11 in '11

2011 is almost under our belts and to ring in the New Year, I thought I'd reflect on the year and share some of my revelations from 2011. 

1. My husband is exempt from the rule about not waking a sleeping baby.

2. I liked my old job....but not that much.

3. Stories in the news about parents who hurt their children are even more unfathomable after having a child of my own.

4. Alarm clocks are useless and unnecessary.

5. There is nothing sweeter than a sleeping baby

6.  Women are not responsible for what they say in the delivery room...and apparently neither are husbands (remember Eric's promise? Yeah, he forgot, too).

7.  Changing your own child's diaper really isn't that bad...unless that child only goes once a week.

8.  There are lots of useless baby gear on the market.  The bouncy seat that hangs in the doorway is not one of them.  Thanks to it, and to my neighbor who passed it on to us, (thanks Scarlet!) I shower regularly.

9. It is not possible to will a baby to sleep.

9b. Whoever coined the term "sleeping like a baby" either wasn't a parent or they fed their baby opiates.

10. Post-baby, when you do stupid things, instead of blaming it on the color of your hair, you can blame it on lack of sleep and you'll get a free pass.

11. Life doesn't end when you have a baby (as some will lead you to believe), it begins.

It will be hard to top 2011, but I'm hoping for good things in 2012.  Happy New Year!

Christmas in Iowa

I've spent many Christmas' in Iowa, but this may have been the most fun.  I usually use Christmas vacation as an excuse to sleep in, but this year, courtesy of Brady, we were usually the first to rise!

My good friend, Shelby, came over for brunch on Friday morning.  She is from Iowa, but I met her in North Carolina, of all places.  She was my first roommate but I knew little about her before moving in with her when I first moved to NC.  This was before facebook was big, so I didn't have adequate time to stalk her.  I just knew her name was Shelby and she lived on a farm in Iowa...expectations were low, but she definitely exceeded them.  She now back on a farm in Iowa and has a sweet 1 year old named Thomas.  He joined the circus that was our house and fit right in!

It didn't snow in Iowa, but that didn't stop us from dressing up Brady in his snow gear.

Getting 3 kids under 2 in a photo is no easy feat.

It seems that Brady has a good memory.  Back in August, Leo took advantage of Brady's docile nature showed him who the older cousin was.

Brady was a little less passive this time and decided Leo was due for a little payback.

After eating Leo's head (I told you he liked hair), he hit him where it really hurt.  Steal the pacifier, suffer the consequences. 

Actually, the cousins got along great.  Leo and Emma had fun running around chasing each other.  Emma, who is refreshingly honest, didn't have much use for Brady.  Leo paid him a little more attention. 

The day after Christmas, we decided to go ice skating.  When I asked Eric if he was any good at ice skating, his response was, "I'm an athlete."

Athleticism at its finest

I really wish we had video evidence, because this picture doesn't do him justice.  Eric's legs were sore afterwards from skating running on ice and my stomach was sore from laughing. 

Luckily for Eric, my dad is also very "athletic" so he had someone to hug the guardrail with. 

A post wouldn't not be complete without discussions of Brady's bathroom habits.  Lucky for you, no visuals will be included.  Brady and I got very familiar with airport changing stations on the way out to Iowa.  By the time we arrived in Des Moines, he had nothing left and it took him a few days to reload.  Before we were headed out to the airport on Monday evening, he relieved himself.  Then, we're on the airplane heading out...seat belts on, electronic devices off, poor Brady got as red as Rudolph's nose.  Eric made the quick decision to take Brady back and change him in the spacious airplane bathroom, risking ridicule from other patients as he threatened to delay take-off time.  Crisis averted.  We landed about an hour later in Chicago and I smelled something a little foul.  It was very difficult to determine if Brady had gone again, because the passenger in front of us smelled worse than Brady's butt on his worst day.  They keep implementing these fancy screening measures and I don't think it would be too much to suggest that passengers should have to pass a smell test to pass through security.  Anyway, we had to sit on the runway in Chicago for almost 45 minutes.  Brady was sleeping peacefully and I knew there would be no going back if we decided to change him again.  So, lucky mom, I got to sit on the runway with a smelly baby on my lap and smelly passenger in front of me.

Stinky people aside, the trip to Iowa was wonderful.  Last year on Christmas, we found out Brady was going to be a boy.  This year, we got to spend Christmas with that boy, which is the best gift I could have asked for.

Letters to Brady: 7 months

Dear Brady,

2011 is coming to a close but there are still lots of things to be done before we ring in the New Year.  First off, your first trip to Iowa!  Fair warning...it's cold.  Your dad bought you some new Timberlands so you could tramp around outside (yes, I realize you're not even crawling yet...don't tell you dad).  Unfortunately, the forecast is not calling for anything more than flurries so we may have to hold off on introducing you to snow.  Also on the agenda...Christmas!  You'll be spending your first one with a full house.  2 grandparents, 2 aunts, 2 uncles, 2 cousins, 2 parents, and 2 dogs.  You'll get a nice break from just seeing my boring face all day.

I feel like we've gotten to know each other pretty well these last seven months.  I told your dad the other day that I really like you.  He looked at me like I was dumb...like, of course you do, he's your son.  Did you think you wouldn't?  The truth is, I knew I'd love you and I thought I'd probably like you...but I've seen enough parent/child interactions to know that the latter is not necessarily a given.  But I like you, and I like you a lot.  I think even if you weren't my son, we'd be friends.

