Dearest Sammie,
Well, darlin, it's Thursday, which means I should be writing about all things Sammie right about now...but that's not going to happen.
Super-working-mother-teacher I am not. After spending three glorious weeks at home with you, simply going back to school and getting right into the swing of directing Annie (which opens in less than three weeks, thankyouverymuch) has been enough to render me just about unconcious each night.
Fortunately, my darling daughter, there weren't a whole lot of exciting things that happened this week so I'm not feeling overly guilty for skimping on this week's post. I mean, you did finally manage to kick that nasty diaper rash thanks to copious amounts of the miracle product "Butt Paste," (sidenote: Butt Paste is your friend--peaches and mangos are not your friend). So...as I doubt you want me to wax on nostalgically about your red behind (or lack thereof, as it stands right now), I'm going to sign off of this computer and do what I've been dreaming about since six o clock this morning: sleep.
Loving you copious amounts,
your mommy
PS. Forgot something: you also learned to give "high fives" (which, when coupled with me giving you a little tickle on your tummy is enough to send you into giggling kiniption fits that last for days)
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Our Christmas Break (Cliff's Notes Edition)
Dear Sammie,
As my Christmas break wraps up and I try to be superwoman and try to get everything done at once, it dawned on me: I *almost* forgot to post your weekly update today. Whoopsie-doodle! I suspect that you're going to wake up from your nap soon, so here's the quick cliff's notes version of the past few weeks:
The first week of the break was all about Christmas, Christmas, Christmas. We celebrated until we couldn't celebrate anymore.
The second week of the break was all about the sleeping and being lazy. Fortunately, we're both good at doing these things, because we managed to make staying up and sleeping in late an art form.
The third (and final) week of the break has been about getting all of the things done that was supposed to get done over the course of the three weeks. It's been a challenge, but we've been able to organize closets, visit with friends, celebrate our 6th anniversary, make baby food, scrapbook, and cook gazillions of meals to freeze for future use. I say "we" because you've been a champ through it all while I accomplished these super-mom like tasks.
On the developmental front, you're still refusing to crawl. I've tried putting you on your stomach and placing toys within crawling distance, but that hasn't done a whole lot of good. All you're doing is getting frustrated and rolling back onto your back. Fortunately for you, you're pretty good at sitting and reaching for whatever strikes your fancy.
On the tooth front, you're still all gums. I've stopped saying that you're teething (which I've been saying since August, admitedly) because teeth have yet to appear. Every morning I check, and every morning you look at me like I'm a nutjob for sticking my finger in your mouth.
On the food front, you're still eating whatever's put in front of you, and are making strides toward becoming the independant girl that I know you're going to be. The latest? Getting those cereal things into your mouth with pretty impressive precision. The downside of this is that you've developed sweet gums (I can't say sweet tooth because you don't have any teeth yet) and are demanding them quite regularly.
Well, darling, that's the report--for now, at least. In the time that I've written this, you've woken up from your nap (daddy got you up) and are now whimpering/blabbering/squealing as he tries to get your food and his food ready at the same time. I want to tell him that it isn't going to work, but I'm rather anxious to see how he balances feeding both you and him at the same time.
Loving you more than you love your cereal things,
your mommy
As my Christmas break wraps up and I try to be superwoman and try to get everything done at once, it dawned on me: I *almost* forgot to post your weekly update today. Whoopsie-doodle! I suspect that you're going to wake up from your nap soon, so here's the quick cliff's notes version of the past few weeks:
The first week of the break was all about Christmas, Christmas, Christmas. We celebrated until we couldn't celebrate anymore.
The second week of the break was all about the sleeping and being lazy. Fortunately, we're both good at doing these things, because we managed to make staying up and sleeping in late an art form.
The third (and final) week of the break has been about getting all of the things done that was supposed to get done over the course of the three weeks. It's been a challenge, but we've been able to organize closets, visit with friends, celebrate our 6th anniversary, make baby food, scrapbook, and cook gazillions of meals to freeze for future use. I say "we" because you've been a champ through it all while I accomplished these super-mom like tasks.
On the developmental front, you're still refusing to crawl. I've tried putting you on your stomach and placing toys within crawling distance, but that hasn't done a whole lot of good. All you're doing is getting frustrated and rolling back onto your back. Fortunately for you, you're pretty good at sitting and reaching for whatever strikes your fancy.
On the tooth front, you're still all gums. I've stopped saying that you're teething (which I've been saying since August, admitedly) because teeth have yet to appear. Every morning I check, and every morning you look at me like I'm a nutjob for sticking my finger in your mouth.
On the food front, you're still eating whatever's put in front of you, and are making strides toward becoming the independant girl that I know you're going to be. The latest? Getting those cereal things into your mouth with pretty impressive precision. The downside of this is that you've developed sweet gums (I can't say sweet tooth because you don't have any teeth yet) and are demanding them quite regularly.
Well, darling, that's the report--for now, at least. In the time that I've written this, you've woken up from your nap (daddy got you up) and are now whimpering/blabbering/squealing as he tries to get your food and his food ready at the same time. I want to tell him that it isn't going to work, but I'm rather anxious to see how he balances feeding both you and him at the same time.
