Saturday, March 21, 2009

8 Months

As I write this, Baby Boy, you are sitting on the floor blowing raspberries at your sister (or maybe the dog...I'm not sure) happily oblivious to the fact you are another month older. This month has brought your first tooth, marginally less spit-up, and still no rolling over. You are getting very good at sitting, and reaching for whatever you think might be fun to gnaw on. Since you are not due for another appointment until next month, I am not sure how much you weigh or how long you are. I do know you are growing, because carrying you around in your car seat is starting to require muscles I am not sure I possess!

You have a pretty relaxed schedule. Sleeping through the night is hit or miss, so it sometimes determines how we spend our day. We started going to story time at the library, which you really seem to enjoy, but making it there be 10:00 some weeks just doesn't happen. If you are sleeping in after a particularly long night, or happen to want to take a morning nap, we will stay home. It's a small price to pay for keeping you (and mommy!) happy.

This has been a relatively quiet month for us, which is good. We have made some visits to our families and you enjoyed your first Mardi Gras (well, we had jambalaya and you had pureed food, but it was still fun!). We have started going outside more, and I am looking forward to taking you on your first trip to the zoo this week! I have a feeling once the warmer weather comes, we will be very, very busy. I know we are trying to enjoy every minute of you, but sometimes it seems time is passing too fast. I do know we love you more with each passing day.

Happy 8 months, Baby Boy.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009


Baby Girl wearing her Daddy's Wedding Ring

Once again we are coming upon Spring. The days here have been unseasonably warm and I can feel my spirits rise with the temperature.

This is also the time of year I start campaigning for the March of Dimes. Throughout the year, I participate in other causes and walks, but this walk is the most important to me.

7 years ago I was pregnant with Baby Girl. I was due in December, and thought everything would go the way most pregnancies do: 9 months and then the birth of a beautiful, healthy baby.

October of 2002, I learned how my pregnancy would really go: extreme high blood pressure, hospitalization at 27 weeks, preeclampsia, delivery at 28 weeks and 5 days, 7 weeks in NICU.

I knew very little (if anything) about prematurity. I certainly couldn't think of anyone I knew that had a pregnancy like mine. We had a lot to learn.

We know just how blessed we are for the health of our daughter. That she has no disabilities as a result of her early birth is a miracle. I have since met others whose children were born even earlier, and the outcomes are not always the same. It is a humbling experience to meet these families.

We walk every year in honor of our daughter. In honor of our son. In honor of every baby who is born. In memory of every baby lost.

I know this year has been particularly hard on everyone financially. If you are able to give, even $5.00, it would be so appreciated.

You can click on the link at the right to take you to our March of Dimes web page.

Thank you for reading this, for helping in any way you can, and for celebrating every baby.

Every miracle.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

St. Patrick's Day!

I have a special fondness for this day. I am, I think, a quarter Irish. My Dad's Dad was Irish. Or Scottish. No one knows for sure. So while I am very much a third generation Italian-American (by way of both parents on my Mom's side and my Dad's Mom) I have a very Irish sounding maiden name and the super fantastic ability to blind you with the pasty whiteness of my skin. Throw in some blue eyes and reddish hair and you can bet I wear my "Kiss me, I'm Irish" pin without batting an eye.
Dr. Dad is a half and half: Italian and Slovak.
What does this make our kids? Italian-Slovak with a pinch of Irish? Pasta and Pierogies and Potatoes?
And I wonder why I have a fondness for the carbs.
Baby Girl informed me the other day that we are also English. Because that is the language we speak.
Happily, we are to wear green, drink beer and be Irish. If only for a day.

Thursday, March 5, 2009

All About Costumes

I complain so endlessly about the dance studio that Baby Girl attends you would think that

A. I would no longer be sending her there
B. I would just shut up about it and find a new place that is cheaper/closer/not so all about themselves.

You would be wrong.


A. I am too lazy to research another place
B. Baby Girl has declared that she would like to be a Toe Dancer and I know this is one of the few studios that will train her how to do that the proper way.

So I suck it up (for the most part) pay my money, drive her to the class every Monday night September through June and go through a never ending rehearsal schedule for their Recital/Showcase (oh, don't even get me started on why they are called two different things).

This is our third year with Baby Girl at this studio and the first two years just about broke me. It wasn't the schedule, or even the money. It was the costume. Parents do not get any input in what the kids wear, so it is always a "surprise" that shows up as a picture on a bulletin board a few months before the show.

For our first show I must have had a very naive idea of what a 4-year-old should be wearing for a performance because I certainly wasn't expecting this:

I was expecting pink frilly tutu and got Go Go Dancer.

I had high hopes for our second show. Baby Girl was 5 and the costume was a lot more expensive. Again, expecting miles of tulle and pastel leotards. Wrong again:

I couldn't stop thinking "Madonna, circa 1985."

I was really thinking that if we can't get a cute costume going for a group of ballet loving 6-year-olds I might have to bite the bullet and find a new studio.

Last week I saw the other Moms hovering around the boards and got that sinking feeling. I approached slowly...and then I saw it:

(sorry for the poor quality, camera phone picture)

I think I scared the woman next to me when I started jumping up and down and clapping my hands and squealing with glee. It was CUTE! It was AGE APPROPRIATE! It didn't involve animal print or studded chokers!

Ok Dance win. We'll be back.