Here are a few things I like about you.  This list is not exhaustive, but you should get the drift.  I like how you sneeze when you go outside.  I like the bad face you make whenever you take the first bite of something, even if it's something you like.  I like how you eat your feet.  I like how you suck your thumb when you're sleepy.  I like how you sleep with your butt in the air.  I like when you sleep on my chest.  I like the sounds you make when you sleep.  I like how you can sleep anywhere.  I like how you smile at strangers.  I like how you'll let anyone hold you.  I like how you travel well.  I like your big blue eyes.  I like your two front teeth (but don't like how you choose to use them).  I like how you smell after a bath.  I like your babble.  I like your laugh.  I like when you can't decide to laugh or cry.  I like your gummy smile.  I even like your sad face (and apologize when dad and I laugh at it).

Know that I'll always love you and if you keep it up, I'll keep on liking you too.

Love,
Mom

What's so funny?

I'm not a particularly funny person.  I'll make a good joke every so often and although I frequently crack myself up, I do not have any mistaken notions that I'll end up as the next Chelsea Handler.  Do me a favor though, and please do not tell this to Brady.  The boy will laugh at my faces, noises and jokes all day long.

However, as you can see in the video below, Brady doesn't seem too discriminatory when it comes to things that tickle his funny bone.  This happened tonight when I was feeding him.  I wasn't making any faces, wasn't even doing the favorite "airplane in the mouth" routine, but Brady just thought life was hysterical.

Like many things, he seems to take this trait from his dad.  If you know Eric, you know he's a laugher and it doesn't take much to get him going. 

Although, strangely, he never seems to laugh at my jokes.  I don't care.  Brady thinks I'm funny and I'll take that over a Comedy Central contract any day.

Stray hairs, stray hands, and a blue Santa

My husband informed me last night that I was slacking on my blog.  It sort of reminds me of how he keeps insisting that we do a Christmas card, but when determining who will order the cards, address the cards, lick the stamps, etc...a certain someone seems to fade into the background.  I asked if he'd like to be a guest columnist since he had a problem with my lack of posts, but needless to say, this fingers didn't find the keyboard.  But he is right, of course, and I apologize for the absence.  Part of it is lack of material, part of it lack of time, and most of it due to the fact that my free time has been spent reading "The Girl Who Played With Fire."  I'm done with it, but tt's the 2nd of the trilogy, so after I check the last one out at the library, you might not be hearing from me for a while.

Anyway, nothing groundbreaking to report in the Hoots household.  The day started out rough, got rougher, and ended well.  Brady has been doing better with sleeping...on a good night waking up once around 11 and another time around 3.  This I can handle.  Last night, he woke up at 10, 12:30, 3, and 5:15.  I have no idea what makes a child sleep well(this is relative in our house) one night and terribly the next, but if you know, please let me in on the secret.  And if you know how to make him sleep, I'll pay you for the secret.

I left Brady with a babysitter this afternoon.  I'm writing one article each month for the Tar Heel Monthly and my latest series of articles have consisted of me going and participating in various sports at Carolina.  I've done the Art of the Kill (volleyball), the Art of the Bout (fencing), and my latest assignment is on basketball, and what makes a Division player different from someone like say, me.  I was supposed to practice with the team today and when I showed up, there was apparently a bit of a miscommunication between the head coach and her assistant who I set this up with as to what I would be doing.  Coach Hatchell thought I was only going to be watching practice and not participating.  This posed a problem, because apparently I'd need to be "cleared" in order to make this happen which would consist of a physical with their team doctor.  Needless to say, when dealing with babysitters and deadlines and Christmas break, this wasn't what I wanted to hear this afternoon.  So, while I didn't enjoy wasting a babysitter and my afternoon, my body was thankful for sparing it, because it is certainly not in basketball shape.

We had our Rams Club Christmas Family Party tonight...they still invite me to this since I'm still doing some part time work with them.  Blue Santa made his annual appearance.  Since we haven't subjected Brady to mall Santa yet, so we took the photo opportunity.

With a slight adjustment, it could be real Santa. 

Guess we don't need a mall visit.

We took a family photo with Santa as well.



There is a few things that will ensure that this become a family picture favorite of mine 1) There is a stray hand in the picture that is approaching dangerous territory.  This is funny to me because although there were lots of kiddos running around, I don't remember anyone nearing our picture and I have no idea who's hand that belongs to.  You'd think that little hand would be reaching for Santa rather than Eric, but apparently some unknown child prefers Eric.  2) Brady is trying to eat Brady's beard.  This is fairly standard.  Brady is obsessed with hair...usually its hair on the head (mine specifically), but he doesn't discriminate and it appears he will accept facial hair as well.  Brady loves to suck his thumb and when he does this, it is usually a pretty good indicator that it's nap time.  Lately, the thumb on its own hasn't been tasting as good as the thumb with my hair mixed in.  He goes after it with impressive determination.  If it wasn't so annoying, it would be pretty funny.  I'll admit, there has been an occasion or two when I want him to be quiet, so I'll give in and let my hair be sucked.  Five gold stars for this mom for reinforcing good habits.

And speaking of hair, I had always heard that your hair is at its thickest when you're pregnant.  What nobody told me, was that after you have the baby, your hair falls out.  The fact that this happens naturally coupled with the fact that I have a child who loves to pull my hair results in fistfuls of hair and lots more vacuuming in the Hoots household.  While I'll never understand (and hopefully never wear) mom jeans, I do understand mom hair and why people chop it off after having kids.  Eric is not too keen on that prospect...and I have been wanting him to keep our room a little cleaner lately.   Bargaining tool?