Loving you more than you love your cereal things,
your mommy
Friday, January 1, 2010
It's 2010!
Dearest Sammie Joy,
Happy New Year! It's amazing what can change in the span of a year. At this time last year, I was writing about flying cars and about how I hoped that 2009 would be the year that we would bring you home. While flying cars never really reached the mainstream group last year, we definitely were able to ring in the New Year with an extra special someone to kiss: you.
Before I get to that, though, I should back up a bit, to Christmas Day. By the time Christmas Day rolled around, it was our sixth celebration and frankly we were ALL a bit tired of the merriment. Regardless, Santa Claus still paid a special girl a visit:
The cool side of it is that you've mastered the art of self-feeding. The not cool side of it is that you've mastered the art of self-feeding and find it only fair that everything WE eat you should eat, too. Mealtimes, while already rushed, have become a marathon event as we gulp food down with one hand while tossing cereal puffs in your direction with the other hand.
We did just that today when we stopped at Taco Bell this afternoon on our way up to Shaver Lake with some friends of ours. I swear, Sammie girl, that if you could have thrown your high chair tray out of the way and wolfed my grilled stuffed burrito down, you would've in a nano second. Fortunately, we gave you your cereal puffs, and this kept you appeased in between your grunts of displeasure.
Our reason for going up to Shaver on New Year's Eve was simple: to play in the snow and get some cute snow pictures of a certain cherubic looking baby.
Check, check and triple check:
At some point, though, you started to look a little too cold so we wrapped my scarf around you and sent you off with daddy to the car to warm up a little:
Once we were back home in the early evening, we continued our New Year's festivities by whipping up the last of the Holiday foodstuffs (and I can now truly say I'm STUFFED and don't want to eat anything that's not a vegetable or meat for a long, long time) and playing games. That's when the *real* fun began as a parent because a certain someone whose name rhymes with "Mamantha" wasn't about to let the party continue on without her. At least, that's what the screeches from your room led us to believe.
So...I got you out of the crib and let you "play" Apples to Apples with the rest of the crowd.
Despite three separate attempts to put you down to bed, your little seven month self managed to stay awake until midnight:
...and yes, those two pictures really were taken minutes apart. The first one was taken in the last minutes of 2009, and the last picture was taken in the first five minutes of 2010. If you're wondering what you were doing when the clock struck midnight, well, here it is:
(you were getting a kiss from your mommy & daddy).
So, my darling, it's the wee small hours of 2010, you've finally accepted that you need some sleep, and I think I should follow your cue and go to sleep, as well.
Happy 2010, darling!
All my love and more,
your mommy
Happy New Year! It's amazing what can change in the span of a year. At this time last year, I was writing about flying cars and about how I hoped that 2009 would be the year that we would bring you home. While flying cars never really reached the mainstream group last year, we definitely were able to ring in the New Year with an extra special someone to kiss: you.
Before I get to that, though, I should back up a bit, to Christmas Day. By the time Christmas Day rolled around, it was our sixth celebration and frankly we were ALL a bit tired of the merriment. Regardless, Santa Claus still paid a special girl a visit:
...it's the Laugh & Learn Puppy, and it sings songs and giggles and does tons of fun stuff that truly amazes you. Santa definitely scored with that toy, so score one for the Jolly guy!
You also "opened" a few other presents from dear old mom & dad: your first DVDs (Clifford), and your very first doll:
...the yawn on your face says it all. I think that dolls won't really be your thing for another year or so, but it was important to me that we give you your first doll...so I jumped on the bandwagon before everyone else tries to get you dolls for your birthday in a few months.
The rest of the day was spent at Nonni & Poppa's, where we opened up some more gifts and spent time with the Pullen side of the family. Great family, great food, great times; but as I said earlier, by the end of the night all I wanted was to go back home with our little family and mediocre food and moderately boring times.
Our little family of three:
Fortunately, we've been able to spend the week between Christmas and New Years being the most boring people ever. And I'm really, really okay with that.
Staying home with you while daddy works on his car has made me realize more than ever what I miss when I go to work each day. There's nothing happening and everything happening all at once. We aren't doing anything remarkable, but that in itself is the coolest thing of all. Each morning, I wake you up (by the way, you treat every morning like Christmas morning with the level of excitement that comes out of your little body when you see me come into your room). After a diaper change (of which I'll spare you the details...but you should be grateful that 2009 was not the year that smell-o-vision Internet was invented), I plop you in the high chair and give you breakfast.
As I write this, I don't think I've talked in this blog before about the major milestone you've hit in this past month: eating solid foods. A week or so before Thanksgiving, we started giving you food beyond the standard bottles. I've been waiting for you to start to reject a food group, but frankly my dear, you love it ALL: peas, green beans, carrots, sweet potatoes...literally, EVERYTHING. You also don't have an 'full' button because you could eat until the cows come home. Then you'd throw the cows on the BBQ and eat them, too.
