Look at me now!

When I was watching Aida walk and climb on the jungle gym this morning, my memory flashed to a book my parents used to read to me and my sister. "Look at me now!" had a cover the color of split pea soup and it was all about growing from a teeny-tiny baby to a Big Kid, capable of doing everything from walking and playing with a ball to, you guessed it, using the Big Kid potty.

I don't know what I thought would happen before I became a parent, but I certainly didn't realize how fast an infant moves from barely being able to sit up or make intentional noises like laughter to climbing stairs and fetching shoes on demand.

I mean, three weeks ago, Aida still preferred crawling over walking.

Now, she's, well ...



and



(oh, and the buzz you're hearing is from the parks workers edging and mowing, not a huge bee...)

I mean, seriously. Look at her now!

Aida's sky

Tonight when I got home, I followed and watched as Aida wandered around our backyard.

She spied a lizard and stopped, then chased it until it disappeared.

She picked up leaves and crunched them between her fingers.

She started to eat a rock.

At one point, in surprise, she pointed at the sky and squealed. I turned from facing her to see what she saw. And there it was. A bright sliver of light shining over our backyard.

"The moon, Aida," I said. "The moon is in the sky."

A little while later, I found her staring upward again, this time waving and smiling. I looked up. A plane pink with sunlight floated across the fading blue sky, so delightful to this child that it prompted her to wave.

"Airplane," I said.

"Daaaah," she said.

And with that, Aida discovered the sky.

On turning one

Nov. 12, 2011

Dear Aida,

As I write this, the sun is shining, a cool wind blows and you are in your crib on your way into naptime. At least, I hope. I hear you babbling.

Today is your birthday. You are one year old.  I tried not to throw you a party. I called it "very, very small" and named it "a picnic." It turned out to be a party anyway.

We went to the park and hung a dozen balloons. A 6-year-old helped me string a homemade pennant banner that flapped loudly in the wind. We made turkey and ham sub sandwiches (on French bread) and PB&Js. We served lemonade and handed out juice boxes. People brought beautiful gifts, though I told them not to. And children much bigger than you vied for your attention, taking turns pushing you in the baby swing.

When it seemed you were hungry, we sat you in your red travel high chair before a tiny cake made of carrots and honey and wheat flour. Though I tried to keep the ingredients Baby Aida-friendly, I compromised a bit on the frosting: cream cheese, butter and honey. Three things you've never had. You delightfully destroyed it, sitting contentedly in that chair for a good half-hour or more, smooshing the frosting with sticky fingers, sucking on a plastic spoon and smiling at some of your onlookers. I'm not sure you actually ate any, however.

I'm so proud of you, honey.

On this day last year, I was sleep-deprived but unable to sleep for the sight of you. You were a tiny bundle of blanket and wide eyes. Perfect skin. Buddah belly with a yellow, plastic clamp over your umbilical cord. Little fists that flew and elbows that unfolded then folded back. A mouth that yawned and puckered reflexively. You were our baby and we still had no idea exactly what that meant.

You've transformed us.

You've transformed.

Aida walks (a long way!)

We took Aida with us to the wedding of our friends, Molly and John, in Dade City. Maybe it was something about being all gussied up that inspired her, but she really took off like never before.

 

One year old!

This time last year...

Nov. 8 will never be the same for me.

For close to nine months in 2010, Nov. 8 was the day doctors projected my life would change forever. Steve and I would become something other than "Steve and Rebecca."

We did not know exactly what that would mean. Not that I didn't try to imagine.

Of new teeth, dogs, walking, baths and more...

A few random happenings from our weekend...

1) After much literal gnashing of teeth (and of flesh -- you should see the bite marks Aida left on Steve

Steve's shoulder during one of her more passionate teething sessions) Aida's eighth tooth poked through on Friday. Bottom right. We were wondering when this would happen. After Tooth No. 1 arrived in April when Aida was about five months old, six more followed in pretty rapid succession. Then, nothing. I feel like it's been almost two months since the last one came in. I mean, I'll have to check the dental records to be sure, but...

2) I had to catch my breath three separate times today when I witnessed Aida step away from the furniture and take one step unassisted. Each time, her second step ended with her hand grabbing something for support. But I feel like our little girl is very close to toddling. And, oh man. I just don't even know what to say.

Aida's song

Last week, I got an iPhone. Better put, my husband got me an iPhone with my money. He asked me if I thought it would change my life. I said I hoped not. Then he showed me the digital recording feature. And then we went for a Sunday stroll with Aida. And then I heard her singing to herself. And, so, then, I captured this. (Recorded Sunday, Oct 16, 2011, on a stroll with Mommy, Daddy and our friend Bradley. 11 months old.)

