Weekend wrap up

Now that the season is over and the barnstorming tour is over, Eric is actually home on the weekends.  It's a nice change.  Friday evening we had fun listening to some blue grass music in the Durham Tobacco District with a few friends. 


Nearly impossible to get a child to look at a camera in a public place.

Matching Chucks

Saturday started a little rough.  The weather was chilly, Eric was sick (he got it from Brady), and I had some work troubles.  But we had a good dinner, watched a good movie, and Eric started feeling better.

And speaking of work, if you want to read my latest article on the new Tar Heel Monthly website, you can do so here.  I'm lucky to be able to write about my hair and Brady for a sports site.

Sunday morning Eric and I had our first turn in the nursery.  I guess when you send your child there each week, the ask to serve there is inevitable.  We worked the 8:30 service, which is usually the slower one - some weeks, Brady is the only client.  Not this week: Eric and I had 6 kids under the age of 3.  It went well, but I don't think I'm going to convince Eric to have a family of 8 anytime soon.

Eric was itching to take the boat out, and fortunately, the weather was perfect yesterday.  Brady liked the boat, but not necessarily his life vest.  He loved the water and would have been perfectly content to jump in if we let him, despite the fact that it was freezing.  Walking on firm ground is enough of a challenge, so Brady trying to get around on the rocking boat was like watching a drunk sailor.

Why am I the only fool wearing one of these?

A little colder than the bathtub, but still loving it.

Brady has officially driven the boat as much as his mom has.

Worn out

Naptime

This is how my tummy-sleeper fell asleep for his nap today.

Letters to Brady: 11 months

Dear Brady,

You're old today.  As I see signs of you leaving babyhood and entering toddlerdom, I have mixed emotions.  You were such an easy baby and I have a fear is that toddlerdom will change you.  Two days ago, you started boycotting finger food.  Chicken, blueberries, grapes - things you previously scarfed down were no longer a dining option.  Even when I tried to sneak these things in on a spoon, with something pureed, the look of disgust you had as you spit them out was dramatic, to say the least.  You thought pureed carrots were delicious, but give you a carrot chunk and it ended up on the bib.  You've been such a good eater up until now and I don't look forward to the food wars.

The good news is that you're getting smarter.  The bad news is that you're getting smarter.  Your dad and I can't pull the wool over your eyes quite as easy anymore.  It does mean that you can (sometimes) understand what I say.  A few weeks ago, I told you to clap your hands, and you did it!  After talking to myself you for 10 months, it is so gratifying to see you finally understand something, anything, I am saying.  You can also wave on demand (when you feel like it) and your double-handed wave melts me.

Every mother loves her child's smile and I am no different.  There is this one smile you have:  your eyes get squinty and you're so happy that your face seems like it isn't big enough and your mouth won't quite let you smile wide enough.  That one gets me.

Some babies have lovies, you have my hair.  It's your security blanket.  If you're tired and I'm holding you, you'll suck your right thumb, rest your head on my left shoulder and wrap your left arm around my neck to rub my hair between your fingers.  Sometimes, it's sweet.  Sometimes, I want nothing more than to shave my head.  I'm trying to break you of the habit and those efforts have been fruitless.  I thought of a perfect solution:  we'd buy you a doll with long blond hair and you could bring her around where ever you go.  Your dad wasn't too jazzed about that idea.

As you get older, wiser, and more independent, remember that I (and my hair) will always be here for you.  I love you.

Love,
Mom

Those eyes, that smile.

Amazing how the time of day can have such an impact regarding the affection you feel towards your child.  Example: I did not find Brady adorable when he woke up this morning at 5 am.  And now, at 10 pm as he sleeps soundly in his bed (and I should be doing the same), I can't think of anything more precious.  Ok, I lied, I still thought he was sort of adorable at 5 am...but I would never tell him that.

A friend this afternoon labeled Brady's eyes as "denim blue" and I admit, he did do a great job matching his eyes to his shirt today.  Here are the many lovable faces of Brady.