This past week, under the advice of our most awesome pediatrician EVER, we started giving you the puffy cereal for babies that you can pick up with your hands. At first, you didn't quite know what to do with the star shaped food on your tray. You'd pick it up, keep it in your fist, get distracted, and suck your thumb. In the last few days, though, you've made remarkable progress and about 90% of the food that approaches your mouth in your hand actually makes it in your mouth.
The cool side of it is that you've mastered the art of self-feeding. The not cool side of it is that you've mastered the art of self-feeding and find it only fair that everything WE eat you should eat, too. Mealtimes, while already rushed, have become a marathon event as we gulp food down with one hand while tossing cereal puffs in your direction with the other hand.
We did just that today when we stopped at Taco Bell this afternoon on our way up to Shaver Lake with some friends of ours. I swear, Sammie girl, that if you could have thrown your high chair tray out of the way and wolfed my grilled stuffed burrito down, you would've in a nano second. Fortunately, we gave you your cereal puffs, and this kept you appeased in between your grunts of displeasure.
Our reason for going up to Shaver on New Year's Eve was simple: to play in the snow and get some cute snow pictures of a certain cherubic looking baby.
Check, check and triple check:
At some point, though, you started to look a little too cold so we wrapped my scarf around you and sent you off with daddy to the car to warm up a little:
Once we were back home in the early evening, we continued our New Year's festivities by whipping up the last of the Holiday foodstuffs (and I can now truly say I'm STUFFED and don't want to eat anything that's not a vegetable or meat for a long, long time) and playing games. That's when the *real* fun began as a parent because a certain someone whose name rhymes with "Mamantha" wasn't about to let the party continue on without her. At least, that's what the screeches from your room led us to believe.
So...I got you out of the crib and let you "play" Apples to Apples with the rest of the crowd.
Despite three separate attempts to put you down to bed, your little seven month self managed to stay awake until midnight:
...and yes, those two pictures really were taken minutes apart. The first one was taken in the last minutes of 2009, and the last picture was taken in the first five minutes of 2010. If you're wondering what you were doing when the clock struck midnight, well, here it is:
(you were getting a kiss from your mommy & daddy).
So, my darling, it's the wee small hours of 2010, you've finally accepted that you need some sleep, and I think I should follow your cue and go to sleep, as well.
Happy 2010, darling!
All my love and more,
your mommy
Thursday, December 24, 2009
7 Months: The Christmas Edition
Dear Sammie Joy,
It's Christmas Eve, and as I write this, sugarplums are NOT dancing above your head. I'm afraid, dear girl, that the four Christmas celebrations that we've had in this past week are four events too many. You're tuckered out and over stimulated and sleep is not coming easy to you. I'm not feeling too terribly sorry for you, though, because at seven months old, you've managed to rake in more gifts than most babies in the Fresno-Clovis area. Unfortunately, though, at seven months you could care less about the gifts; tissue paper is much more interesting than any gift you've received.
Our first Christmas celebration was with daddy's side of the family on Saturday. You were a hit, and quite happy most of the day (as long as you were snug in my arms). You got an adorable knit scarf and hat (from Auntie Bethany), a toy laptop, and some very adorable clothes. We *tried* to get some pictures of you and your cousin Keston, but seeing as how he's on the move and crawling now, that proved to be rather difficult.
I give myself 3/4 of a point for getting you guys in the same picture frame, but subtract 1/2 a point because no smiles are to be seen.
The second Christmas celebration was with my side of the family on Sunday. Santa paid a visit to this party, and much to my surprise, you actually were rather intrigued by the guy in the red suit...and didn't scream one bit, and if I look really closely, I think I see you smile. YAY!! Score one for pictures I was really hoping to get and can actually put in your scrapbook!
Ok, I'll give myself an extra credit point because those pictures were *uber* cute.
Did I mention that we continued the holiday tradition by posing the "new" generation of Willises under the tree? We put you all in boxes because you're this year's "gifts." Sadly, I didn't score with this picture, as getting six kids under the age of four (and four of those kids under the age of one) to look in one direction is like trying to catch a picture of Santa's sleigh in mid-air: downright impossible.
Well, at least I scored a half a point for getting most of you kids to look in the same direction.
The third Christmas celebration was at Nonni & Poppa's house with Auntie Erin, Uncle Grant & Ben. It was a breakfast pajama party, so you and I got the opportunity to show off our matching purple owl pajamas.
I got a picture of us in our PJ's, but none of you opening gifts. Score: zero points.
The fourth Christmas celebration was today at our house. We had Grandma Max, Grandpa Mike, Auntie Beth & Uncle Tom over, along with Grandpa & Grandma Pat. I'm fairly certain that the three wise men themselves must've snuck in their gifts, because surely your grandparents and Auntie Beth did not give you EVERYTHING under the sun the way they did today. Seriously--you've got clothes for the next millenium and enough toys to last for decades (at least, if you're still playing with musical balls when you're 30). I got quite a few good pictures tonight, so I'm giving myself a point for effort.
...and that brings us to tonight. I'm hesitant to say that you're sleeping, but it has been awfully quiet since I started typing this. At seven months old (did I mention that you're seven months old?), you could care less about the events of tomorrow, but I am beyond stoked. I've looked forward to watching Christmas unfold through a child's eyes for years while we were waiting to be parents, and now that it's here I'm just beside myself with excitement and anticipation.
