25

Dear Samantha,

I wrote you a lovely letter yesterday with every intention of posting it today (it is Thursday, after all), but somehow the entry didn't make its way to our home computer for me to post tonight.

So...pictures will have to do until I can write the proper letter tomorrow. Here are the results of the pictures we had taken in Reedley a few weeks ago:

...but this remains my favorite of all time of the two of us

Love you lots,
your mommy

Forget KFC--YOU do chicken right

Dear Miss Sammie,

Thank goodness you started sitting last week, because we were able to put your new skill to the test this past week with the loads and loads of pictures we took of you this weekend.

The pictures started on Saturday morning, when I dressed you in your “first Halloween” onesie and plopped a bow on your head to snap away. You’re perfectly content to stand and smile…



But when it comes to sitting and smiling, you’re still working on that. I think that it’s still too complex for you at the moment. Oh, well, you’re still cute, even if you aren’t smiling!





Later that day, I whipped the camera out again after I had put your chicken costume on you. I had decided that I’d go for the humorous approach by getting a KFC bucket and posing you sitting nearby. I don’t think you got the humor, though, because you kept falling away from the bucket.







It’s a good thing you like to take pictures, because once again we pulled the camera out when you went trick or treating for the first time at Grandpa & Grandma Max’s. Uncle Tom & Aunt Beth were there to join in the festivities, and so many pictures were taken of you that you truly empathize with movie stars who are continuously hounded by the paparazzi.



After approximately 1,153 pictures were taken of you (seriously—no joke—Aunt Beth had to stop taking pictures of you on multiple occasions because she had run out of room on her camera stick), it was time to move on. Your father was so proud of his little chicken that he insisted on taking you to many of his old neighbors’ houses. Everyone remarked at how cute you are, and you were happy to sit in your new stroller and take in your surroundings.

The evening continued at Nonni & Poppa’s house, where they were having a small get together with some of their friends and Poppa was making his famous corn burritos. Uncle Grant & Aunt Erin were there with your cousin Ben, and we got some half-way decent pictures of the two of you side by side in your Halloween costumes. Ben looked absolutely amazing in the “Where the Wild Things Are” Max costume that Aunt Erin made!





I think it was shortly after this picture was taken that I realized that while polyester-lined chicken costumes may look adorable in the store and even more adorable on the baby, they’re not in any way practical for a five month old. Especially when it’s not particularly chilly outside. You were a good sport, but after taking the costume on and off several times over the course of the evening, the novelty of being a chicken had worn off.

We managed to get the costume off just in time to avoid SBS (Screaming Baby Syndrome), and not a moment too soon. You spent the rest of Halloween fighting off sleep in the crib and reminding us that you were NOT happy about being forced in and out of the costume so many times. So next year…I promise…I won’t make you wear anything polyester-lined, even if it is insanely adorably cute.

If the million plus pictures that were taken of you on Halloween weren’t enough, we trekked you over to Reedley the following day to meet up with Daddy’s cousins and take a million and one more pictures. We took several pictures of the three of us, and I’ve been so anxious to see how they turned out that I’ve spent the day stalking the photographer’s website every ten minutes to see if the pictures have been posted yet. I’m hoping against hope that we got a picture with you smiling, daddy looking at the camera and me without five chins. If we were able to accomplish this, then I’d consider the Reedley mission a success and will print out a gazillion copies for this year’s Christmas card.

Speaking of Christmas, I’m faced with major writer’s block each time I try to put my fingers on the keyboard and write this year’s Christmas newsletter. I’ve got so much to write about, but when I go to sit at the computer, my mind turns to mush and creativity flies out the window. I’m hoping that the ideas flow quickly and easily within the next few weeks, because I’m running out of time here: the newsletter has to go out by Thanksgiving week or it won’t go out at all.


Loving you tons,
Your mommy

PS. Yeah, “pookie” as a nickname isn’t cutting it for me anymore. It sounded fine and perfectly acceptable when I said it out loud, but after seeing it in writing in last week’s post I realized how incredibly horrific “pookie” sounds. It’s right up there with “bunny cakes” in my book, just too saccharine. So…back to the drawing board I go for nicknames.

hasEML = false;

Week 23...Take 2

Dear Miss Sammie,

I’m trying out a new nickname: “Pookie.” Do you like it? Is it too much? Daddy calls you his “ooga booga baby,” Aunt Beth has been calling you “monkey,” and I’m still grasping for that perfect nickname, so “Pookie” has been the new name for the week. We’ll see if it sticks.

