Questions

When you reach certain milestones in your life people feel the need to ask you certain questions.  It doesn't matter who you are because your family, friends, acquaintances, and total strangers are going to ask you the same questions.  Examples:

High School:

What colleges did you get into?

Where are you going to go?

What are you going to study?

Do you have a boyfriend?  (Ok, that one might be reserved to just my family, but maybe not?  And for those who care, the answer was generally no.)

College:

How's your roommate?

Do you like your classes?

How's the food?

What's your major?

Do you have a boyfriend? (Again, maybe just my family? The answer during college was always no...I wasn't about to date any of those Salve boys!)

After college:

Do you have a job?

Do you have a boyfriend?  (I think my family was worried about me.  Eventually the answer was yes, and he was the best guy ever!)

After getting engaged:

When are you getting married?
Where are you getting married?
Did you get a dress?

What are your colors?

When are you going to have a baby? Not even joking.

While Pregnant:

When are you due?

Is it a boy or girl?

What are you going to name the baby?

After baby is born:

Is it a boy or girl?  See #6 on my list of things I will never understand.

Is she big for her age?  (If one more person asks me this, I seriously am going to ask them if they are big for their age.)

Each of these series of questions eventually gets so annoying that at some point you considered tattooing the answers across your forehead.  But there is a new question people ask that has become my least favorite question of all time.  Anytime someone asks I want to burst into tears and scream and rip my hair out, and probably because I'm totally exhausted.  

Does she sleep through the night?

I know I've blogged about this before, so it's probably not much of a surprise that my kid just doesn't sleep through the night.  She has a million other amazing qualities that I am incredibly grateful for.  She has an awesome personality, she eats like a champ and has the rolls to prove it (I guess prompting the is she big question), and she's just flat out adorable.  But O. M. G. she is the worst sleeper.  Every once in a while Steve and I get a glimpse of what life with a sleeping baby could be like.  We will get a night or two of pure, sleeping bliss.  It's almost hard to enjoy it, though, because we know that it inevitably means nights of torture to come.  For example, Wednesday night she went from 8:30 until 5:00 the next morning and it was glorious to get hours of uninterrupted sleep.  Last night, however, she was up every three hours.  

When people ask the question, I just never know what to say.  I've tried the truth, and that inevitably leads to  looks of pity and people telling me about their amazing kids who slept through the night at something outlandish like 3 days old.  Or I get advice on how to get my baby to sleep through the night.  Seriously people, you think I haven't tried that?

Then I try lying.  And that usually brings such a crestfallen look to the asking parent's face that I try to backtrack.  "Oh, wait, no.  Your baby doesn't sleep either?  Mine doesn't, I swear!  I just figured your does, so I wanted to fit in.  Honestly, she doesn't!"  I think it makes the other parent feel worse.  

So it's a no win situation.  Until my baby finally decides to make sleeping through the night a habit, I will keep drinking coffee every morning out of the biggest mug I have in my kitchen.  And as I revel in each sip, I will hope and pray that maybe by the time it becomes seasonably appropriate to use this mug, Evelyn will be sleeping through the night!  And if it happens much sooner, possibly before I go back to work in a few weeks, that would be even better!

Found two sips left when I picked this up to take the picture.  Merry Christmas to me!  

The Royal Delivery

I have a not so secret obsession with Kate Middleton.  She is my imaginary bestie.  To the extent that when I mention my best friend, Steve knows I mean Kate and not one of my actual friends.  I feel like this infatuation has to do with the fact that our lives seem to really mirror each other.  Steve proposed, Will proposed.  We got married in April 2011, Kate and William got married 6 days later.  I was worried for a while when they started talking about April for the royal wedding that it was going to be on the same day as mine making it hard to watch, and yes, I woke up early that day.  I even had it turned on in my classroom that morning to watch the balcony kiss.  I got pregnant, she got pregnant shortly after.  It has been so great being able to share the special moments in our lives together.

Our lives parallel each other so completely that I was convinced her baby was going to be a girl, too.  I actually had a moment of sadness when the news came that it was a boy, until I realized that now our kids can grow up together and get married some day!  

As I was watching all the hoopla this week, and loving every minute of it, I started to think about the similarities and differences between being pregnant as a princess and every other regular girl out there.  So here we go...

Similarities:

1. No matter who you are, people are super excited to find out what you're having:

A crowd reacts to the news it's a boy.  Took this picture from CNN.com...just want to give credit!!  

Evelyn's grandparents wait (phones ready to photograph the moment) to hear the news!