But, seeing as how you're seven months old, you probably would be just as content to sit on the floor and drink your bottle. Hmph. Well, I'm still trying to start traditions, nonetheless.
We baked cupcakes for Jesus' birthday
...and left cookies for Santa and carrots for the reindeer.
...Santa even called from the North Pole to ask you what you wanted for Christmas (seriously--it's difficult to get the big guy on the phone on Christmas Eve, but you're so special we managed to call in a few favors). I didn't get any pictures of it, but I did get it on video, so I only scored half a point.
Tonight, on the eve of your first Christmas, your birthmom is really heavy on my heart. I'm so grateful to her for the gift that she gave us this past spring that I can't help but think about her nearly every day. I know that she's happy that you're my daughter (we talked on the phone a month or so ago and she said more than once that she's so glad she picked us to be your parents). I also know, though, that she thinks about you often and wonders what you're doing.
Thank you, Krystal, for giving us the gift of Samantha Joy. Thank you, Jesus, for giving us the gift of parenthood. You, Sammie, are everything we could have asked for, and so so much more.
Merry Christmas, Samantha!
Loving you to the North Pole and back,
your mommy
PS Took you to the doctor a few days ago. You grew another inch in the past month, so you're now 26.5 inches and 18 pounds 6 ounces. Still-the-greatest-pediatrician-in-the-world was stoked at your growth progress and has us feeding you *real* food now. This has led to some fun events--but I'll have to write about that another time!
It's Christmas Eve, and as I write this, sugarplums are NOT dancing above your head. I'm afraid, dear girl, that the four Christmas celebrations that we've had in this past week are four events too many. You're tuckered out and over stimulated and sleep is not coming easy to you. I'm not feeling too terribly sorry for you, though, because at seven months old, you've managed to rake in more gifts than most babies in the Fresno-Clovis area. Unfortunately, though, at seven months you could care less about the gifts; tissue paper is much more interesting than any gift you've received.
Our first Christmas celebration was with daddy's side of the family on Saturday. You were a hit, and quite happy most of the day (as long as you were snug in my arms). You got an adorable knit scarf and hat (from Auntie Bethany), a toy laptop, and some very adorable clothes. We *tried* to get some pictures of you and your cousin Keston, but seeing as how he's on the move and crawling now, that proved to be rather difficult.
I give myself 3/4 of a point for getting you guys in the same picture frame, but subtract 1/2 a point because no smiles are to be seen.
The second Christmas celebration was with my side of the family on Sunday. Santa paid a visit to this party, and much to my surprise, you actually were rather intrigued by the guy in the red suit...and didn't scream one bit, and if I look really closely, I think I see you smile. YAY!! Score one for pictures I was really hoping to get and can actually put in your scrapbook!
Ok, I'll give myself an extra credit point because those pictures were *uber* cute.
Did I mention that we continued the holiday tradition by posing the "new" generation of Willises under the tree? We put you all in boxes because you're this year's "gifts." Sadly, I didn't score with this picture, as getting six kids under the age of four (and four of those kids under the age of one) to look in one direction is like trying to catch a picture of Santa's sleigh in mid-air: downright impossible.
Well, at least I scored a half a point for getting most of you kids to look in the same direction.
The third Christmas celebration was at Nonni & Poppa's house with Auntie Erin, Uncle Grant & Ben. It was a breakfast pajama party, so you and I got the opportunity to show off our matching purple owl pajamas.
I got a picture of us in our PJ's, but none of you opening gifts. Score: zero points.
The fourth Christmas celebration was today at our house. We had Grandma Max, Grandpa Mike, Auntie Beth & Uncle Tom over, along with Grandpa & Grandma Pat. I'm fairly certain that the three wise men themselves must've snuck in their gifts, because surely your grandparents and Auntie Beth did not give you EVERYTHING under the sun the way they did today. Seriously--you've got clothes for the next millenium and enough toys to last for decades (at least, if you're still playing with musical balls when you're 30). I got quite a few good pictures tonight, so I'm giving myself a point for effort.
...and that brings us to tonight. I'm hesitant to say that you're sleeping, but it has been awfully quiet since I started typing this. At seven months old (did I mention that you're seven months old?), you could care less about the events of tomorrow, but I am beyond stoked. I've looked forward to watching Christmas unfold through a child's eyes for years while we were waiting to be parents, and now that it's here I'm just beside myself with excitement and anticipation.
But, seeing as how you're seven months old, you probably would be just as content to sit on the floor and drink your bottle. Hmph. Well, I'm still trying to start traditions, nonetheless.
We baked cupcakes for Jesus' birthday
...and left cookies for Santa and carrots for the reindeer.
...Santa even called from the North Pole to ask you what you wanted for Christmas (seriously--it's difficult to get the big guy on the phone on Christmas Eve, but you're so special we managed to call in a few favors). I didn't get any pictures of it, but I did get it on video, so I only scored half a point.