Well, Pookie, we figured out why you had been fussy over the past few weeks: you were preparing to hit not one but TWO major milestones: sitting and sleeping swaddle-free.

The swaddle has been your night-time buddy from the time you were two weeks old until just this past week. I’ve written about your bed-time routine before (bottle, swaddle, book, bed), and this normally works just fine for you…until recently. In the past few weeks, you’ve developed Houdini-like skills by becoming such a skilled escape artist that keeping you in the swaddle throughout the night has proved to be rather difficult. Last week, without fail, you greeted me with your swaddle firmly in place around your waist—legs and arms flailing about.

This wouldn’t have been too much of a problem except for the fact that all you had underneath the swaddle was a onesie, so you’d wake up throughout the night because you were getting cold, and if we’ve learned anything from you in the past few months, it’s that you don’t like to be cold. Or hot. Or hungry.

So a few nights ago, I threw caution to the wind and put you in super cozy PJ’s—no swaddle in sight. I don’t think you knew what to do with yourself that first night—you kept kicking and rolling to your side and fussing. Ten minutes later, though, you were out for the night. Gradually, over the course of several days, you’ve come to be rather comfortable sleeping swaddle-free. I think I can say with confidence now that your swaddling nights are behind you.

Demonstrating the swaddle-free bedtime technique.

And as I type this, I’m knocking on wood and pleading to the “that’s-what-you-get-for-thinking-you’ve-got-your- kid-all-figured-out” fairies that your swaddle-free, sleeping through the night phase will continue—say, for the next eighteen or so years?

At any rate, you’ve been digging your new PJ’s with fun stuff on the feet so much that you can’t stop sticking your toes in the air to stare at them, which eventually led to major milestone #2: sitting up. I put you in the sitting position the other day, expecting you to completely topple over. Only this time, you stayed. And sat. And stayed. Long enough for me to yell for your father and grab the camera.

Look, mom! I'm sitting up now!

I can’t believe you’re sitting up now. Just in time for some major picture taking sessions, too. We’re taking pictures of you with both sets of grandparents this year on Halloween (you’re going to be a chicken), and on Sunday we’re meeting up with Daddy’s side of the family for a photo shoot with all of the cousins. Hopefully, I’ll be able to get enough good shots that I can post something when I write your week 24 update.

Loving you tons,
Your mommy

22 Weeks

Dear Miss Sammie Girl,

Teething is here and it’s in full swing. While teeth are looming somewhere beneath your gums and fighting their way through, you’re chomping on anything in sight (fortunately the dogs’ tails are no longer on your list of things to snack on), your clothes are often spotted with drool, and smiles are replaced with screams.

Oh, the life of a five month old baby. I’d be committed to a mental institution if I were to chew on people’s fingers, drool all over my clothes and scream at will. I suppose it helps that you’re extra super-duper cute!

If teething weren’t enough, separation anxiety has also started to make appearances here and there. Last Sunday, I put you in the church nursery. Forty five minutes later, the pager in my pocket buzzed. As I walked by the glass windows of the nursery, I could see the hapless nursery worker holding you and trying her hardest to calm you down. She could have rocked and sung to her heart’s content, but you had already made up your mind that this woman was no match for your mother. Needless to say, you stopped crying as soon as I walked into the room. It stinks for the nursery workers, but it makes this mom’s heart melt because it reminds me of the special bond that we have.

Of course, when the same story played out half hour later and it was your Poppa trying to calm you down, I didn’t feel as good—hopefully you can expand your list of "acceptable people" to include people like your Poppa and your aunts and uncles?

The one person you most definitely have included in your list of acceptable people is your father. I laid you down next to him the other night so that I could check my email. I came back a few minutes later to find this:

Yep, you made his blanket your blanket and completely fell asleep in a matter of minutes. I guess that explains the note on my bathroom mirror this morning telling me how much he loves you and how glad he is we adopted you. He’s completely and utterly in love with you. He is also doing a wonderful job as a stay at home father, branching out and doing things that he hasn’t done in years and years (or ever): changing diapers, fixing bottles, going to the grocery store…the list goes on. He’s quite the guy, your father is!

I guess it’s a good thing that your father’s stepping up to the challenge and taking over everything I used to do because this past week my work-load at school doubled. Yep, it’s time for the school play: Annie. Directing the school play used to be the highlight of my year. This time around, it’s different. I’d give anything to hand over the reins and spend my afternoons with you, teething tears and all.

Oh, well. I don’t have rehearsal this afternoon, which means it’s only 3 more hours until I get to snuggle with you again!

Loving and missing you tons,
Your mommy
　

21 Weeks: The Gigantor Baby Edition

Dear Gigantor Baby…Errr…Samantha,

I’ve got a list of things to do that is a mile long, but because you turned 21 weeks today and are due for a weekly update, I’m giving myself permission to put everything aside and use the blog as an excuse to procrastinate on the to-do list. Grading my college students’ improv books and blocking Act II of ‘Annie’ will just have to wait!

As the heading suggests, you reclaimed the Gigantor Baby title this past Monday when we took you in for your scheduled doctor’s visit. Daddy and I were taking bets while waiting for your name to be called in the lobby of the doctor’s office. He said you’d be 14 pounds, 8 ounces. I thought you’d be 15 pounds, 2 ounces. We both were way off. I could hardly believe it when the nurse put you on the scale and said that you were a whopping 16 pounds (even). At 24.5 inches, you’re in the 75th percentile for length, and your weight puts you just above the 75th percentile.
I hope you don‘t develop a complex when you sit next to your cousins Benji & Wendy Elizabeth this year at Thanksgiving. They’re three months younger and still have got some catching up to do, but they are currently half your size!

While in the doctor’s office, we asked Still-the-BEST-Pediatrician-in-the-World (STBPITW for short) why you had given up on naptimes and were increasingly fussy. STBPITW reminded us that babies tend to throw their perfectly planned schedules out the window and start getting *temperamental* when they’re about ready to hit a new milestone.

I’m betting that you’re about ready to solve quadratic equations, because those the napping patterns (or lack thereof) I described last week are still in full swing this week.

Case in point: last Wednesday night, you gave your Nonni a run for her money while she baby sat you at Grandma & Grandpa Willis’ house: you screamed like a banshee much of the time. We blamed the lack-of-nap factor. Tuesday night, it was Grandma Max ‘s turn to regret volunteering to babysit you: you turned on the waterworks the entire time she was watching you at Grandma & Grandpa Pats’ house. In both cases, the tears stopped when we walked into the room. You even had the nerve to smile and giggle as I held you at Grandpa & Grandma Pats’.

So…kiddo…we’re waiting. What are you going to do next? Please do it soon because Mama really got spoiled with the whole 12-hour-a-night-sleeping-pattern thing.

While you’re figuring out what to do next, here are the pictures from last week’s photo shoot.

First: the 'Seinfeld' poses

Then, the all-important multi-generation picture:



You and Nonni reading "Goodnight Moon" (note the bunny slippers--gotta have bunny slippers! )


We snapped this one while you were still a happy baby:


Once we got you into the dress, though, all you-know-what broke loose. This shot took quite a bit of coercing on our part!


The last shot. By this time you were done. Really and truly, the final picture says it all!




Loving you lots,
Your mommy

PS. I still hate the term "temperamental." Can't we just say "smiles on temporary hiatus" or "baby who knows what she wants?"
　

Week 20.5: Pumpkins and Rice Cereal

Dearest Sammie,

Today's been such a big day for you that I couldn't wait until next Thursday to post.

As we get into the fall season (which is finally here, thankyouverymuch), I have been getting more and more excited about the holidays to come. More specifically, I have been excited about starting new traditions with you, ones that you'll look back on fondly when you're a little older. Seeing as Halloween is right around the corner, I have been excited about going to the pumpkin patch and getting awesome pictures of a smiling and happy Samantha hugging pumpkins.

Um...yeah. While the pumpkin patch happened, the smiling and happy Samantha didn't. The sun was so bright that you didn't want to look up to the camera (much less smile), and when you did look up, you screamed. A lot.

So it's a miracle we got these pictures at all:

Riding the tractor...where the tears began.

Hanging with Daddy by the cornstalks.


With Mommy in the pumpkin patch--note that you're not interested in looking at the camera.

Trying to get that all-important baby by the pumpkins picture.

Finally, I got the bright idea to go behind the hay bales and hold you by the back of your shirt while Uncle Tom, Aunt Beth & Daddy all tried to get your attention.

This picture of us isn't half bad. We caught you in-between screams.

It had been a while since we took a picture of the three of us, so we snagged this one.

I rather like it!

Needless to say, you fell asleep on the way home (hmmm...maybe you were a little tired?).

Later on that night, after your bottle, I decided to be a little daring and feed you your first solid food: rice cereal. Most babies are given the go-ahead to sample solids at their four month check-up, but, due to scheduling, you aren't getting your four month check up until Monday (two days from now)--which is more like five months. Sooo...I decided to give it a whirl and mix up some rice cereal. Again, I had visions of getting the all-important baby-covered-in-food shots. Fortunately, I succeeded in this mission.

Here's your before shot. You were rather bewildered at the bib and bumbo with a tray set up.

The "during" shot. You grabbed for the spoon any chance you got,

so I think rice cereal is officially a hit.

And, of course, the "after" shots.

Love you lots,
your mommy

PS I realized that I still had the old blog title (Sarah and Jay and a Baby on the Way) from when we were waiting for you. Oopsie. I changed it tonight to "Dear Samantha Joy." I think it fits what we talk about a little bit better :-)

The Big 2-0

Dear Sammie Girl,

Another week, another letter. This has been a crazy, what-was-I-thinking-planning-all-of these-things-in-such-a-short-time-span-week. I’ll try to spare you the insanity and make week 20’s letter a little less chaotic that the goings-on of these past few days.

Friday night, we kicked off the weekend by going to the Caruthers’ fair with your Aunt Beth & Uncle Tom. You had a pretty good time and were captivated by all of the lights and sounds of the festivities around you. Fussiness set in around 8:30 , but that was to be expected, considering that you were up past your bedtime. I wriggled you into a way too small 3-6 month onesie and put you to bed as soon as we got home.

Saturday afternoon, I had a heart to heart with your closet as I stood there and unsuccessfully tried to add the way-too-cute clothes I had bought for you that morning to your already packed closet. It was time for me to put my pride aside, so, taking advantage of your lengthy afternoon nap, I packed up your way-too-small onesies and dresses in a box for your cousin Wendy Elizabeth to wear. It was a little sad to take some of your itty bitty clothes off their hangers, but 9 month clothes are really just as cute.

Sunday evening, you sported some of your bigger clothes (I called it an “Ode to Poppa” because it was a hippo outfit) and spent the afternoon with Nonni & Poppa while I took my college students to see a play. I joined you a few hours later at church’s fall festival, and you were unimpressed by the activities around you. In fact, you decided to let everyone within five feet know that you were displeased by spitting up so much that you managed to tag not only my sweater but also the carpet below. You followed that up with screams and sobs galore that neither Nonni nor I could stop. I took the hint and drove you home.

Monday through Wednesday brought about their own challenges. I don’t know what has changed, but naptime isn’t your friend anymore. There’s so much to see and touch and grab (the dogs remain at the top of your list of things to see, touch and grab, by the way), that you don’t want to miss anything…so you stay wide awake. The soothing sway of the swing does nothing for you anymore. And the comfort and tranquility of your crib? Nada.

Your dad and I aren’t quite sure what to do, because even though you’re resisting naptime with all you’ve got, your sleepy eyes are telling quite a different story. To compound the issue, I must’ve gotten a little too smug and told a few too many people that you’d been sleeping twelve hours a night, because you’ve managed to kick yourself into a tizzy at 2AM more than once over the past week. So…you’ve thrown us for yet another loop, kiddo.

For now, the plan is to get you on a fixed nap schedule. I don’t know if it’s the answer to the world’s problems, but it’s worth a shot.

Love you lots,
Your mommy

PS We got the next set of your professional pictures taken yesterday. You started off great with lots of smiles. I was quite amused by the fact that you—a four month old baby—managed to turn three grown women into blumbering noise making fools to get your attention for the camera. I hope our silliness paid off because you were still on your nap strike and hadn’t slept all afternoon so you didn’t last long and threw quite the screaming fit toward the end of the session. More pictures to come…