2. People give you suggestions about names and they don't take it nearly as serious as you do.  People in England are placing bets on what the baby's name is going to be.  I've heard that people are even putting bets on Elvis to be selected (took me a few to figure this one out...the King).  Steve and I often heard Penny or Lois as great names if we have a girl.  Har, har, har.  (Since starting this post, the official news has come that the baby is George Alexander Louis, big surprise there.)

3.  People you barely know give you gifts - people you know distantly through work, people your parents work with, etc.  Everywhere Kate and William go, people are handing them gifts. Prince Charles was even handed a gift for the baby the other day.  Did anyone else notice that it was a Sophie giraffe?  I hope that Sophie actually makes it to the baby, those things are amazing.  (Difference: the royals are apparently donating their gifts and asking people to make donations to children's charities instead of giving them gifts, we accepted anything people sent our way!)

4.  You are starving after you give birth.  Supposedly the royal couple had pizza delivered.  My family brought me a wedge salad.  With extra blue cheese.  And potato skins.  And some Christmas cookies.  And I might have even eaten part of the hospital dinner, too.  Child birthing takes a lot out of you.

news.com.au

5. Your parents are super excited to meet their new grandchild.  I will also add that my parents spent the night in the hospital waiting for Evelyn to be born and Steve's parents showed up at about 6 am the morning she was born.  The royal grandparents didn't show up until the next day.  Our parents must love us more.

people.com

usmagazine.com

6.  No matter who you are, you still look pregnant a day after giving birth:

usmagazine.com

I seriously love that she wore a dress that didn't hide her belly.  Difference: her belly will probably be gone in about 3 days, mine hung around for a while (based on my comments above, maybe it had to do with all I was eating).  I honestly would post a picture, but I can't find one.  Also, I give her tons of credit for walking out of the hospital the next day.  I could barely shuffle to the bathroom a day after giving birth.


Differences:
People don't make you pose for side shots when you are a princess.  Especially not when you are walking out the door to go to the hospital.  In addition, you don't get as big as a house when you are a princess.  

At the moment, that's all I've got, but I know there are about a million more.  I had more ideas when I started this hours ago, but my teething baby is really draining me of everything I have.  Help me out with your thoughts.   

Concussed?

This is the post my mom has been begging me to write since the event occurred.  Not because it highlights our parenting adventures, but I think because it paints a perfect picture of the quick wit of Evelyn's Uncle Charlie.  As it is, this is the story of our almost first trip to the emergency room.

A few Saturdays ago, Steve was up at his parents' helping his dad rip out the old deck.  Evelyn took a nap, woke up, ate, and it was time to change her and get her dressed for the day.  I put on her new diaper, after which she immediately rolled over onto her belly on the table.  I know all the books make perfectly clear that you are to keep one hand on baby at all times when they are on the changing table so that they don't roll off. Once she started rolling, I still wasn't really worried about the rolling because, much like Derek Zoolander, Evelyn is not an ambi-turner.  At the time, she could only roll to the right, which was towards the wall.  Not that I ever walk away while she's on the table, but if I need to grab diapers or wipes or clothes out of the drawer in the table, I don't pick her up.

So, she rolled over and I took this opportunity to grab an outfit for the day.  As I was pondering the blue crab bubble shorts or the pink monkey bubble shorts, she began her new thing.  You know those "superman" exercise moves where you lay on your belly and lift your arms and legs at the same time?  Her new thing is to do those, but fast and spastic like she's just downed a 5 hour energy drink.  She loves it, it amuses her, and it makes us laugh.  Until I heard the crack that could only be a head whacking into the side of the very solid table, and the wail that followed.

I immediately also burst into tears, grabbed her, and panicked.  Do I call 911?  the doctor?  put ice on it?  not do anything because maybe she's just reacting to my horror at the thought that I've just given my kid a traumatic brain injury?  Notice that at no point did I think, maybe I should call Steve?  How could I call and tell him that I've just broken his perfect baby girl?  That after all the eye-rolling and I'll do its, it was actually me who ruined her first?

I ended up doing what any normal new mom would do, I called my mom.  After explaining the situation, her first question was, "What's she doing now?  I don't hear anything, is she crying?"  In the two minutes that I tried to figure out what to do, Evelyn had calmed down and moved on.  At this point Kelly also came out of her room (the crying had woken her up, so I'm not just being dramatic) and did a quick nurse's once-over, declared her fine and told me to get over it.

Still not convinced, I packed Evelyn in the carseat, and drove to my parents'.  Nanny declared her fine, and we proceeded to take our walk, as intended.  I still had not called Steve.  Why worry him?  We took our walk and Evelyn fell asleep.  In my mind I was convinced she had a concussion, not that it's totally normal for her to fall asleep on a walk.  When we got back, I was relieved that she woke up as soon as I started taking her out of the stroller.