Tonight, on the eve of your first Christmas, your birthmom is really heavy on my heart. I'm so grateful to her for the gift that she gave us this past spring that I can't help but think about her nearly every day. I know that she's happy that you're my daughter (we talked on the phone a month or so ago and she said more than once that she's so glad she picked us to be your parents). I also know, though, that she thinks about you often and wonders what you're doing.
Thank you, Krystal, for giving us the gift of Samantha Joy. Thank you, Jesus, for giving us the gift of parenthood. You, Sammie, are everything we could have asked for, and so so much more.
Merry Christmas, Samantha!
Loving you to the North Pole and back,
your mommy
PS Took you to the doctor a few days ago. You grew another inch in the past month, so you're now 26.5 inches and 18 pounds 6 ounces. Still-the-greatest-pediatrician-in-the-world was stoked at your growth progress and has us feeding you *real* food now. This has led to some fun events--but I'll have to write about that another time!
Thursday, December 17, 2009
We got Sammie!
Dearest Sammie,
I have been having so much fun these past few weeks with you. You've transformed from a (very cute) blob to an active little baby (still cute, by the way) who smiles and laughs at anyone who will smile and laugh alongside you. Seeing as how cute you are, that pretty much means everyone in sight will smile and laugh with you. The other day you even got a random lady at Costco to follow you around and exchange sly smiles with you. If you had any super power, that would be it: making friends with strangers and brightening people's days.
As the school days wind down and I gear up for Christmas vacation (hallelujah), I'm getting more and more excited about being home for THREE WHOLE WEEKS! Truthfully, while Christmas will be fun, I'm more looking forward to spending time with you, because you're getting more fun by the day.
Case in point: your favorite game, peekaboo. Whether you're ripping a burp cloth off your head as we say "peekaboo" or you're ripping burp cloths off of our head, you're having a good time as the game goes down. To watch you explore and discover new things (like peekaboo) has been so much fun. Really, it's way more fun to play these games with you than it is with your father or the dogs. Daddy would just look at me like I'm a crazy woman if I were to put a burp cloth on his head, but putting it on your head somehow is the funniest thing ever to you, so of course I'm more than happy to oblige.
Your second favorite game of the moment is "throw that toy on the ground until mommy has enough and takes me out of the high chair." It goes something like this: I usually have to do something (usually cooking or something to that effect) so I for what ever reason, I can't hold you at that very moment. So...I put you in the high chair, and being the good mommy that I try to be and wanting you to be entertained, I load the high chair tray up with every toy you own. That's when your fun starts. Rather than picking each toy up and playing with them and keeping you entertained for minutes on end, you pick up each toy, decide that it's not worthy of your time, and drop it on the ground. Before long, all of your toys are on the ground, and I'm left to stop what I'm doing to load up the tray with toys one more time. That's when--wait for it--the cycle repeats itself because once again the dropping of toys on the ground is more amusing than actually playing with them.
That's why we're not getting you toys for Christmas and we've told Santa just to bring you a box of Kleenex because surely Kleenex is way more fun to drop than a trayful of toys. (Kidding: you've got some very fun toys wrapped under the tree and Santa has been given explicit instructions to buy you a very cute stuffed dog that recites the alphabet.)
Speaking of Christmas, we're having a blast telling each other that "We got Sammie for Christmas," because really and truly, we did. With your finalization happening just a few weeks prior to the 25th, I'm very aware that you're a gazillion times a billion more precious than anything else I could've asked for this Christmas.
At any rate, we've been saying "We got Sammie for Christmas" because there's a song in Annie (which I'm directing right now) about Annie's adoption finalization called "We Got Annie." The students caught on to that and have been saying "We Got Sammie" to me. I got a little teary eyed today in rehearsal when all of them turned to you and started singing "We Got Sammie" to the tune of the song from the show. I'd like to say that you chose to be exceptionally cute and charming at that moment, but sadly you were more interested in the pieces of paper cluttering my desk.
As you're less likely to remember it when you get older (very few people remember what happens when they're six months old), the lyrics to the song went like this (the words are changed to what they actually sung to you):
Sammie
Sammie
Sammie
Everything's humming now
Sammie
Sammie
Good times are coming now
Since you came our way
It's Christmas, Christmas everyday
We dismiss
Bad times, sad times
Now they're all yesterday news
Since Sammie kicked out the blues
Sammie
Sammie
Sammie
Look what you've done for us
Sammie
Sammie
Sammie
Turned on the sun for us
Have they sent the cheese?
Yes and ice camemberts and bries
Judge Brandeis
Sammie
Sammie
You filled our life with a song
I have been having so much fun these past few weeks with you. You've transformed from a (very cute) blob to an active little baby (still cute, by the way) who smiles and laughs at anyone who will smile and laugh alongside you. Seeing as how cute you are, that pretty much means everyone in sight will smile and laugh with you. The other day you even got a random lady at Costco to follow you around and exchange sly smiles with you. If you had any super power, that would be it: making friends with strangers and brightening people's days.