Maybe I like the iPhone more than I thought I would...Or maybe it's just that I love that child.

My beautiful, 11-month-old baby girl

Aida turned 11 months old today. This one makes me teary. One more month til the big ONE, and something about that makes me all kinds of proud and anxius and sad and joyful all at once.

This past weekend, at a friend's wedding in Virginia, I held her and danced with her for a very long time. I squatted next to her as she used my knee to help her stand. I clasped her little hands and let her lead me around the lawn while she "walked" wherever her curiosity led her. I didn't want to let her go, though at times I'm sure she would have been fine with it.

I know in a moment, she'll be walking without me. She'll be moving faster and falling harder. She'll be telling me things that come into her mind and I'll actually understand them. But right now, I feel the need to savor these last few days of her very young babyhood. Her hilariously floppy-handed and purposeful crawl. Her shimmy up my shins when she wants me to hold her. Her middle-of-the-night cries for mama's milk.

Before these things come to an end and her baby chub melts and her hair grows longer and her fingers become more useful and her independence takes more definite shape, I feel the need to write about the baby we know now:

More baby bravery

I have plenty to write about my trip with Aida to Louisiana this past weekend, but one of the highlights -- besides, of course, getting to be a part of my family's fabulous celebration of my grandmother's 85th birthday -- was Aida's sudden interest in and eagerness to touch a ...  Real. Live. Dog.

Here she is going after Roxy Giffin, who belongs to my Aunt Donna, Uncle Wayne and cousins Gabe, Camille and Josh. This was the first time she's ever sought to pet a dog. Video captured Oct. 1, 2011, 10.5 months old. Oh, and her dress is purposely hiked up to allow her to crawl. She was having difficulty with all that SKIRT around her.

Up at night

It's 2:30 a.m. We have to be up at 5. Our flight to New Orleans leaves at 7:15.

I had a hard time falling asleep after spending a several hours expertly packing everything I need to keep me and Aida alive and happy for three days and four nights away from home.

I feel like I'd just fallen asleep and forgotten all my worries when she awoke, crying. I fed her, changed her, rocked her.

Now she's humming to herself in the dark of her crib.

Because the worries that were keeping me awake earlier came flooding back, I thought I'd get online and do a little research to see if I could help inform said worries and put them to rest.

Yeah, that worked.

Reminds me of how I spent many an early morning hour this time last year: wide awake with a computer balanced on my giant belly, thinking about the not-to-distant future and wondering how in the world we would make it.

Gotta believe everything will be just fine.

Playing chase

One moment, she's sitting on her pudgy diapered rear. The next, she has somewhere to be. Slap! Her hands pound the floor. Her head is up. Her legs scurry behind her. Right hand, left knee, left hand, right knee. Flip-flap, flip-flap, flip-flap. I edge behind her, mimicking her crawl, the debris on the somewhat clean floor poking my heavy knees like rocks. "Imgonnagetyou. Imgonnangetyou!" "Eeeeh!" she squeals as my arms come down on either side of her tiny body. "Eeeeeh!" "Igotyou!" I kiss her neck and her belly. She laughs that giggly baby laugh. She stops, sits up, still smiling. And then she remembers she has somewhere to be. Slap!

Getting bigger, getting braver

The first time we took Aida to the pool, she cried. She was five months old, and we brought her to the Y. She froze up as soon as we entered the noisy indoor pool area. As I waded into the baby pool she clung to me for dear life. Our visit lasted 15 minutes at most. She was still shaking when I tried to remove her swim suit in the locker room.

The second time we took Aida to the pool, it was to the outdoor public pool near our home. She was about six and a half months old, I think. Again, we waded into the baby pool and Aida clung like a baby monkey. She wasn't exactly happy to be there, but she coped as best she could by sitting in my lap and staring down at her squeeky toy. She barely looked up, as if to do so would remind her of what an awful, terrible place we'd brought her.

By then, it was summer in Florida. I thought surely she'd get used to a pool. She was enjoying her baths more and more, right? So I bought her a canopied blow-up baby pool. I huffed and puffed my brains out  to get that thing set up in our backyard. She cried as soon as I put her toes in, latched on to the edge and wouldn't budge. Again, her coping mechanism involved grabbing the nearest floating toy and trying her damnedest not to look up.

The second time I tried a month or so later, she cried even more and tried to climb out.

