). The music is great and it's really a wonderful workout.

Zumba is basically latin-style dance. That's it. You just dance for an hour. There's an instructor who shows the moves, and you just follow along. They sneak in non-dance moves (like squats) to make sure you hit all of your muscle groups. It is a blast and really aerobic.

Unfortunately, MP has been cramping my plans. Out of nowhere, separation anxiety has set in. It's funny to me that a kid who used to be in daycare is suddenly afraid of being apart from me.

On Tuesday I dropped her off for a Zumba. She cried off and on (I could hear her) and so I cut the workout to just 30 minutes.

Wednesday I tried to go to a Body Pump class. I stayed with her for about 10 minutes playing, hoping she would warm up to the place and the people. She cried when I left, but I was optimistic she would settle down. About 3 minutes into the initial warm up, they came and got me. She refused to calm down.

When I walked in, one of the helpers was holding her and she just pointed and tried to get to me. (She still isn't saying Mama, and she's pretty much quit calling Dad "Dada" as well). I played with her for another 10 minutes to try and get her to settle down. She would start playing with a toy, and then turn around and collapse into my arms. I finally gave up and took her home.

Fortunately my gym has evening classes (both Zumba and Body Pump) and Dad has offered to come home early enough for me to go to those.

*****************************

I worry about MP. Constantly. I think worrying is normal? Hopefully? I really worry about her language skills.

MP has several words (Baba, owl, dat?, "bababa" (banana), baboon (balloon) and newly added today, "baw" (ball)). But I worry that she doesn't really call Dad or I, Dada or Mama. If you ask her "Where's the clock?" she will look at the clock. If you ask her "Where is the fan?" she will look at the fan. But if you ask her "Where's Mama?" she just looks confused.

Her doctor wasn't concerned since she has other words and is developing language. But I'm worried. I try to constantly talk to her about my name being Mama. I've quit saying "I'm doing_____" instead I say "Mama's doing _____."

I'm worried because there seemed to be a point in time when she was starting to get it - both for me and Dad, and then that knowledge seems to have disappeared.

I also worry about her parroting skills. She only tries to parrot a word if she thinks she can pronounce it. Thus, she will copy us when we say "ball" or "banana" or "bib" or "dog" but she won't try to say "tree" or "kitty."

This is a really scary time for me, developmentally. Between now and 2 years, she should really develop language. This is when big scary life-altering illnesses can begin to manifest themselves (autism spectrum, developmental disabilities, etc.). So I alternate between freaking out completely and telling myself that children develop at their own pace, she's only 12.5 months old and lots of kids don't get language at all until much later. And then I go do some more Dr. Google research and scare myself. :::sigh:::

***************************

MP's one year check up went well. She is 31 inches long, and weighs 23 pounds. That's the 95th and 75th percentiles, respectively. In one year she's gotten 10 inches taller and more than tripled her weight. Go MP!

They let her stand on the regular scale at this appointment, instead of lying down on the infant scale.

She got 2 shots - chicken pox and I think MMR. I could be wrong on the second one. At any rate, she had no problems with either.

In actuality, MP has been a very healthy child, especially considering that she was in daycare. She has never had a fever (KNOCKING VERY LOUDLY ON WOOD). She did have several colds during the winter, but with rare exception they never seemed to really bother her. She has cut six teeth (and a 7th is popping through) without even the smallest complaint. No ear infections, no vomiting to speak of (every time she has vomited, it's been from coughing or choking), and no diarrhea. She's never had a rash and there are no signs of any allergies.

************************

The last bit of catching up is that Uncle B has moved to Huntsville!!! He is just down the road from us (literally... he can walk here). We're so excited that he's moved so close, and we've enjoyed spending more time with him. MP thinks that Uncle B hung the moon. She gets so excited when she sees him and a bit hyper. Dad and I are plotting to find Uncle B a girl so that he'll stay here forever!

Broke my blog

I broke my blog trying to do some updates, which is why I have this terrible default template now. I'll work on making it pretty again when I have some time.

365

Wow. One year (and one day). I've been writing this post between sleepless nights and quiet evenings for weeks - months. There's so much. It's so big. I'll try.

I've joked many times that the last few weeks of my pregnancy lasted longer than this entire year. It's true. I was huge, miserable, itchy and so anxious to meet you. My doctor assured me I would go early, but of course I didn't.

And then you came. Like this Christmas present, livelong blessing and profound burden all wrapped into one. Yes, burden. Not because you are unwanted or unloved, but because I felt, and still feel, so unequipped, so ill-prepared. Here was this perfect, curious, wide-eyed creature that was entrusted to me to raise. I figure at the rate I'm learning, I'll feel like I know what I'm doing the day you get married.