As the school days wind down and I gear up for Christmas vacation (hallelujah), I'm getting more and more excited about being home for THREE WHOLE WEEKS! Truthfully, while Christmas will be fun, I'm more looking forward to spending time with you, because you're getting more fun by the day.
Case in point: your favorite game, peekaboo. Whether you're ripping a burp cloth off your head as we say "peekaboo" or you're ripping burp cloths off of our head, you're having a good time as the game goes down. To watch you explore and discover new things (like peekaboo) has been so much fun. Really, it's way more fun to play these games with you than it is with your father or the dogs. Daddy would just look at me like I'm a crazy woman if I were to put a burp cloth on his head, but putting it on your head somehow is the funniest thing ever to you, so of course I'm more than happy to oblige.
Your second favorite game of the moment is "throw that toy on the ground until mommy has enough and takes me out of the high chair." It goes something like this: I usually have to do something (usually cooking or something to that effect) so I for what ever reason, I can't hold you at that very moment. So...I put you in the high chair, and being the good mommy that I try to be and wanting you to be entertained, I load the high chair tray up with every toy you own. That's when your fun starts. Rather than picking each toy up and playing with them and keeping you entertained for minutes on end, you pick up each toy, decide that it's not worthy of your time, and drop it on the ground. Before long, all of your toys are on the ground, and I'm left to stop what I'm doing to load up the tray with toys one more time. That's when--wait for it--the cycle repeats itself because once again the dropping of toys on the ground is more amusing than actually playing with them.
That's why we're not getting you toys for Christmas and we've told Santa just to bring you a box of Kleenex because surely Kleenex is way more fun to drop than a trayful of toys. (Kidding: you've got some very fun toys wrapped under the tree and Santa has been given explicit instructions to buy you a very cute stuffed dog that recites the alphabet.)
Speaking of Christmas, we're having a blast telling each other that "We got Sammie for Christmas," because really and truly, we did. With your finalization happening just a few weeks prior to the 25th, I'm very aware that you're a gazillion times a billion more precious than anything else I could've asked for this Christmas.
At any rate, we've been saying "We got Sammie for Christmas" because there's a song in Annie (which I'm directing right now) about Annie's adoption finalization called "We Got Annie." The students caught on to that and have been saying "We Got Sammie" to me. I got a little teary eyed today in rehearsal when all of them turned to you and started singing "We Got Sammie" to the tune of the song from the show. I'd like to say that you chose to be exceptionally cute and charming at that moment, but sadly you were more interested in the pieces of paper cluttering my desk.
As you're less likely to remember it when you get older (very few people remember what happens when they're six months old), the lyrics to the song went like this (the words are changed to what they actually sung to you):
Sammie
Sammie
Sammie
Everything's humming now
Sammie
Sammie
Good times are coming now
Since you came our way
It's Christmas, Christmas everyday
We dismiss
Bad times, sad times
Now they're all yesterday news
Since Sammie kicked out the blues
Sammie
Sammie
Sammie
Look what you've done for us
Sammie
Sammie
Sammie
Turned on the sun for us
Have they sent the cheese?
Yes and ice camemberts and bries
Judge Brandeis
Sammie
Sammie
You filled our life with a song
Yep--life with you truly is a song (Sorry for the cheesiness. I couldn't resist--you bring out the "aw, gee" part of me in more ways than one). Hey--speaking of song, we're thinking that you're going to be a singer. You've got more volume in your *ahem* "vocalizations" in that little body than most full grown men, and you really like it when we sing the scales to you (the "la la's" as I call them). Whether or not my predictions come ture, only time will tell...
Loving you tons,
your mommy
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Your Testimony
Dearest Sammie Girl,
On this, the week of your adoption finalization, I thought it only fitting that I post what I had written for our church congregation several weeks ago. Some of it you've heard before (in fact, I know that I wrote portions of it shortly after you were born), but it's worth reading again. It was printed in the church bulletin the Sunday you were dedicated:
We welcomed Samantha Joy Vogt on Thursday, May 21st at 12:02 AM. She's a healthy 8lbs 7oz and is 20 inches long. She was the sweetest, most adorable newborn ever. Now, at five and a half months, she's the sweetest most adorable infant ever!
Our road to adoption was a relatively smooth one, but the years preceding that were rough paths of bumps and u-turns as my husband and I tried unsuccessfully to battle infertility.
I don't listen to country music a whole lot anymore, but two songs immediately come to mind when I think of our baby girl and the paths that brought us together: Garth Brooks' "Unanswered Prayers" and "God Bless the Broken Road" by Rascall Flatts.
I'll be honest: I didn't set out to be an adoptive parent when my husband and I first looked to expand our family. I wanted to be a mom, and waited desperately to see what our "mini Sarah" or "mini Jay" would look like. My husband and I joked that we hoped that he or she wouldn't have his hairy arms or my short stature (I'm 4'11"--we need someone to decorate the top of the Christmas tree!). We prayed and waited for the day when I would be able to get pregnant--and carry the baby to term. I felt God whispering "adoption" in my ear, but I was determined to show Him. I was going to do it--I'm a Type-A overachiever and I was going to get my baby no matter what it took. Our broken road to a family continued through several miscarriages, countless doctors' visits and an insane amount of negative pregnancy tests. My husband stood and watched helplessly as month after month I got my hopes up only to have my heart broken again.