Don't judge me.

Same kid, new tricks

When he's not helping mom steal pictures or jetsetting around the country, Brady is enjoying life from a new found seated position.  There are pianos to play and hoops to shoot (or eat, in Brady's case).

While this can hardly be classified as crawling (except in the army), Brady has learned to scoot...if there is an object that intrigues him enough. 

Two points from perfect

Brady and I had an exciting Saturday followed by a relaxing Sunday.  Saturday, we flew out of Chapel Hill Airport at 8 am bound for Kentucky to watch the Tar Heels play.  Eric and I were discussing the other day about how the biggest luxury in life is to own your own plane.  We're a few dollars short of that goal, but we will certainly settle for the second best thing...knowing someone who owns one. 

Hey mom, can we get one of these for Christmas?

The trip was a breeze.  Conveniently, there is a hotel connected to Rupp Arena, so we arrived and went up to Eric's room.  We got to say hello to him before he left for the game and Brady (and myself) took a nap.  Brady and I walked to the arena around 11:30, and as I handed the ticket-taker my ticket, she looked at Brady and asked me where his ticket was.  I was waiting for a "haha, just kidding" to follow, but she was very serious (as serious as an old lady in a blue Santa hat could be).  I thought almost every arena in America had an under 2 free rule, but apparently, not so in Lexington.

Hmm, that's a problem.  #1 Kentucky vs. #5 UNC, not exactly a ticket you can go buy at the ticket window.  Is Brady big enough to fit in my diaper bag?  Can I smuggle him in in my coat?   

Luckily, I went to player-guest will call and one of the parents found out they couldn't come last minute.  So it turns out, I didn't have to leave him alone in the hotel room.

The game was awesome, as was the atmosphere.  Brady seemed to enjoy all the lights and action, although I'm glad we had some earplugs for him, because the place was loud.  We made it back to Chapel Hill before dinnertime, and we were only two points away from making it a perfect trip.

Guilt-free Friday

I took my friend Amy's advice and called Walgreens to settle up on my bill.  Like she predicted, the young man who answered the phone didn't seem too keen on taking my money.  Here's how our convo went:

Me: Hi, I came in the store the other day to pick up pictures and I wasn't charged for them.  Can you take my credit card over the phone?

Him: It was just 5 or 6 prints, right?

Me: Um, no, actually it was more than that.

Him:  Well, you had to wait, right?

Me:  Um, well, I guess I did have to wait a bit (I waited at all 3 Walgreen's though, so this seemed to be standard practice).

Him:  Yeah, that's why we didn't charge you for them.

Hmm, I don't know if he had me confused with someone or was just giving me an out.  Either way, I'm $20 richer and can now sleep better at night.

Well, I could if it weren't for a certain baby who thinks he runs things around here.

Full frames and a guilty conscience

Ok, I have a moral dilemma but I must first give you the background story.

For many weeks now, I've been meaning to get pictures printed for a few frames and a photo album.  I hung up a frame I bought in our bathroom about 2 months ago.  Which means it has been pictureless for about 2 months.  Shameful, I know.  So yesterday, I spent Brady's nap putting a bunch of pictures in my shopping cart.  I went through all the steps and even put in my credit card number so when I picked the pictures up from Walgreens, I wouldn't have to pay in the store.  I show up at Walgreens a few hours later and much to my disappointment, they didn't have my order.  I realized I didn't get a confirmation email, which probably means I was one step short in confirming my order.

I got back to my house, opened my computer, and realized I had closed out my browser.  I went back on the site and of course, empty cart.  So last night, I went through the process once again.  We're talking over 100 pictures that I got printed, and I won't go into details about why it took more time than simply clicking on the pictures I wanted printed, but just take my word for it...it took some time.  I knew today I would be driving past a different Walgreens, so I imputed a different store as my pick up location.

Or so I thought.

I walked into Walgreens #2 today and yet again, no pictures.  With the help of the man behind the counter, I figured out that the pictures were at a different location...in my haste, I clicked the wrong Walgreens.  Tricky because its on the same street, but not very close/convenient.  So I drug Brady out of the Walgreens #2 and on to Walgreens #3. (On a positive note, if you need to know where a Walgreens is, give me a call).

Third time was a charm!  My pictures were there and the guy handed them to me and suggested I look through them to make sure they were the right ones.  As he walked away, I opened the package, confirmed that I wasn't walking out with someone else's pictures, and gave the guy a wave and said "thank you" as I exited the store.

So I loaded Brady up in the car, dropped all the pictures in the parking lot (note to self: close envelope), and was just glad to finally have my pictures in hand.  So what was the problem?

I got home and realized the pictures were not paid for.  I had tried to pay for the first set of pictures online, but with my second order, I chose the "pay in store" option.  These pictures were $20, so it is a decent amount of money to be "stealing."  However, I don't feel like it is exactly my fault, as the guy made no moves to charge me for these pictures.  Who has the burden in this situation?  If I had walked out holding $20 worth of merchandise, I would certainly feel obligated to go back and pay.  But I guess I was still essentially doing that?  Did I mention this is not a convenient location that I will be breezing past any time soon.

Ok, Internet, please be my moral compass.  What do I do?

Excuse me sir, will you hold my child?