 

In the spirit of full disclosure, I have to admit to you that I just changed the size on these pictures, concerned this might come across as a "look-how-cute-my-kid-is" post.  As if going from "X-large" to "large" would somehow detract from the fact that I posted five consecutive pictures of my son that were taken in the span of about 30 seconds.  And to distract you from the fact that I have a blog primarily dedicated to the same kid.

Oh well, a mom can only be expected to exert so much self-control.  Especially a tired one.

Blog on

"Wow, the time has just flown by."

When you become a parent, it is mandatory to repeat this phrase at least 5 times per year.  What, did you not read that in the parent's manual?  Well, you're probably in the clear because I know you've said it.  And while I find this cliche to be true, it's also not. 

I started this blog forever ago.  Actually, it was just under a year ago, but it feels like forever.  I was pregnant, with a baby, who's now a boy!  How could all that have happened in a year? It must have been at least five!

From the beginning, I had a vision for my blog.  I'd blog regularly and at the end of each year, I'd turn the blog into little book.  As a teenager, Brady would run across the blog book sitting on the shelf.  He'd dust it off, read the first entry and be hooked, reading it cover-to-cover, basking in the love and cleverness of his mother.  He might even take it to bed, and read it under the covers with a flashlight.  Of course, this will all happen on a Friday night, since he will be happily home with his parents while the other hooligans his age are out raising hell. 

Or he could end up like his mother who's Friday nights would never be voluntary spent at home.  Or he could be like his father who would never open a book unless it was on a syllabus.  And even then...

The truth is, I have no idea how that kid will turn out.  He might love books like his mom, or hate them like his dad.  He might be a writer or perhaps he'll be more of a storyteller.  He may be a skeptic and a cynic or maybe he'll be a believer.  He might be content to sit and be still or he might never stop moving.  He may be a minimalist, or a hoarder.  He might be an introvert or he might never meet a stranger.  He may like to ride bikes, but maybe he'll prefer to ride his unicycle.

It's exciting to think about what might be in store for Brady.  We pray he'll get the best from both of us and hope that even if he gets the worst, he still won't turn out that bad.

So I hope you've enjoyed reading the blog as much as I've enjoyed writing it.  But I've always thought you should end things before you get burned out.

So this will be my final blog entry.

Pysche!  If I didn't blog how would I (and you) know when Brady took his first steps?  Or when he pooped in the potty for the first time (no pictures, I promise).  I'd actually have to write these things down in his baby book.

So I will blog on.

Please don't call CPS

First children...they're the test, right?  They are the kids you test your parenting skills (or lack thereof) out on and you feel good about yourself when they turn out to be upstanding citizens, or at least when they turn out to never have seen the inside of the county jail.  I'm sure my parents were shocked when their oldest son turned out normal (and less shocked when their youngest daughter turned out perfect).

Sometimes it's hard to admit your parenting failures. Some are obvious, some probably won't reveal themselves until long after we're able to do anything to correct them.  But Eric and I have had a few slip-ups, and a few that have left us feeling that Brady has a guardian angel watching over him...and us.

The first happened when Brady was about 5 months old.  Eric had gotten home from work and was changing his clothes.  I was in Brady's room and heard a thump.  The thump wasn't followed by any crying, so I wasn't concerned.  However, when I walked in, I was met by a shaken-up husband.  He had placed Brady safely in the middle of the bed he Eric went into the closet to hang up his belt.  However, he had underestimated the ability of our non-mobile infant to become mobile rather quickly.  He came out of the closet to find a Brady heading for a face-first face-plant off our very high bed.  Eric dove and caught Brady before he hit the ground.  Eric acquired a well-earned floor burn and Brady demonstrated a fearless streak that has not left him since.