In October of 2008, I finally opened my heart and listened to what God had been telling me all along, that we were going to adopt. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but it took four years for me to open my heart to Him and leave our family's future at His feet. Once that decision was made, a weight was lifted and I could smile at the world again. We signed up with Bethany Christian Services...and waited.
Meanwhile, in Sacramento, a young woman found out she was pregnant, and found her way to Bethany. She looked through several parent profiles, and when she came across our picture, God told her that we were her parents...and she listened. When people questioned the birthmom's decision to form an adoption plan, she would tell them that the child she was carrying wasn't hers, that God told her it's Sarah & Jay's baby.
God told me, when we got the call from the agency in March, that this match was ours, and I listened...even when it got tough and the "whatifs" started creeping into my head.
When we first met our daughter in May, she was twenty two minutes old. The nurses told me that the baby was a girl. What would we name her?
I told the nurses the name we had chosen for her long ago: Emily.
And I instantly knew it wasn't the right name. This girl wasn't an Emily. Could Samantha, the name that Jay was lobbying for, be her name?
A few minutes later, the birth mom's sister came into the hospital room to meet her birth niece for the first time. She wanted us to write down our name choices for the birth mom (who had long ago asked for veto power in the choosing of the name).
Our names came back, and the name game was finished for us. Samantha was circled--with a note from the birth mom stating that whatever we chose was fine.
So...in the hospital room, our daughter went from an Emily to a Samantha. And Samantha (or Sammie as we call her) fits her so beautifully.
The next morning, when she was a day and a half old, I went to look up the meaning of the name "Samantha." There, in bold red letters on my computer screen, "Listens to God" flashed before my eyes.
And in that moment, that very moment in the hotel room, I knew that I hadn't named her, and neither had Jay or the birthmother.
God named her. Because the three of us listened to Him. God told all three of us that her name was Samantha...and we listened. Even now, as I write this five months later, tears come to my eyes when I think of the amazing testimony to the power of God.
And no, our daughter isn't a "mini Sarah" or a "mini Jay." She's Samantha Joy, and she was the daughter that God had picked for us before either of us were even born. I praise God that He didn't answer my tearful prayers for a biological child years ago. I also joyously shout to the Heavens that He blessed the broken road that led us straight to Samantha.
Loving you now and always,
your mommy
On this, the week of your adoption finalization, I thought it only fitting that I post what I had written for our church congregation several weeks ago. Some of it you've heard before (in fact, I know that I wrote portions of it shortly after you were born), but it's worth reading again. It was printed in the church bulletin the Sunday you were dedicated:We welcomed Samantha Joy Vogt on Thursday, May 21st at 12:02 AM. She's a healthy 8lbs 7oz and is 20 inches long. She was the sweetest, most adorable newborn ever. Now, at five and a half months, she's the sweetest most adorable infant ever!
Our road to adoption was a relatively smooth one, but the years preceding that were rough paths of bumps and u-turns as my husband and I tried unsuccessfully to battle infertility.
I don't listen to country music a whole lot anymore, but two songs immediately come to mind when I think of our baby girl and the paths that brought us together: Garth Brooks' "Unanswered Prayers" and "God Bless the Broken Road" by Rascall Flatts.
I'll be honest: I didn't set out to be an adoptive parent when my husband and I first looked to expand our family. I wanted to be a mom, and waited desperately to see what our "mini Sarah" or "mini Jay" would look like. My husband and I joked that we hoped that he or she wouldn't have his hairy arms or my short stature (I'm 4'11"--we need someone to decorate the top of the Christmas tree!). We prayed and waited for the day when I would be able to get pregnant--and carry the baby to term. I felt God whispering "adoption" in my ear, but I was determined to show Him. I was going to do it--I'm a Type-A overachiever and I was going to get my baby no matter what it took. Our broken road to a family continued through several miscarriages, countless doctors' visits and an insane amount of negative pregnancy tests. My husband stood and watched helplessly as month after month I got my hopes up only to have my heart broken again.
In October of 2008, I finally opened my heart and listened to what God had been telling me all along, that we were going to adopt. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but it took four years for me to open my heart to Him and leave our family's future at His feet. Once that decision was made, a weight was lifted and I could smile at the world again. We signed up with Bethany Christian Services...and waited.
Meanwhile, in Sacramento, a young woman found out she was pregnant, and found her way to Bethany. She looked through several parent profiles, and when she came across our picture, God told her that we were her parents...and she listened. When people questioned the birthmom's decision to form an adoption plan, she would tell them that the child she was carrying wasn't hers, that God told her it's Sarah & Jay's baby.
God told me, when we got the call from the agency in March, that this match was ours, and I listened...even when it got tough and the "whatifs" started creeping into my head.
When we first met our daughter in May, she was twenty two minutes old. The nurses told me that the baby was a girl. What would we name her?
I told the nurses the name we had chosen for her long ago: Emily.
And I instantly knew it wasn't the right name. This girl wasn't an Emily. Could Samantha, the name that Jay was lobbying for, be her name?