So, we here in the CM household decided to give it a rest. We wouldn't talk about the pool. We wouldn't think about the pool. We didn't read any stories that involved going swimming or any other pool-like activities. We were very, very sensitive to what appeared to be our baby's clear fear of pools.

Then, Sunday came. We went to visit my mom at her bayfront apartment. We packed a swim diaper, a hat and a big bottle of baby sunscreen.

Here's what happened:

Working Mom Stereotype Exhibit A

Four out of five days lately, I wear the same pair of black Anne Klein Sport ballet flats to work.

My jewelry selection is restricted to stud earrings. And my wedding ring.

This week, I walked out of the office for a rare coffee run to Schakolad on Central Ave. and realized I haven't been out to eat for dinner in, God, I don't even remember.

Three of my current top favorite work-appropriate outfits were purchased at Goodwill.

I am happy if I am able to squeeze in a shower and wash my hair in the morning before work. Bonus points if I completely blow dry said hair. More bonus points if I do so using the big, round brush.

My mind still feels like dull static. My ability to focus on tasks is severely strained. I've been trying to write a longer-term story for work and, truth be told, my biggest obstacle is my lack of mental acuity.

I feel like I'm becoming a stereotype, but that I really shouldn't publicly acknowledge that it's happening. Bad form. Professional poison. And, in the name of all competent women who work, heresy.

I drink coffee to help with the brain activity. Doing so interferes with the milk production. I drink more water to balance that out. Doing so forces me to take numerous bathroom breaks, thus breaking my already rickety concentration. I try to run down to the "Nursing Mother's Room" (as the sign outside the door proclaims it) more than once during my eight-hour work day. When I get there and close the door and set the pump up and pull my shirt down and press plastic against my chest, I stare down, tired, and despair over the slow trickle, the tiny splatter that is signaling a truth I didn't yet want to face: my months of keeping my daughter supplied with the healthiest of food is coming to an end.

Am I doing anything well?

Today, I dusted off the two framed photos of Aida that I brought to work with me when I returned to the office in March. In one, Aida stares straight at the camera from her spot cuddled against me in her Baby Bjorn carrier. Her blue eyes are bright under the purple brim of a woven cotton sunhat. Her little nose and toothless mouth like perfect buttons. In the other photo, she's propped up on the couch, reaching up toward me and smiling as I snap her picture on her three-month birthday.

My baby. The day I put those on my desk was a tough day. Tears. Bathroom runs. Broken sentences and sniffles.

How she's changed since then. Sitting. Biting. Crawling. Scaling furniture like baby spiderman. Repeating our words. "Up, down." "Dada." "Dis." "Maaah."

How she's changed. And, my God, how have I.

Home from work with a feverish Aida, Wed., Sept. 21, 2011.

Baby fever

Aida has a fever.

It's the third time my baby's been sick in her short life.

The first time it happened, she was only four and a half weeks old. We'd taken her for her first big show-n-tell at Steve's office Christmas party and, a day later, she was coughing and congested.

For me, that sniffle was a major crisis.

Months before, Steve had scored free tickets to see the Lightning play the Thrashers Wednesday, Dec. 15 in Tampa. He hoped it would be our first date night post-Aida -- one of those pre-baby plans that, post-baby, seems almost absurd.

Even before Aida got sick, I was on the fence about whether or not I could get up the nerve to actually step foot out of the house without this beautiful child in my arms.

I knew that Steve really wanted to have a night out with me. And I liked the idea in theory. But after these days and weeks of marathon feedings, changings and cuddlings, the thought of driving a half hour across a body of water to be in a cold rink with hundreds of people who aren't my baby felt just, well, criminal.

When Aida came down with a cold, it cinched it. What kind of mother, ferchrissakes, would leave her child during her first-ever illness? I urged Steve to go on without me and suggested that my mom take my place.

That night, I held Aida for hours in the dim, yellow light of her little moon nightlight. I draped her head over my shoulder and rocked, back and forth, while the misty stream from a warm vaporizer poured over her face.

In those hours I prayed for her health and thought about all the uncomfortable things that would surely lie ahead in Aida's life, all the things I can't protect her from but wish that I could. The colds, the fevers, the heartbreak and hurt feelings. The disappointments and sadness. The scary things. I'm sorry, sweetie.

We rocked and rocked and rocked. I couldn't leave.

I don't remember now how long it took Aida to begin perking up again. I remember that at some point we placed a towel under the mattress to get her on an incline so that it would be easier for her to breath while lying on her back. And we probably kept the vaporizer churning for a good week.