I simultaneously long to keep the baby that is being sharpened and refined into a toddler - a kid - and yearn to see you develop. I practically have the entire developmental chart memorized, and push you to meet and beat those milestones. But with each accomplishment, each change, I wish even harder for the first night we met. The hours after your birth you were wide awake. You knew two things - my voice and Dad's voice. You eyes would search for us as we spoke. Your needs were so simple - to eat, to be held, to be kept dry.

Days before I returned to work I was at my breaking point. The weeks of isolation, constant breastfeeding, physical recovery, worry, sleep deprivation and paradigm shift had taken their toll. I got up to nurse you again, after 3 hours of sleep. As I settled into my chair, you unlatched, looked at me, and smiled. Your first smile. Big tears fell on your head as you at breakfast. I told Dad that I honestly didn't care if you ever learned to do anything else. So long as you knew how to smile at me, that was all I needed from you.

And now? You do so much. You talk ("baba" = sippy cup; "owww" = owl; "dat?" = that?; "bap" = book). You walk. You laugh. You play games. You dance to music. You wave bye-bye. You say "hi" with the phone to your ear. "Hieee."

But you are so much more than a list of accomplishments and milestones. You're my sweet daughter who hides her face on my chest when she's sleepy. My stubborn faker who shows her displeasure with a patent fake cry. My curious explorer who must hear me say 1000 times a day that "dat?" is the oven. My baby who is being whittled away into a toddler.

Over and over and over I've heard "enjoy this time - it flies by." I'm sick of hearing that. Sick. Because it's clearly so true. I'm afraid I'll blink and you'll be waving bye as you get on a bus for school. I'll doze and you'll be moving off to college. I'll turn around and you'll be getting married and having a baby of your own. I know that this is the nostalgia of life. The bittersweet of delighting in your growth and longing for the past.

You will always be my baby. My little girl. The apple of my eye. My cutie-pie. My firstborn. You made me a mom and that is the best present I ever got. Thank you.

Happy birthday sweet daughter.

Because turning one isn't exciting enough

This post will publish on MP's birthday (6/30) but actually happened today (6/29). This morning MP went through her usual post-breakfast ritual of pulling all of the books off of one of the lower bookshelves. The next step in her ritual is to crawl beneath the clock, point at it, and ask "Dat?" over and over until someone answers "Clock."

But this morning instead of crawling, she walked. Like she had been doing it all along. Like it was no big deal.

And then she kept right on walking.

Just yesterday she wouldn't walk without a death grip on at least one finger, preferably two. And then this morning I guess she decided she wasn't going to turn one without walking.

We caught it on video this evening. Enjoy!

Birthday Party wrap up

MP is not officially one until tomorrow (at 9:10 p.m. to be precise (can you tell I'm struggling with this?)) so her monthly letter will be coming later. But her party was a smashing success (if I do say so myself).

We had 17 adults + MP, all of whom were related by blood except one who is an adopted uncle. I decorated with streamers and balloons for the tables and made place cards. We had three tables set up in order to accommodate everyone - one for the young folks, one for the women, and one for the men.

I served bbq for lunch. The only thing that I really cooked was the cake. Here it is:

It was very tiring to make, but I'm really pleased with how it came out. I can't promise that every child will have this cake for every birthday. My arm is still sore from the icing.

Dad made a chocolate on chocolate cake which was absolutely delicious.

MP had her own smash cake. Unfortunately she was so exhausted, she really wasn't that into smashing it.

I helped MP open her presents. She really really raked it in. Books, toys, clothes - everything a girl could want.

Dad and I worked very hard on a video montage of MP's first year. It's still a work in progress, although we were able to show a version of it at the party. There is no way I will be able to upload it to my blog, but I'm considering loading it to Youtube when it's done. We'll see.

All in all, it was a really fun party!

Artsy Fartsy

The party was a magnificent success today. MP just about doubled her toy collection (seriously) and was too overwhelmed to decide what to play with first. A balloon (which she calls "boon") won. I'm not up for a full post yet on it yet, but I promise one soon.

One of my 101 in 1001 goals was to acquire an original piece of artwork. I recently acquired two, but I didn't purchase them. I made one, and Dad made the other!

I am NOT an artist. I've never been able to draw or even doodle. My doodles are all things like squares, and triangles, and if I'm feeling really crazy, hearts. But this was so so easy. A local artist hosts a class where all you do is show up, and she provides the canvas, paint, brushes, everything. She takes you through, step by step. There were 40 people in the class and Dad (brave boy) was the only male.

It's surprising how remarkably different everyone's turned out.

So here are ours. Mine's first and then Dad's. Please excuse the camera angle on Dad's: