6 Months: the "oops" edition

Dearest Sammie Girl,

Whoo hoo! You're a half a year old now. I'm determined not to turn into one of those sappy, "Gee, my baby's growing up, it feels like just yesterday we were bringing her home from the hospital" kind of moms. I refuse! But...yet...can'ttttttttttttt....reeee...sist...the...temptation!

Aaarugh! I give up, because it really DOES feel like it was only yesterday that I brought you home and kept you swaddled 24/7 like a burrito and you weighed a mere 8 pounds, 7 ounces. Now, you're my 17 pound, 12 ounce gigantor baby and it seems like a day doesn't go by without you hitting yet another milestone.



This week, two of the quirkier milestones were checked off. First, you've ditched the carseat for shopping and are now sitting up by yourself in the shopping cart. Getting this new viewpoint meant that you were mesmerized by all of the sparkling lights in Target's Christmas aisle. Granted, it was only a matter of minutes before you grew tired of the lights and were demanding a bottle. Fortunately, I had brought the shopping seat cover and you were able take in breakfast and a light show by nestling yourself quite nicely in the seat for the second bottle of the day.

Later that afternoon, I was scrapbooking with your Aunt Erin when you , er, *hit* the other milestone. I had put you in the sitting position (sitting, by the way, is what you now prefer--gone are the days when you'd happily lie down and coo at the toys hanging above you on the activity mat) with some toys, and figured you'd be okay to play for a while. I truly do think that you would have been okay with playing with your toys for a while, but you lost your balance, toppled over, and hit your cheek smack on the footrest of your high chair.

Your second milestone of the day, dear Sammie, was getting your first shiner.


Smack dab on your cheekbone, just below your right eye. Just in time for Thanksgiving. And your dedication on Sunday. And (hopefully) your adoption finalization. This...is...so...not...good. My prayers were answered last night, because this morning when I got you out of your crib, the bruise had healed somewhat and didn't look nearly as bad as I feared it would. The relatives, pastor, and judge will all be able to see that we do, indeed, do our best to take good care of you. Praise God!

Quirky milestones aside, you're no longer exclusively dating the bottle. You've moved on to bigger and better things: solid foods. To date, you've eaten rice cereal, carrots, green beans, sweet potatoes, and apples. When I first fed you with a spoon two months ago, you looked at me like I was a crazy woman for offering you something that didn't have a bottle attached to it. Now, thanks to lots of practice, you've got the eating with a spoon thing down and look at me like I'm a crazy woman if I don't shovel it into your mouth fast enough. You're a Pullen, all right.

I'm a little hesitant to say it, because I don't want to jinx it, but I think we have the nap thing down. While I've been off for Thanksgiving this week, you're doing quite well with going down (in your crib nonetheless) twice a day for naps. Plus, you're still sleeping for twelve hours each night. Now that I've properly jinxed myself and surely sentenced us all to a lifetime of no sleeping, I should add that *usually* you go down with no problem. You took exception to this rule this past weekend when we were out of town for my Uncle John's funeral. The first night, you went down in the pack n' play in the hotel room no problem (thank goodness you managed to avoid repeating the Santa Cruz hotel room disaster by "practicing" sleeping in the Pack n' Play all week). The second night, however, you were woken up on several occasions by various people (read: your father) and freaked out each time you realized you weren't in your usual sleeping place.

Desperate times called for desperate measures, so we gave you a bottle each time to pacify you. The excess liquid must have wrecked awful havoc on your digestive system because OH.MY.GOSH you had the diaper to end all diapers that next morning. Not only had you soaked through your PJs and onto the sheets, but you were SO wet that when I picked you up my shirt got pretty wet, too. Fortunately, you didn't seem to mind so much and didn't get a rash, but as I washed you off in the hotel bathroom, I solemnly vowed never again to give you so many bottles during the middle of the night.

That said, it's the middle of the night, and darling, I have to sign off now. Thanksgiving is tomorrow and I've got to get to bed!

Loving you like crazy,

your mommy

Making it Quick--26 Weeks

Dearest Sammie Joy,

For once, words escape me. How about I let pictures do the talking this week?

Last weekend when you decided that my robe would make a lovely blanket to suck your thumb with.







This would be you when you were *ahem* going on a sleep strike this past week.










Finally, tonight I managed to snag a picture of you doing your latest trick: STANDING without my help!






It helped that Roxy was there to share in the fun:


Loving you tons,
your mommy

Let's Try This Again...

Dear Sammie Girl,

It’s a sign of true parenthood when the picture chosen for the annual Christmas card isn’t the one that makes the parents look good—it’s the one that makes the baby look good. When we took the family pictures a few weeks ago, I was hopeful that we had come up with some good shots—your dad had shaved, I was having a good hair day, and you were relatively easy going that afternoon.

When it came time to look at the pictures, your dad and I were looking pretty good—but you looked confused, perplexed, and/or dazed. Not quite the smiling happy baby we had envisioned. Back to the drawing board we went.

Note the dazed and confused baby.

So last weekend, we schlepped off to the park by Nonni and Poppa’s house to try to get a decent family picture with—wait for it—a smiling baby. I couldn’t convince your father to shave that morning, and I was having a rather “bleh” hair day, but we had a secret weapon: your Nonni. Nonni can get you to smile for pictures like nobody’s business, so I had high hopes for that all-important family with smiling baby Christmas card picture.

We got it—and then some. My hair may have been doing its own thing and daddy may have looked like Grizzly man, but you look absolutely darling, Miss Sammie, grinning from ear to ear. If you guessed that our Christmas card picture was the one where you are showing us the all-important happy baby smile, you’d be correct.

Vanity almost got the best of me and I almost swapped pictures for one that showed my better side (did I mention that in the earlier pictures I was having a good hair day?), but ultimately mother’s love won over and this picture won:

Although, in hindsight, I wished I had chosen this picture—

In other news, we went to Santa Cruz this past weekend. My dear friend Melissa was having a girls’ night out birthday party on Friday night, and I wasn’t going to miss it for everything. As the event was supposed to be child-free, I convinced Nonni to come along so she could watch you in the hotel room while I got to visit with Melissa for a few hours.

I had a great time, but a few lessons were learned over the weekend:

· It is not a good idea to stay overnight in a new place with a baby who’s used to familiar surroundings and routine, routine, routine.

· It’s a REALLY not good idea to make said unfamiliar location a hotel, where guests are probably not wanting to hear a baby tell her mommy how much she misses said routine from 3:45 to 5:30 in the morning.

· When I brag about how much you sleep through the night in front of other mothers, I’m pretty much jinxing myself.

· I don’t know how other mothers of babies do it—I was a goner after one night of no sleep.

· No matter how little sleep I get, you’re still cute. Even if it is at 4:15 in the morning.

· All restaurants should be on the wharf with outside seating.

· Double-check the route that online mapping sites give you. You never know if it’s going to suggest leaving a perfectly good freeway and turn onto totally random country roads.

· Nonni doesn’t like to drive in unfamiliar places at night, and she REALLY doesn’t like driving in unfamiliar places at night after a wrong turn when you’re already two and a half hours late.

· Visiting awesome friends is an awesome way to make a bad week totally awesome.

· When taking pictures outside, double check to make sure that the camera settings aren’t still on the “fluorescent light” settings. Otherwise, what would have been an adorable picture of three generations ends up looking like said subjects are all members of the Blue Man Group.

· No matter how much the diaper stinks, it is never a good idea to stop on the side of the road by a dairy to change a poopy diaper. Poor poppa was still trying to get the flies out of the car the next day.



Love you tons, my 25 week old baby!



Your mommy

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