Last night, when Aida cried and I went to her and realized she was sniffling, I asked Steve to set up the vaporizer again. He placed it at the end of the bed while an alert Aida watched on from my arms.  

Sniffle. Sniffle.

I tried to rock her again a little like I did that night. But this time, my sweet, 10-month-old girl arched her back and reached out for her crib as if to say, "Thanks, Mom. But I really just need to put my head down. I got this."

I lowered her gently, patted her tummy, released her blanky into her care and tiptoed out.

Wishing I could take all the head bumps, sniffles and fevers for you. Taken Sept. 8, when we both had boo-boos on our heads.

Aida's new barrette

Video taken Sept. 13, 2011.

Scenes from the life of a 10-month-old

Aida turned 10 months old on Monday. All weekend, I was having flashbacks of what life was like this time last year. Me, seven months pregnant. Getting so large and the baby so active. Unable to sleep. Unable to work. So hot. So happy. So worried.

 So. Big.

A year later, here we are. Smaller and larger. Getting used to being three. Figuring out our as-normal-as-we-can schedule. Aida entertains us, we entertain her. I put a barrette in her hair. Steve pulls her across the floor on a towel. She laughs at just about anything we do to try to make her laugh. Sleep is still a commodity. But I can't think of any better reason for such exhaustion. Our sweet, sweet Aida.

Sunday ironing. Sept. 11, 2011.

Playing with cups. Sept. 12, 2011. Photo by MaMere.

In the doorway. Sept. 12, 2011. Photo by MaMere.

Breakfast with Mommy. Oatmeal with mango. Plus barrette. Sept. 14, 2011.

Fun in the kitchen

Didn't someone say I could find toxic cleansers in here?

Mmmmm. Colanders.

Almost as tasty as camera straps. (All photos taken Sept. 1, 2011.)

Aquarium disco

When we were in San Francisco last month for my cousin's wedding, Steve, Aida and I stopped in at  the storefront to Dave Egger's writing school, 826 Valencia. It was midway through a long walk from my friend's home to the Mission. I was starting to get nervous that Aida needed to eat, but finding a quiet place to nurse is often difficult, especially when you're in a busy and unfamiliar city. Inside the store, there was a nice, dark, curtained corner just near entrance with a lighted aquarium and two short rows of theater seating for uninterrupted fish-watching or, if you're me, uninterrupted nursing.

'How's the baby?'

In my new life as a mother, there is one question I get on almost a daily basis.

"How's the baby?"

It is, of course, my favorite question. Because, in my new life as a mother, the baby is almost all I think about. I mean, sure, there are other things that fill my mind. There are groceries and dinner and school board politics. I think about whether the gas tank is empty, if I filled out my time card before it was due and if I'll ever lose this extra weight. I spend a large portion of my day thinking about how the heck to string together enough cohesive sentences to be able to tell a news story that someone will run and -- even better, someone will read -- in their newspaper.

But, truthfully (and maybe I'm not supposed to say this), less than a step beyond my every action and plan, is one thought: The Baby.

Audio required

July 30, 2011. Video by Steve.

Aida's joke

Aida's personality is really on display lately. This is making us laugh a lot tonight:

Like I knew you would

We dragged our girl to New Orleans for four nights this past weekend so that I could attend my 20th high school class reunion and squeeze in some time with the extended family I too rarely see. Everything went pretty well. We rented a little apartment in Bayou St. John so that Aida could get her zzzs in private and also so that she could cry out at night without waking up any hotel guests. She was a trooper as we visited family, friends, and even my old high school. When we got back last night, we found she was running a temperature of 101.4. Too much fun, I guess. While she recovers, I'd like to revisit this little moment, captured at my dad and stepmom's house in Ponchatoula on Sunday. It's the kind of moment that makes you realize what you're missing when you're not near enough to the people who share your blood, changed your diapers, celebrated your birth, sang to you on your 1st birthday, showed up at your graduation, welcomed your new husband and, now, love your baby. (Apologies for singing the wrong lyric again and again.)

It's true

Re: The hype surrounding working mothers.

It isn't hype.

Made in America

At 8:20 p.m. this evening, I went into Aida's room, bent over her crib and lifted her limp, sleeping body to mine. Steve helped me strap her into the baby carrier, her head wobbling to the side as we maneuvered her pajama legs through the holes. I tucked a clean diaper into the carrier's pouch, just in case. And then we set out on a 30 minute walk to view the waterfront fireworks show.

Aida woke just as we walked out the door, her eyes wide with confusion. She made no noise except for a sneeze as we walked the mile around Coffee Pot Bayou in dimming orange light toward the open waters of Tampa Bay. She peered up and around as bicyclists passed us, stray fireworks exploded over us and tail lights lined the street beside us in one long parade.

Belly crawl

Aida's all about the belly crawl these days. She uses her toes to propel her body while she directs herself with her arms. I finally gave the floors a good scrubbing this week and started giving her full access to the wooden planks rather than padding her with blankets. She seems to like it. She really appears happy to be on the move. Like she's been crawling in her mind for months and ... finally. Finally! The only time she struggles lately is when we put her in the crib. Seems the bed we once marveled over for its size has gotten too small to contain her. Every once in a while she wakes up, wobbling on all fours or backed up against the railing. Poor darlin.

Here's us playing in her room yesterday morning. She really, really, really wanted my camera strap.

Learning to crawl

Last night was one of those nights that experienced parents warn you about when you're seven months pregnant and filled with bliss over your impending arrival.

Oh, the spirit-crushing words of advice that serve no purpose other than to burst your joy: "Get your sleep while you can!" "Enjoy life now!" "You know your life is about to change, right?"

I think I speak for all expectant mothers when I say, "I get it. Yes. Now leave me alone while I hormonally obsess over what fabric to use for the nursery curtains."

So, anyway, last night: I got no sleep as Aida got no sleep and, come morning, chose to stay home from work in an effort to make up for it.

Sadly, sweet Aida's day was not a whole lot better than her night.

But there was one big highlight. Because I was home, I got to witness this:

With any luck, we will both sleep more peacefully tonight.

A lost month in blogland

It's been a month since I last published something substantial in this space. I know this because Aida is seven months old today.

Seven. Months. Old.

That's more than half-a-year. Five months away from her one-year birthday. Two months less than the length of time I carried her.

Because I've fallen prey to the "My life's too busy/I'm too tired/I'm enjoying living more than I'm enjoying writing about living" excuses, I will attempt now to capture all the things that happened in Aida World in the last month. Then, I will augment this with more gratuitous photos of the girl herself.

Car talk

Driving through downtown Columbus, June 4, 2011.

To Aida on her 6-month birthday

May 12, 2011

Dear Aida,

I love your creases. The folds in your thighs. The ones that mark the ends of your arms and the beginnings of your hands. The ones that bubble under your eyes and turn red when you're tired.

You have two long grooves that circle your neck and disappear into smooth, pink lines when you crane your head backwards as I rock you. (Because you just have to see what's behind you when I'm trying to rock you toward sleep).

The dimples in your elbows melt me.

Looking at you today as you swung in your swing and yappity-yapped it up with nothing but the air, I thought about life six months ago, when I tried my hardest to imagine what it would be like once you were born.

How to eat in your high chair

First, learn to sit up.

Then, open your mouth when the spoon comes around.

P.S. I love the look Aida gives her dad at the end of this.



Taken Sunday, May 8, 2011.

Aida sits. By herself.

This happened Friday...



Sure, it's easy for you now. But imagine how different your life would be if you never learned how to stay upright...

Baby tooth alert!

It's breaking through. I felt it with my index finger this morning -- this little white sliver of enamel poking its way through her lower front gum.

I realize now that's probably what I felt yesterday when Aida clamped down to nurse and her grip made me yelp.

"Ouch!" I cried before she loosened and clamped down again. "Ouch!"

Her drooling has reached by-the-bucket proportions. And while I've resisted strapping a bib to her at all times until now, I might soon reconsider. Otherwise, her little chest is soaked and I guess she might develop a rash if I don't.

That's right: a drool rash. Thankfully, that's something we adults don't normally have to think about.

What's in: Yellow elephant bibs!

I imagine that if we did we'd be getting oodles of fashion advice for must-have bib designs.

This season, yellow's hot! And elephants are all the rage!

I guess this means Aida really is going to continue to grow. I keep asking her to stop, to just stay small enough for me to cuddle with and snack on.

She does not listen. She continues to discover new things every day: how to shake a rattle like a pro, the best way to gnaw on one's toes, how to cry when the big people remove a toy or a spoon or a blanket from one's grip.

Last week, she started raising her booty high in the air when she's on her belly and up on her arms. And she's grunting more. Like her best effort isn't enough for her. She's shooting higher.