A few minutes later, the birth mom's sister came into the hospital room to meet her birth niece for the first time. She wanted us to write down our name choices for the birth mom (who had long ago asked for veto power in the choosing of the name).
Our names came back, and the name game was finished for us. Samantha was circled--with a note from the birth mom stating that whatever we chose was fine.
So...in the hospital room, our daughter went from an Emily to a Samantha. And Samantha (or Sammie as we call her) fits her so beautifully.
The next morning, when she was a day and a half old, I went to look up the meaning of the name "Samantha." There, in bold red letters on my computer screen, "Listens to God" flashed before my eyes.
And in that moment, that very moment in the hotel room, I knew that I hadn't named her, and neither had Jay or the birthmother.
God named her. Because the three of us listened to Him. God told all three of us that her name was Samantha...and we listened. Even now, as I write this five months later, tears come to my eyes when I think of the amazing testimony to the power of God.
And no, our daughter isn't a "mini Sarah" or a "mini Jay." She's Samantha Joy, and she was the daughter that God had picked for us before either of us were even born. I praise God that He didn't answer my tearful prayers for a biological child years ago. I also joyously shout to the Heavens that He blessed the broken road that led us straight to Samantha.
Loving you now and always,
your mommy
Monday, December 7, 2009
Happy Family Day!
Dear Sammie,
Although you've been a Vogt all along, today it all became official. We, along with both sets of grandparents and Aunt Beth, stood before a judge and promised to love and care for you and raise you as our daughter.
The people in the court system were wonderfully compassionate. The court clerk showered you with gifts (a teddy bear and a Sesame Street book), the judge ooh'd and aah'd over you, and the bailiff made sure that we waited for the finalization to happen until your poppa made it safely in the courthouse (he was running late from school and then got stopped by security for his fingernail clippers).
You seemed to know that everything was all for you, because you had no problem putting on a show and smiling for everyone in sight. You also took it upon yourself to perform your new trick: a sigh, followed by a smile and blowing raspberries.
After we'd played with the bear and taken a gazillion photos, it was time for the big event: the finalization. The judge let the grandparents and Aunt Beth go into the jury chamber, where they had a great vantage point for watching everything unfold. She stated for the record that the court accepted the FAXed copies of the adoption records and read the prepared documents from Bethany (my heart sunk when she read that your birth mom relinquished her rights on March 21st instead of the actual date of May 21st--when I reluctantly brought the correct date up, the judge assured me it was okay and made a notation on the file). She asked us some questions, we and we signed some papers, and then...our lives "officially" began as the Vogt family of three.
I tried desperately to hold it together and to keep from being a blumbering mess, but failed once I looked over and saw Nonni's eyes welling up and her eyes filling with happy tears. It dawned on me at that moment, Sammie Joy...that you are ours forever. Everyone should have the joy of being able to stand in front of an offical and, in the most beautiful and sacred rite of passage, become parents with the teaful vows we made to you today.
What happened today was more than just signing off papers and standing before a judge. It was the "official" start of our family. You've been our daughter all along, but from this point on--the 'maybes' and 'whatifs' can be put to rest--you're OURS.
Happy Family Day, little girl!
All my love and then some,
your mommy
Although you've been a Vogt all along, today it all became official. We, along with both sets of grandparents and Aunt Beth, stood before a judge and promised to love and care for you and raise you as our daughter.
The people in the court system were wonderfully compassionate. The court clerk showered you with gifts (a teddy bear and a Sesame Street book), the judge ooh'd and aah'd over you, and the bailiff made sure that we waited for the finalization to happen until your poppa made it safely in the courthouse (he was running late from school and then got stopped by security for his fingernail clippers).
You seemed to know that everything was all for you, because you had no problem putting on a show and smiling for everyone in sight. You also took it upon yourself to perform your new trick: a sigh, followed by a smile and blowing raspberries.
After we'd played with the bear and taken a gazillion photos, it was time for the big event: the finalization. The judge let the grandparents and Aunt Beth go into the jury chamber, where they had a great vantage point for watching everything unfold. She stated for the record that the court accepted the FAXed copies of the adoption records and read the prepared documents from Bethany (my heart sunk when she read that your birth mom relinquished her rights on March 21st instead of the actual date of May 21st--when I reluctantly brought the correct date up, the judge assured me it was okay and made a notation on the file). She asked us some questions, we and we signed some papers, and then...our lives "officially" began as the Vogt family of three.
I tried desperately to hold it together and to keep from being a blumbering mess, but failed once I looked over and saw Nonni's eyes welling up and her eyes filling with happy tears. It dawned on me at that moment, Sammie Joy...that you are ours forever. Everyone should have the joy of being able to stand in front of an offical and, in the most beautiful and sacred rite of passage, become parents with the teaful vows we made to you today.
What happened today was more than just signing off papers and standing before a judge. It was the "official" start of our family. You've been our daughter all along, but from this point on--the 'maybes' and 'whatifs' can be put to rest--you're OURS.
Happy Family Day, little girl!
All my love and then some,
your mommy
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