Last week, I was pretty sick.  The last time I threw up was in high school, when I got food poisoning a the Iowa State Fair.  So I was a little out of practice.  If there is something good about what I experienced, it was that at the peak of my illness, I was in comfort of my own bathroom, and thankfully, Brady was sleeping soundly.  Knowing I was traveling in a few days, it got me thinking of what I would do if something like that hit me in an airport (or plane), traveling with a child.  Ask a nice looking person to watch my child?  Bring him into the 3 foot lavatory?

Eric and I watched the movie "Bridesmaids" last night.  In it, one of the characters experienced the dilemma of being sick at a most inopportune time.  No baby was involved, but an expensive wedding dress was.  If you've seen the scene, it was hard not to feel her pain.

Speaking of pain and being sick in airports, this story I read today may take the cake.  A woman traveling over the holidays gave birth in an airport bathroom.  In goes the turkey, out goes the baby.

Thankfully, I have no exciting stories to report in our Thanksgiving travels.  Brady and I flew to St. Louis to visit my grandparents and parents.  Unfortunatley, my grandfather got the flu so we weren't able to see him.  Otherwise, it was a great trip.  My grandma was thrilled (and suprised) that Brady didn't cry when she held him.  I didn't want to break it to her that he doesn't cry when anyone holds him.

Eric came from his Thanksgiving trip to Las Vegas with $80 more than he left with (and a Tar Heel loss).  Unfortunately, he needed to win about $1,100 more to cover our next trip....Iowa for Christmas ain't cheap!

Thanksgiving feast

In the spirit of the Thanksgiving holiday, I thought I would share Brady's latest feasts.  We started him on solids last weekend, and as you can see below, our first attempt was not a raging success.

Ok, Brady, we get it, rice cereal is out.  Moving on...

Ahh...much better!  Pears win!  Pears apparently help keep you regular and since my man just broke a 10 day streak, I thought they would be a wise choise. 

Pardon the pink spoon, but at least in that set of pictures I have a bib on him.  We have 50 bibs and the first time my child eats I did not deem it necessary to put one on him.

Wishing you delicious feasts this Thanksgiving weekend!  Stay away from the rice cereal!

Letters to Brady: 6 months

Dear Brady,

Happy half-year birthday!  Actually, it was yesterday, but mom was sick and it took all I had just to get up to change you...a photo shoot and blogging session were not on the agenda.  I spent Sunday night hugging the toilet, and yesterday was spent in the bed.  I didn't have my best parenting day, as I left the bed only to change your diaper and put you in the Jumparoo.  Like always, you made it as easy as possible on me and were your typical low-maintenance self.  While you were playing in the bed, I gave you the rubber bulb syringe to play with (ok, I realize syringe, babies and play shouldn't typically be used in the same sentance) and I watched as you examined it for nearly 15 minutes.  Although you hate it when its used for its intended purpose (extracting snot from your nose), you were so very fascinated by it.  Of course, like most things, you put every part of it in your mouth.  On a day that I could do little more than simply lie there, it gave me a chance to really watch you.  It is fun to see you discover all the fun and exciting things the world has to offer...like snot suckers.

Your dad is good to us, or certainly tries to be.  When I was sick on Sunday night, he ran to the store and bought some Pepto Bismol for me.  After he got home, we read the label and it said when breastfeeding, consult a physician.  So I consulted the Internet and turns out Pepto isn't so good.  Last night, you weren't feeling so good last yourself and you were running a fever.  You had your 6 month shots yesterday, so dad ran out to get some fever reducer medicine at about 11:30.  When he got home and took it out of the package, we realized under dosage, it said, "consult a physician."  Of course, you haven't been sick before so this is new territory.  Sorry Brady, rookie parents.

When your dad and I look at your, we often shake our heads.  It's hard to grasp that we made something as cool as you.  You are just such a happy baby and the days of your tummy troubles and screaming seem like a lifetime ago.  I am convinced that if all the world's leaders could sit down around a table and listen to a baby's laughter, they could figure out a way to solve the world's conflicts.  There is nothing as pure as your laughter and nothing makes me happier than hearing it. 

Nobody can make you laugh like your dad can.  He is loud, obnoxious, and rough...qualities that you love.  The other day your dad came home from work and he hollered to you as soon as he came in the door.  I watched your eyes light up, and it was special moment to see you not only recognize, but get excited at the sound of your dad.  The only thing you might adore more than your daddy is your thumb.  You suck that thing with a vigor that is truly impressive.  It is so very adorable and while we may pay for this habit down the line (literally, with orthodontic bills), for now I am glad you found something to soothe yourself.

This week you will celebrate your first Thanksgiving and I can't think of another year when I had so much to be thankful for.  Thank you for bringing such joy to our lives.

We love you.

Love,
Mom

Sharing is caring

Our friends, Shelley and Jonathan, have a cute little boy, Winston, who was born a few weeks after Brady.  Below is a picture of their first play date.

 
Yeah, not a lot of playing going on.  Clearly, Winston was very impressed with Brady.  The latest play date today was a bit more engaging.

 

 Ok moms, we're here.  What do we do now?

  You want us to do a stare-off?  Ok, we can do that.

Ha, forget that.  Let's play.

 Oh, Winston, I have plenty of toys here to share.  You really didn't need to bring your own book over.

Ok, well since it's already here, you mind if I take a stab at it?  Oh, I'm sorry, you were playing with it?  Did you not get the memo that this was my house?

We'll have to work on our sharing this week.

On a boat without a baby

We're back!  It's been a long several days and feels good to be home.  Our adventure started Wednesday.  We woke up Brady early (he needed a taste of his own medicine) and left the house at 5:45 am to drive to Winston-Salem to meet Eric's parents to drop off Brady and my car.  It was much easier to leave my car.

We flew to San Diego that afternoon and we went straight from the plane to the aircraft carrier, where we got a tour of the ship.  The whole deal would have only could have only been made cooler if we landed our plane on the ship.

 

We stayed at the Hotel Del Coronado, a beautiful place right on the beach.  I met up with an old college teammate that night and it was fun catching up with her and hearing about her job.  She works for the Secret Service and is the first female counter sniper ever.  She snipes the snipers.  She told me she could hit a softball from 1,000 feet.  Color me impressed.  Luckily, we (or the President) didn't need her services on Friday during the game on the Aircraft Carrier (or at least I don't think so).  Note to self: don't get on Kim's bad side.

I experienced some firsts while traveling. Watch a game on a ship...check.  Hear the President speak...check.  Pump in a plane bathroom...check.  Pump in a port-a-potty...check.

After the game Friday night, we hopped on a plane to Asheville, since the team had a game on Sunday.  We landed around 4 am and after a long nap, I woke up ready for Eric's parents to drop Brady off.  As cool as the ship, the President and everything else about the trip was, they just couldn't compete with the feeling of seeing Brady after three days away.  I missed him.

Brady is such a good baby that he didn't want to make his grandparents change a dirty diaper.  So he held it in for three days.  I was in for a treat with that first diaper.  Keep in mind, when I handed Brady off, he hadn't gone in a few days.  Notice a trend in my child?  I won't give details, but lets just say if the amount of poop that came out of him was indicative of how much he missed his mom, he really loves me.

We had a bit of a rough night at the hotel.  The second time he woke up was around 2:30.  After I fed him, I went to change his diaper.  The good news about having Brady sleep with us in the hotel is that I can do everything at one place.  He's got the dinner table, bathroom, and bed all in one place.  While I was changing the diaper in our dark room on the bed, I noted to myself that his diaper wasn't as full as it usually was at that time.  As soon that thought crossed my mind, I felt the spray of some warm liquid.  I would normally chalk this up to plain bad luck, but Brady hasn't peed with his diaper off (with the exception of the bathtub) in months.  Why break that streak somewhere boring like a lighted changing table where mom has the opportunity manage the situation and divert the fountain?  Instead, he chose a time where he would wet me, himself, and the sheets we were sleeping on....another "thank you" to mom for leaving him for three days.  By the time I got us changed and dry, here were the levels of alertness in our hotel room:  Brady - wide awake, Amy - half asleep, Eric - unconscious.  Things went downhill from there.

Ahh, but I love that kid and we had a great time during the (scheduled) awake times of the day.  He went to his first of what is sure to be many Carolina basketball games last night and he seemed to enjoy the Heel victory.  We had a 3 1/2 hour drive back to Durham after the game and Brady snoozed the whole way.  And as a true thank you to his mom for getting him back in his own crib, Brady only woke up only once at 2:30 and slept in until 7!

My part-time work at the Rams Club has involved planning the trip to San Diego, so although I enjoyed my time away, it was definitely a working trip.  The last few weeks have been a bit stressful and very busy and to have my phone not ring today was amazing.  I've enjoyed working from home, but I savored this Monday, having no responsibilities, beyond those of a mom.  And on this beautiful fall day, I even enjoyed my afternoon run.

Thanks....and no thanks.

It is November and in the spirit of the month, I'd thought I'd tell you about a few things I'm thankful, and not so thankful for.

No thanks...to the trick-or-treaters who saw the bowl of candy on the front porch and decided it would be ok to empty it into their bags.  I hope you get a stomachache (kidding...sort of).  Had I not been cleaning up Brady who soiled his giraffe costume, this wouldn't have been an issue.  So no thanks to Brady, too.

No thanks...to the clothing manufacturers who make it so hard to figure out how to put your clothes on correctly.  And thanks to the chancellor's wife who, after attempting to tuck in my tag when we showed up to their house for dinner, directed to me to the bathroom so I could put my shirt on right-side-out (after laughing at with me first)

Thanks...to the various travelers and airport workers who helped make my first solo plane trip with Brady successful.

No thanks...to airlines for charging an arm and a leg to check a bag.  I refused to check a bag which means I hauled around 1) a baby 2) a stroller 3) a car seat 4) a roller bag 5) a diaper bag.

No thanks...Washington Dulles International Airport.  Here's how my time with you went.  Exit the plane onto the runway.  Pick up items I have checked plane side (see 2,3,4 above) and get on to a bus.  Get off the bus with said items...take a elevator up to the terminal.  Look for my gate in terminal.  Find arrow directing towards gate and realize it is pointing outside.  Look at the stairs and ask gate attendant where I find the elevator down to the ground.  Have attendant basically tell me it doesn't exist (funny, I just took one a few minutes ago).  Sigh.  Take multiple trips to drag bags/stroller/baby down the stairs and on to another bus.  Be the last person to board the bus.  Ask the bus driver if I can stand.  Get denied and told to leave all my stuff and find the lone seat on the back of the bus.  Hope nobody on the bus is late for their flight.  Arrive at gate.  See bus driver haul all my stuff, including diaper bag off bus and up the stairs in one trip.  Decide either he is the nicest man ever, or there goes my wallet and all my clothes.  Meet nice bus driver at the top of stairs and hear about his 5 kids.  Proceed to Albany.

Thanks...to Brady for being such a great traveler and making the trip a good one.  My grandmother passed away, and while funerals are never fun, it was great to see my family, some of which I hadn't seen in a very long time.  It's a good thing we left when we did, though, Brady started getting a big head after hearing from everyone how good of a baby he is.

Thanks...for boys!  My brother, Eric and his wife, Amy (yes, confusing, I know) just found out they are having another baby boy.  Emma is definitely outnumbered!

Much to be thankful for this month!

Giraffe vs. Pumpkin

Who will win??

 The long neck beast first targets the eyes.

Then heads for the head

And finally sets his sights on the the life source...the stem of the pumpkin.

Despite the courageous battle fought, the mighty pumpkin prevails and the giraffe falls over in exhaustion.



Happy Halloween!

Catch

I am not sure which is funnier...Brady's face after the ball hits him, or his laughter that follows.

Farts, fountains, and deep thoughts while running

When I walked out the door to go on a run this evening, I was finishing up a phone call and because of that, I forgot my ipod.  No music meant I was forced to just think...scary, I know.  I was in particularly good spirits on my run today, so it was a good time to be alone with my thoughts.  First of all, did you notice how "good spirits" and "running" were used in the same sentence?  That's right, I no longer hate running...as much.  This gorgeous weather we've been having has forced me out of the house and I've been jogging frequently.

Anyway, on my run today I was feeling particularly grateful for everything that has been going on in my life.  I have a great husband, great family, great friends, two jobs that I enjoy and can do while staying at home with my happy baby, a car with butt warmers (this is about to be important), and a house big enough to fit our family of four (me, Brady, Eric, and Eric's stuff).   Lately, just when I feel like life is as good as it gets, it gets a little better.  Now, while I've led a fairly privleged life, I have experienced a few bumps along the way, and at those times, hearing someone gush about how good their life is was about as fun as as a four-piece puzzle.  So...feel free to close your browser if that is where you are in your life right now.  It is certainly easier to rejoice in other people's good fortune when you yourself are feeling blessed.

I'll often pass strangers who see Brady and say something to the effect of, "Enjoy this, it is the best time in your life."  Although I think they are probably right, I also feel a twinge of sadness.  It's like when you were a kid on summer vacation and August rolled around and you knew school was right around the corner.  You should still be enjoying summer, but was a bit tarnished because you knew school started in a few weeks and how you could enjoy yourself with visions of books and homework looming over you?  Ok, this is probably a terrible analogy and I do have hope that my 30's will be as good or better than my 20's, but I sometimes hold on to the notion that my life will "peak" without me knowing it and I'll look back and wonder why I ever complained about a messy house or a crying baby.

So I've really tried to enjoy each day.  Yesterday, I was sitting by the window with Brady, enjoying the cool breeze.  I was holding him and we were cheek to cheek...he was pefectly still and was staring intently at some unknown object out the window.  It was a simple moment but a nice one, and at almost the exactly instant I made a mental note to remember and appreciate the moment, Brady let out a fart. He has a way of doing that...making a perfect moment better.

So back to our run. Ok, my run, Brady didn't contribute much except dead weight.  I made a break-thru today and ran the whole four-mile loop.  Usually, about 5 minutes of walking is involved.  The key was reversing my loop.  The monster hill didn't hit me until the last 5 minutes of my run (the hills start before mile 3 the direction I usually run) and at that point, I just wanted to be able to say I ran the whole thing so I pushed myself and ran the hill.  Although ask one of the cars witnessing me push the stoller up this hill and "running" might not be their first verb choice.  Anyway, we got home and it was bathtime for Brady.  We moved the bath from the kitchen sink to the bathtub, since Brady has begun to make a mess with his splashing.  As it sometimes does, the warmth caused a reaction when Brady's butt hit the water and he started whizzing in the tub.  He peed, stopped, then started again.  Then stopped again, and started again.  There were at least three pee breaks and this stopping and starting struck me funny.  I started laughing, which caused Brady to laugh at me laughing.  If there is anything funnier than a laughing baby, its a baby laughing while he's peeing in the tub while seemingly having no clue what's going on.  Did I mention Brady has a way of making perfect moments better?

Supersonic ears

Several weeks back, there was a big storm with thunder, lightning and the works.  In the morning, Eric asked if I had heard the storm during the night.  I hadn't.  I asked if he had heard the baby during the night.  He hadn't. 

While the first couple months I often suspected Eric was pretending to sleep when Brady woke up, this article reveals that this may not be the case.  A line I found interesting, "Car alarms, howling wind and a buzzing fly are the prime noises guaranteed to disturb a man's sleep."  A crying baby didn't even make the top ten.  Of course, a baby's sobs topped the list for women.

I've learned that it is nearly impossible for me to nap if I can hear Brady anywhere in the house.  On Saturday, we had a 5am wake up from Brady, and in the late afternoon, Eric was playing with Brady as I laid down on the couch.  He took him upstairs to our bedroom and I took about a 20 minute nap.  What woke me was not the football game that was blaring on the TV (Eric and I don't always agree on the appropriate volume), but the peeps I heard coming from all the way upstairs.  I seriously have no idea how I could even hear Brady's whines over the television let alone hear them loud enough to stir me from slumber.  I suppose it is the blessing and the curse of motherhood.  I can think of some superpowers I would rather have, but I didn't get a choice in the matter.

So since it's biological, I guess I can't fault Eric for never rarely waking up when Brady wakes.   I stopped turning the monitor on at night because even down the hall, I hear Brady when he wakes, even though he really doesn't make much noise.  The other morning, it was about 6:30 and I heard Brady cooing in his crib.  I jabbed Eric and told him, "Your son is awake."  He turned his head and said to the invisible baby in our bed, "Hey buddy."  I had to clarify and tell him that his son was awake in his bed.  Eric was wise enough to read between the lines as he got out of bed to go fetch his son.

While I no longer question if Eric wakes at night, I do find it suspect that every time I come back to bed, what used to be 50% mine, is now more like 25% with a stray leg often impeding my space.  And since Eric is "sleeping," a gentle nudge rarely gets me the results I am looking for.  So if you see Eric walking around with some bruises, suggest he get his hearing checked.

Super Dave

Below is an article published in this week's edition of Tar Heels Today.  It is a personal story, so I thought I'd share.

It was around 8 am on May 21^st when she walked into my hospital room.  Her name was Carolyn and she was a welcomed face.  It was the day of my son’s birth, but after several hours of labor with several more to come, I was not ready to celebrate.  Shift change brought on a new crew and the nurse Carolyn would guide me through an intense labor and ultimately, a joyful birth.  She was a veteran and had been in the same hospital for almost 30 years. 

Much credit (and money) is given to doctors who deliver babies, but ask a woman who has given birth and she will tell you that it is the nurses who make the difference.  Leading a woman through a drug-free birth is no walk in the park, but Carolyn did it with calmness, compassion, and a smile on her face.

Carolyn holds a special place in our hearts.  So does her husband, Dave Harder.

Dave Harder passed away on October 7, 2011.  Known affectionately as “Super Dave,” he was the bus driver for the men’s basketball team.  Wherever the team went, Dave was there.  Like his wife, he was a veteran, and loyally served the Tar Heels for the past 25 years.

Anyone who knew Dave knew he was someone special.  The team may be flying, but Dave would drive.  He’d meet the team in the city in which they were playing. By the time he picked up the Heels, he had already checked into the hotel and picked up the keys for the team, one less thing for them to worry about.  Dave had already scoped out the best routes, resolved not to let any unknown detour take him by surprise.  Dave would be waiting on the runway with a full tank of gas and a welcoming smile.

My husband rode with Dave for over a decade, and when I asked him what made Dave special, I wasn’t sure he’d stop talking.  Dave would make a special trip before each game to transport Woody, Jones, and Eric to the arena so they didn’t have to take a taxi.  He always knew the weather.  He’d pick up the band equipment before the NCAA tournament so Jeff Fuchs and his crew would not have to lug it on to the plane.  He could reverse in to the Smith Center tunnel like he was driving a Honda Accord.

Dave Harder was a blessing for men’s basketball team, but I fear he will also be a curse. 

See, someone else must take his place, but who can measure up to Dave?  How is the next guy supposed to know that he should leave the game early to go pick up the post-game food for the team?  How is he to know he should keep a cold Sprite Zero in his personal cooler to hand Coach Williams as he boards the bus?

Dave was one of our earliest visitors in the hospital, dropping by the day after Brady was born to deliver a card and well wishes.  It was a thoughtful gesture, but certainly not a surprising one, made by a thoughtful man.

A nurse and a bus driver.  It’s fitting, really, that Carolyn and Dave Harder united.  Two noble professions, but professions held by people who often fade into the background and do not seek or receive the glory.

The 2011-2012 men’s basketball season is shaping up to be an exciting one.  On November 11, the journey will begin in San Diego.  I, for one, am excited for the ride, but it won’t be quite the same, now that Dave’s not driving.

Letters to Brady: 5 months

Dear Brady,

Fall is in the air.  That means basketball season is here!  Yesterday, your dad was helping you shoot a basketball on the mini goal in our family room (about 6 inches high).  You scored and your dad got so excited that he yelled in jubilation.  The sudden scream caught you by suprise and you started crying.  One thing you have to learn about your dad is that he is easily excitable, especially when it comes to basketball.  Loud noises in our house come suddenly and often, so you would be smart to prepare.  Sometimes mom wants to cry, too.

Basketball season also means less time with your dad and more time with your mom.  I feel so lucky to get to hang out with you each and every day.  I feel a closeness to you that sometimes seems bizarre considering you're only 5 months old and can't even talk.  I look forward to your increased independence as you grow older, but a part of me fears it.  I am comforted to know that God-willing, you won't be my last child so I will be able to experience these things again one day.  I can empathize with those moms who are raising their last child and trying to hang on to their last child's firsts.  Or who knows, maybe with lots of kids running around, you don't have time to become nostalgic.

I am not a morning person, but with a baby, you often don't get a choice.  My favorite times are with you in the morning.  It's the time our whole family gets to be together.  Your dad gets up and brings you into the bed, usually around 6:30.  You hang out with us for about an hour and then you get sleepy again.  Actually, this is my favorite time.  I put you on my chest and we go back to sleep for 30 minutes or so.  This ends much too quickly for my liking, but you're the boss.

Bath time is another favorite.  It seems like just a week ago we were trying to teach you to splash your hands and feet.  Now with all your splashing, it seems as though the bath is only half as full by the time you're finished.

Your dad and I often ask ourselves how we got so lucky.  People often mention how happy you always seem to be and some ask if you ever cry.  Of course, these people aren't around you at bedtime or nap time.  You seem to have developed a bit of a stubborn streak.  No matter how tired you are, sometimes you just don't want to give in to sleep.  I'm not sure where you get your stubbornness...must be from your father.

Only 211 months until you are 18...then maybe mom will stop with these silly letters.  Until then, you're stuck with them...and me.

I love you.

Love,
Mom

Brady is back!

The old Brady that is.  Here I go bragging about Brady's awesome sleep habits and it doesn't take a genius to guess what happens the next four nights.  Serves me right.

It's really not that bad.  He has been waking up twice, usually around midnight and 4, then up and ready to go at 6:30!  But once you've tasted the forbidden fruit, its a little bit of a bummer going back.  The bigger bummer is bedtime.  Each night I have to brace myself for the pre-bedtime wailing.  I learned that if you expect it, the nights when he goes down easy are a pleasant surprise.  He used to go down pretty easy at night, but an angry streak has come out lately.  It's the same streak that comes out before nap time, usually his afternoon nap.

Yesterday at 3 pm I texted Eric something to the effect of "your son is about to drive me insane."  He was not pleased about the prospect of sleep, but apparently also unhappy about being awake.  This text was sent about 5 minutes before I smelled something suspect coming from Brady's diaper.  The kid had not pooped in over a week (!) so I knew it would probably be disastrous when it did occur.  Fortunately, everything stayed in the diaper.  I was feeling especially relieved when he started pooping again right after I slipped a new diaper under him.  Phew, I really dodged the bullet.  As I was congratulating myself on my deftness, I waited and let him do his business again.  Then I moved on to diaper #3.  Unfortunately, I didn't wait long enough to let him finish...I underestimated his pooping abilities (I don't know why...did I mention this child hadn't gone in a week) and wasn't quite fast enough.

The good news is that despite the last hour of fussing, Brady was now in good spirits.  Covered in poop (more on his mom than on him), but happy nonetheless.

Moving on to happier subjects, I have not taken very many pictures lately, so I made up for it in his latest photo shoot.  This is what I call, "Same Position, Different Face."

One common element is drool.

We have a sleeper

It's October 15th and that means basketball season has officially begun.  This means Eric will get home later, frequently after Brady's bedtime.  This has already begun and when Eric comes home after Brady has gone to bed, he usually wants to play with his little buddy.  As most educated adults know, waking babies is not a smart decision.  Below is a picture I snapped on my phone of our video monitor a few nights ago. 

That ghostly figure standing over the crib is Eric.  He's sending Brady wake-up vibes.  He knows I'm watching, which is probably the only thing preventing him from picking the child up.

But on to more important things...it is official, we have a sleeper!

Wednesday night was a big night in the Hoots household.  With no fair warning, Brady decided suddenly it was time to start sleeping through the night.  When morning rolled around, I had Eric go check Brady's breathing and when it was confirmed that our child was still alive, I celebrated quickly but remembered that flukes do happen.

Thankfully, night #2 showed equal success. 

While Brady's body apparently had no trouble transitioning from 2-4 nighttime feedings to zero in the span of one night, my own body wasn't so fortunate.  Let's just say I woke up "full".  Brady may have slept through the night, but I had to get up at 5:30 to go pump.  I pumped 8 ounces...and that was just on the right side.  I mean, that's a tall glass of milk.  I'm literally googling "baby sleeping through night, engorgement" on the iPad and not paying attention to what I am doing as my leg starts getting wet because the 6 ounce bottle began to overflow.  The good news is my google search revealed that my body would adjust eventually.  In the meantime, I am getting a good freezer supply of milk.  Since I will be going to San Diego for the Aircraft Carrier game on 11.11.11 sans Brady, this will come in handy.

Next problem to tackle...napping in a crib.  For now, I will enjoy this success.

Running man

I'm not sure I'm ready for the day when those little legs will actually take him somewhere.

Room to grow

I was in the ticket office today and the guys thought it would be funny if Brady put on Eric Montross' shoes.  It was.


 I think they are a size 19 (edited: they are a size 20).  These also could be used as Brady's crib.

Brady Talk: Picking up the slack

So many big thoughts in this little head

Hellooo people!  Long time no talk.  My mom has been shirking on her blogging duties due to a very busy week of working and playing with me, so I am trying to pick up the slack.  She is on a plane as we speak, heading back from Kansas City, very thankful to be on a flight that is on time.  She scheduled a painful 7 am flight just so she could get back to see me sooner.  I have missed her, but not nearly as much as she missed me.  Her friend Erin got married this weekend.  I met Erin a few months ago when she came to visit me and I am a little disappointed she is now officially off the market.  I feel like she never really gave me a chance…I was really immature back when I met her in July.  Erin was a stunning bride, according to the pictures I saw, and that Ryan is one lucky guy.  I was really bummed that dad and I couldn’t make it to the wedding, but dad had to work, and I had fun hanging out with my grandparents for a few days.  Mom is coming home at 12:30 and dad is leaving at noon to go out of town until Tuesday.  That is what you call tag-team parenting.



The blushing bride



I’ve been pretty busy these days doing lots of awesome things like rolling over, laughing, and sucking my thumb.  I’ve also started to sleep a little bit better, waking up 2, sometimes 3 times a night.  Progress, not perfection.  My preferred sleeping position is on my tummy, butt in the air, and thumb in my mouth.  Mom is worried about my future orthodontic bills, but she’s happy for now that I can soothe myself.  If my thumb isn’t in my mouth, my fist probably is, or maybe your fists if you’re dumb enough to put it close to my mouth.  I really don’t discriminate on what I try to eat.  I’ve most recently realized that I’m super flexible and sucking on my toes can be as fun as sucking on my thumb.  All that baby yoga is really paying off.

Sorry for the short post, but I have things to do, milk to eat, and diapers to dirty!