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!