Our parental flaws were most recently revealed this past Monday night.  I'll set the scene:  Sleep training had begun and I put him down earlier than usual (hoping he'd wake earlier than usual).  He was crying, as he sometimes does, but I knew he'd put himself to sleep eventually.  Instead of going downstairs with the monitor like we normally do, Eric and I stayed upstairs, jumping in the shower after our evening run and putting away some laundry.  As we walked out of our room to head downstairs (Brady still not asleep), Eric stopped and told me he smelled something burning.  The smell was evident as soon as I got into the hallway, so I immediately went downstairs, thinking I'd be met with flames from the kitchen.  I wasn't and I came back upstairs.  Eric had walked into Brady's room and found the source of the smell.  We had bought a space heater for the winter months - it was still plugged in and pushed up against Brady's crib. In his anger about being put in his crib, Brady had stood up, reached over, and turned it on.  And what we were smelling was burning wood.  From the crib.  Which our baby was sleeping in.  It had reached 87 degrees in his room and no doubt if we hadn't walked in, the temperature of the room and the crib would have increased.  It took a while for visions of a crib (and baby) in flames to leave me.

As I sat there rocking my sweaty baby, we thanked God for his obvious intervention.  The craziest thing that we still can't explain is the smell.  Our room and the stairs are down the hall from Brady and it would follow that if it was strong near our room, the smell closer to Brady's room would have gotten stronger.  But it wasn't, and I'd even say it was less evident.  But outside our bedroom, a safe distance from Brady's room, the smell was unmistakable.

And why were we upstairs anyway?  We so rarely stay upstairs after Brady is in his crib.  That's our time to quickly escape and veg on the couch.  If we had been downstairs, how long would it have been until I had gone up to check on Brady?  With sleep training on my mind and video monitor in hand, I was intent to let him work it out on his own and I very hesitant to go into his room as my presence usually gets him more worked up.

So we are thankful.  We hate to cash in our chips so early, but that is certainly how it feels.  I am not a worrier by nature and don't plan on turning into one, but it's times like this...when you think about the "what-ifs"...that you feel crippled as a parent. 

So unplug your space heaters and hug your babies closer tonight, except hopefully yours are in bed until morning.

He is Risen! And I'm doing something about it.

Happy Easter (Monday), ya'll.  The fact that I just wrote that and it sounded normal in my head means I've been in the South too long!

We had a great time celebrating Christ's Resurrection this weekend with Eric's family in Newton. However, there is another person in my life who is rising...frequently...and at night, and it's not worth celebrating.  What better time to put the kibosh on those night-time wake-ups than Easter?  Last night was our first attempt at sleep training.  I've given up on the dream that Brady will just figure things out on his own.  I think that if I maintain that philosophy, he will be enrolling in kindergarten when I (and he) finally get a full night's sleep.

The last month or so, we've traveled a lot and sleep training in a hotel or someone else's house wasn't going to work.  But I've used up that excuse and there's no traveling in our near future, so Easter was the beginning of a new age in our household!  Don't I sound tough?!  Sleep training, for those who haven't had the pleasure of participating, is basically the process of getting baby's to sleep through the night.  Letting them "cry-it-out" is a popular method and one I've hoped to avoid.  But my baby has hit double-digits...and it's time.

I'm not trying to go cold turkey, so my plan was to cut out the first feeding (by letting him cry) and feed him the next time he woke up. So last night, Brady woke up at 11:45.  I shut his door and our door so Eric could sleep (although if I'm honest, he might have been able to sleep regardless) and I cuddled up with my book in the guest room.  It wasn't so bad, and after 30 minutes of on-and-off crying, Brady put himself back to sleep.  So I went back to bed.  Then he woke up at 1:45.  I fed him.  Then he woke up at 3:45. I fed him.  Then he woke up at 6 am.  I fed him, handed him to his dad, and slept an hour in the guest room.

Clearly, my plan needs a little tweaking, and I'm not looking forward to it.  Tonight, I'll repeat last night's plan, but I'm only going to feed him once.  Which will probably mean he'll have to "cry-it-out" twice tonight.  I'm starting to wonder if sleeping in the basement and "accidentally" forgetting to turn on the monitor wouldn't be the best strategy.

Supposedly, the longer you wait, the harder this is.  So reassuring!  Should be a good week.  Thankfully, the Easter bunny dropped a Starbucks card in my basket which might get some use this week.  Below are some Easter pictures to remind me why I'm not really even mad that I haven't slept through the night in 10 months!  For a girl who loves her sleep, that's saying something.

Before Sunrise service.  The look of confusion my have something to do with the fact that we woke him up in the morning.  Ha...role reversal.

Playing with Easter toys between Easter services. Who's having more fun?



"Hi Mom! Why do you look tired??"



"Get my good side, please."

"This belly needs some ham!"

Pinterest projects

Back it Feburary, I wrote about how I was going to get my house (and myself) together and even made a pretty chart to help me get there.  Since I lack a printer and kept forgetting to have Eric print it out for me, I just made my checkmarks on the computer.  Which, I admit, is a little less satisfying than making a checkmark with a Sharpie, but making checkmarks is not really the point, right?

Anyway, things went very well, particularly the first few weeks when my motivation was particularly high.  I had more filled in boxes than empty ones. The workouts were good too, aided by the fact that I found a running partner.  I run 2-3 times each week, usually about 4 miles.  However, my lovely chart with the checked boxes died, along with my entire harddrive about 3 weeks ago.  The saddest thing to lose was my excel document with all my addresses: Christmas cards will be a challenge next year.

I can't share my chart, but I can share my latest Pinterest projects!  Don't worry, there are only three.

First up, vases:

Here is one (holding my 2nd paper tree). It was super easy to do, you can get all the supplies at Michaels, and the tutorial is here.  One suggestion is to get a vase without such a big lip (I just used a vase that flowers came in).  Since you have to paint the inside, it was hard for me to paint the underneath part of this vase.

Next up, a key holder.

This was more challenging, but I like how it turned out.  The was the cheapest of all projects (free), but manipulating the hanger (which is what is used for the hook) took some time.  My keys now have a home.  Tutorial is here.

Finally, my proudest feat...my first "painting".

I really like how this turned out and it is now hanging in our bedroom.  I had the paint already, so all I had to buy was the canvas and brushes for the circles.  And the original "artist" suggested using a brown paint pen, but I think that was a waste of about $2.  The paint pen didn't work for me and I ended up using a paint brush and brown paint - its really not that difficult to paint branches, even for me.   Tutorial is here.

So that's it.  No more craft updates for a while.  My next project is to get Brady sleeping through the night.  Or even just waking up once would be a nice.  We'll see this weekend if the Easter Bunny can deliver that treat!

Phone photos

If I had a fancy iPhone, I'd probably title this post, Instagram photos, but I don't.  So here are my non-Instagram, sometimes-blurry, Blackberry phone photos from the past few weeks.  With a few of other people's iPhone photos sprinkled in.

This is from a hotel room, somewhere.  Looks like we're prepping before a game.

 This picture is post-nap from our hotel in St. Louis.  Brady is a 18 lb furnace.  Seriously, he's a sweat machine.  Whenever he naps on me, he wakes up in a pile of sweat.  Which is awesome, because it means I can style his hair.

Speaking of hair, Brady thinks the hairdryer is pretty funny.  Here's a picture of Brady getting his hair blown before church this morning.

Brady and I hit up the baseball game yesterday. Superman thought the over sized hat someone put on his head was hilarious. 



I would rarely post a picture of myself in bed in the morning pre-makeup, but this is adequately blurry/dark.  I snapped this around at 6:30 am on Friday, but waited to send it to Eric until about 2 hours later.  He was "working" in New Orleans this weekend and I'm sure when he got the picture, he wasn't out of bed himself.

Another PJ pic.  Eric was out Monday night late (he is home sometimes, I promise) and I sent this one to him so he knew what his son was up to.  Note the time behind Brady's "innocent" smirk. If his dad didn't need to be in bed, he didn't think he needed to be either.

And finally, to show that every picture isn't of Brady, here is my parking job on Franklin Street this morning.  I was proud of myself for fitting (clearly, because who takes a picture of their parking job) and had to send it to Eric because if he had been with me in the car, he would have heckled me and told me I couldn't fit.  Brady cheered me on.  And no cars were injured in the making of this photo.

What did we do before there were camera phones?