We started Aida on rice cereal once a day a few weeks ago, but we were thinking of it as eating practice. With the advent of The First Tooth, perhaps we should starting taking this whole "eating solids" thing a little more seriously.

Can you spell indoctrinate?

Aida in hand-me-downs

Aida age 5 months 2 days, April 14, 2011 

I took this Thursday, after going through a bag of hand-me-downs from my friend Joni. All Joni asked in return for her kindness was to see a picture of Aida in an outfit or two. I think this is my new favorite Aida photo.

Blanket Addiction: The dark side of the crib

Swaddled Aida, 1 1/2 months old, just after Christmas.

We started swaddling Aida from the start.

Like millions of newly expectant American parents these days, we were turned on to The Happiest Baby on the Block by more than one of our experienced mom-friends.

The advice came something like this: "If you haven't already read the book or seen the video, you MUST. Your life will be so much better." Or, "I wish I'd read it before Junior was born."

So, Steve and I watched the video (given to us by two different couples). And whenever Dr. Harvey Karp wrapped up that insane, relentlessly screaming baby and turned it on its side for a little swaying, we looked at each other with astonishment.

Happy birthday tricks

Aida turned five months old today. And what did she do to celebrate?

She rolled over!

Yep. She's a big girl now. Next thing you know, she'll be taking Daddy's Corvette out for a spin without his permission.

Milk run

I had to run home for lunch today. Not mine. Hers.

With Aida's recent growth spurt, I'm still having a hard time keeping enough extra breast milk in stock to keep her fed when I'm away. So, the last week of work days, I've had to dash home to re-up her supply, then dash back.

Anyway. That's not why I'm writing. I'm writing because when I got home for the milk run, I peeked in on Aida and my mom in the nursery, where mom was preparing to put her down for a nap. When Aida and I made eye contact, boy oh boy, the girl started yucking it up like I was a friggin comedienne, laughing her laugh and smiling her smile and blurting out unrecognizable exclamations of crazy joy.

All that noise from little ole her for little ole me. And to think I thought I was living before she came along...

Life with Steve

My husband never held a newborn before he held his own.

I remember looking across the delivery room and seeing him hunched over in a chair pulled to the middle of the room, Aida snuggled in his arms, her staring up at him, him staring down.

It seemed like that moment lasted forever.

In the days and weeks after Aida was born, I found myself telling Steve more times than I'm proud that he better not ever leave us. They say it's biological instinct, this sudden insecurity that bubbles up in a mother bear after the baby bear is born. Steve took it in stride, continually reassuring me in his matter-of-fact way that he wasn't going anywhere. Then, he spent the next two months in round-the-clock service to Aida and me.

Aida meets Winnie the Pooh

Aunt Lynnie and Uncle Bruce drove all the way from Atlanta this weekend to meet our little Aida. It was a blast. Lynnie brought all kinds of wonderful things for Aida to play with and wear. But, in the humble opinion of this writer, the greatest gift was Pooh. Aida seemed to like him, too.

Flow it, show it, dig it out of your salad...

Hair is everywhere. My hair.

Clinging to the couch cushions. Floating and moving along the hardwood floors. Covering the bathtub drain.

It's stuck to Aida's body at bath time and wrapped around her slobbery fingers at play.

The other night, as I finished up making salads for dinner, I noticed a strand running through the red leaf lettuce.

"I saw that," Steve said after I tried quietly to pull it from the plate.

In truth, you'd be hard pressed to find any surface in this house that is 100 percent hair-free. For the past two months, I've been shedding ridiculous amounts -- another whotheheckknewthiswasasideeffectofpregnancy situation.

Turns out, your body holds onto your hair when you're pregnant. So, you don't lose it at the rate of a normal human being.

But hold onto your hats (heh heh) after that baby's born, because you could be bald before you know it. Hair loss is in overdrive.

Poor Aida. She's gonna be so embarrassed by her bald mama.

Pride swells

At some point in the last three weeks, Aida started turning into a real-life baby-baby. She eats more, she sleeps more, she plays more, she babbles more.

I (and my boobs) are just trying to keep up.

She's pulling her feet to her mouth and trying to suck her toes. She's holding her legs to her chest and rocking from side to side. She's happily pushing herself up from her belly and doesn't mind staying tummy-side-down for long periods of time. At night, it seems, she hikes around her crib.

Aida has long, involved conversations with herself on the way to and from sleep. She tastes every toy and every cloth and sucks her fists at every angle possible. She leans forward in the swing now to touch and gum the little toy animals on the tray in front of her. When placed on her back, she keeps her head lifted in a long, deliberate abdominal crunch.

I started "training" her last week to fall asleep in her crib instead of my rocking her to sleep, and she took to it like she'd been waiting for months for me to put her down. What I thought would be a weekend of suckiness and more suckiness, she embraced with the dignity of a champ. A baby champ. Now, she's crying less, sleeping better and generally impressing us with her all-around wonderfulness.

Pride swells.

It swells when she giggles for strangers and friends. It swells when she holds the teething bumble bee between her hands and lifts it to her mouth. It swells when she hangs her head out of the side of the Baby Bjorn on our walks, trying to take in every sight around her.

And when my mom tells me what a great day Aida had while I was at work? Yep, swelling.

"I love her," I tell Steve at night after Aida's fast asleep. "Isn't she cool?"

Steve agrees. She is. And it happens again. I am overtaken. Awash in gratitude and happiness and all things light and airy and fluttery and good. Heartbreakingly, achingly amazed. Heartbreakingly, achingly in love.

Wednesday morning play. 4.5 months.

Aida push-ups

Apologies for my annoying baby-voiced narration, but I must post this. Aida pushed up on her arms for the first time Friday and has been doing it since. Not long ago, putting Aida on her tummy was like putting her in the baby torture chamber. Now, she seems to really like it. And it's a good thing because I have a little case of writer's block at the moment and the other blog post I was working on needs some time to stew. This is from Saturday...the first amazing-miraculous-holy-canoli moment comes around the 54 second mark, in case you're impatient.

Growth spurt

Boy, she's really growing now. And I don't believe my milk supply is keeping up with demand. (Feelings of inadequacy follow.)

Droplets of razz slobber.

Today is Thursday, Thursday, the day before Friday...

It was a good day.

Aida . . .

rolled over from her side to her stomach for the first time.

Laundry

Body image

My back hurts. My shoulders feel as though they've fused with my neck in one hard tangled lump. Tonight, when I tried running, I sensed my bones had shifted.

Oh yeah: They had.

Since Aida was born, my body has become something else. And I'm talking beyond the post-pregnancy pooch, beyond the extra pounds. No, it feels like my once fit-and-tidy body has become a walking experiment in aches and pains. Like with the birth of a baby I added about 10 years to my life.

That's to say nothing about what it's teaching me.

Aida's first fest: Crawfish festival in St. Pete

It's overpriced and all. But she didn't care.

She fought sleep for two hours to be able to enjoy it.

And when she got home, she napped for two hours straight.

Four months old today

Through the night

I awoke for no reason, then reached for my cell phone to read the time.

3:12 a.m.

Wait. 3:12 a.m.?

Aida wasn't awake. She'd been asleep since 6:30 p.m. She always wakes up before now. On a normal night, this might be her second time crying out for help, food, attention, anything.

I lay there for a moment contemplating the situation. Bad thoughts flooded in, most of them colored by what I've read about Sudden Infant Death Syndrome.

All because it's Carnival time

Our best calculations indicate Aida came into cellular existence sometime around the nine-day stretch that encompassed a Saints Super Bowl win and Mardi Gras 2010.

What can we say? It was the happiest nine days New Orleanians have had since before the You Know Whaticane.

Last Lundi Gras, I spent the night smashing metal trash can lids together like a little kid and dancing with the zeal of an idiot aerobics instructor along with the Noisician Coalition, a glorious white-black-and-red mess of a marching krewe.

Steve laughed at me all night long from behind his red and gold Mardi Gras mask.

My sister, a dedicated member of the Noisician Coalition, had given us access to her costume closet earlier in the evening and invited us join in the night's noise parade. So we did, tromping through the Quarter with crazy, homemade instruments, entering one bar after another to overtake them with the improvised rhythms of a maniac clown krewe before spilling out onto the street again.

It wasn't the first time I'd joined the Noisician Coalition on the parade route, but for some reason it was the funnest -- and it quickly melted into my favorite Mardi Gras day to date, one characterized by great joy, communal mirth, and absolute silliness with family and friends. (At one point, I was playing tambourine with a musician on the Moon Walk, ferchrissakes.)

Which brings me to this Mardi Gras weekend.

Dear Aida, About next week...

My sweet Aida,

I hope you don't mind that we rocked a little longer than usual tonight.

These days and nights, I want to memorize every second I have with you. Your tiny body, warm against my chest. Your furry head, nestled perfectly against my neck. The soft, breathy talking sound you make when I scoop you into my lap for the day's final feeding.

Boy do I wish I could stop time.

We've had three months. Fifteen weeks. An otherworldly get-to-know-you period of late nights and early mornings, of intimacy the likes of which I have never before experienced. You have consumed my every thought and action. My waking and my sleeping. My eating and even my not eating.

I am not ready for this to end.

Aida's newest noise

"Eeeeeeeeyuh!"

Sweet child o'mine

Apparently, one skill you develop as a new parent is figuring out exactly the right way to jiggle, bounce, rock and sway your baby into a place of peace and, eventually, sleep.

Aida was relatively straight-forward at first. Put her upright on your shoulder, sit down in a rocker and rock. Done. Out.

On the outside

I think I started rubbing my belly as soon as I knew I was pregnant. Every day in those first few weeks, I'd look in the mirror, my hands hunting my midsection for any sign of The Baby.

Over the months, the motion became as instinctual as breathing. A baby body part would slide under my rib cage and my fingers would chase it. Another would poke up in my lower abdomen and I'd give it a pat.

I remember toward the end of my pregnancy interviewing someone for a news story when the source stopped mid-sentence and asked if I was ok.

Flipping pages

It was nap time, but I'd successfully riled her up with my cheek-to-cheek kisses.

("MMMMMMM-wah!" I say while kissing one side and then the other. "Uuuuhh-huuuh," she responds, her version of a laugh, then squeals through her toothless smile.)

Wait for it...

Does it make us bad parents that Steve and I fall out of our seats laughing every time we watch this clip (and that we watch it over and over when Aida's asleep)?

Aida starting pulling the lower lip pucker at about two months old. It's devastating. And also kind of hilarious.



Video taken Jan. 20, 2011, age 2 1/2 mo.

Desperate times call for desperate measures

Aida likes to eat. This is not a problem.

Aida does not like to eat from a bottle. Problem.

I return to work two weeks from today. And unless Aida learns some flexibility, she will be coming with me.

Today, my mom had a genious idea.

Breast milk by spoon.

Here's how it went:

I didn't know

Hours after Aida was born, I rose from my hospital bed, put two feet on the ground and then felt the entire contents of my bladder empty onto the hard floor below.

I had no idea this could happen. None. But when I mentioned the experience to other mothers, no one seemed surprised.

"It happens!" a nurse and mother of two told me later.

Really??? It does??? You stop being able to go to the bathroom like a normal person???

It wasn't the only time I've been completely floored by what I didn't know would happen after giving birth.

In truth, what has surprised me the most about motherhood is how much I didn't know -- especially considering how many millions of women since the beginning of time have gone through the same thing. Couldn't someone have mentioned these things?

Our new favorite word around the house...

"Ah-gooooooo!"

What's going on in there?

Aida laughed in her sleep twice yesterday while napping.

I know because I was there.

Rock til you drop

Aida is next to me, cooing and making all sorts of pleasant noises as she observes the world from her bouncy chair.

This would be delightful if I hadn’t spent the last two hours rocking her to sleep.

It worked. She fell asleep. Several times.

Tuesday night plans

I am going to bed as soon as I finish this.

I am not...
reading the newspaper.
watching the State of the Union speech.
calling my sister.
finishing off all my thank yous.
doing the dishes.
addressing the overdue baby announcements.
balancing my checkbook.
folding the laundry.
reading any more (today) about how to ensure my baby is getting enough sleep.
or blogging.

I will sleep. Until she calls for me.

Before I forget...

Ten weeks and three days have passed since Aida Orleans came into this world. There are things I haven't written, things I should have jotted down, memories that are already slipping into the recesses of my mind that if I don't write now will disappear forever in this cloud of sleep deprivation.

For the first couple of weeks, I took meticulous notes about her eating, pooping and sleeping habits. Obviously, I wanted to be sure she was eating enough, sleeping enough, pooping and peeing enough. I needed to know she would survive.

But here are some things I didn't write, and should have:

When she stretches after a long sleep, she raises her eyebrows, but keeps her eyes closed and moves her face in a manner that reminds me of a drunken old man.

I miss her when she sleeps

I don't remember the last push. And I had to ask my husband last night if she cried as they placed her on my chest. All I remember is the incredible relief to know she was here, that her little body was whole, her eyes open, her head searching for something recognizable.

As soon as she was born, the doctor and nurses rubbed her down and placed her on my chest, the umbilical cord still connected. She stayed there for an hour. Me hot and sweaty and exhausted, her naked and wide eyed. She rooted, finding what little I had in my breast to drink.

And then, the hour was gone.