We went into the house, where I explained to my brother, Charlie, what had happened, and concluded the story with...

ME: But it's ok, she doesn't have a concussion or anything.

CHARLIE: How do you know?

ME: She woke right up after her nap, and it's hard to wake up a person with a concussion.

CHARLIE: That's not the only sign.  Evelyn, WHERE ARE YOU??  WHAT'S THE DATE??  SAY YOUR NAME!

NANNY: (In her best Beyonce impression, which those of you who know her, know is impressive) Say my name, say my name...

EVELYN: What kind of nut house is this?

Steve finally got home a little later, and I confessed what had happened and showed him the little bruise that did develop right at the top of her nose.  Although at this point, I'm not sure that it wasn't just some kind of mark that was already there and I just never noticed because it hasn't gone away three weeks later.  Or maybe I really did ruin her?  His response, "Maybe we should start strapping her down when we change her?"  I fought the urge to eye roll and said maybe that was a good idea.  On the inside I was thinking, "Oh right, and how am I supposed to get her dressed every day strapped in?"  To prove his point, he took her right in for a diaper change and strapped her down.  He turned to get a diaper and when he turned back, this is what he found:

Vacation!

It's been for-EV-ver!  We went on our first big trip last week.  Some of you may recall how I prepared for our first road trip.  Instead of spending the evening before preparing, I spent a whole week preparing and packing to go away to Maine.  I made serious lists: things to pack, things to remember to do, things to buy, things to get at my parents', things to find, etc.  I do have to give myself a pat on the back because we had every single thing we needed...for Evelyn.  And to be honest, the only thing I forgot for myself was my rain coat.  It wasn't on a list.

We made it out of the house right on schedule, 6:15, and everything was going great.  Evelyn didn't fall asleep right away, but it was fine because she was happy kicking her carseat and blowing raspberries at herself in the mirror.  She eventually took a snooze and we made it to New York, no sweat.  We stopped for breakfast at good, ol' McDonald's.  I started feeding baby, and Steve got in line to order.  I was suddenly distracted by a commotion by the registers.  I looked over and saw that Steve was about to have to break up a fight between a couple of eighty year old punks.  Mac apparently cut in line, which really angered the other man waiting, who expressed his anger by calling Mac an "old bastard."  Well, that really set Mac off.  Mac started wagging his finger in the other guy's face, and then suddenly it was over.  And that, my friends, was the highlight of our trip.  Everything went downhill from there.

Rain and traffic caused us to crawl through Connecticut.  But the real problem that we had to deal with was constipation.  As of the morning we left, Evelyn had not pooped in 2 days.  I switched her cereal to something with more fiber, but it wasn't helping  When we finally stopped again she had been grunting and groaning for about 20 minutes, but there was nothing in the diap.  We got out, ate again, and got back in the car to let her crawl around for a bit.  She started grunting and groaning again, and making faces like these:

The next thing I knew, there was a ball of poop almost as big as a tennis ball in her diaper.  You could see it protruding through her diaper.  The oatmeal was finally working!  We got her changed, and she started jumping and smiling again for a few minutes.  And then the grunting, groaning, and faces started again.  Suddenly, I could feel another massive poop through the diaper.  Changing her was going to be a little trickier this time.  It was pouring out again, and laying her on the seat was not going to be possible without one of us getting soaked.  So, I placed her, poopy diaper and all, on my lap and Steve changed her.  Why I don't think to take pictures of these things, I will never know.  

I did remember to take a picture of me pumping in the car though.  Unfortunately, my hooter hider is now gone.  I think it must have fallen out of the car at some point while I was climbing in or out.  

So, exactly twelve hours after we hit the road, we finally arrived at Grammy's house.  We had a great week! Some of the highlights of our week include

Meeting some Lane cousins!

Meeting some Footer cousins!

A Sea Dogs baseball game!

Five Islands

Feeling the Atlantic Ocean for the first time!

Playing with Daddy at the lake!

Not liking the 4th of July parade.

Our drive up to Maine started with poop, so it is only fitting that we dealt with poop on our way home as well.  We had another poop-less day or two before driving home yesterday.  As soon as we got home and out of the car, the grunting started again and she managed a little one.  Before putting her in the tub, I always stand her on the counter in the bathroom to make faces in the mirror.  The faces I got last night, were more poop faces.  The next thing I knew, there it was coming out of her little hiney.  Steve ran in with a diaper and caught it just in time as it fell out of her tush.  A smarter person would have held her over the toilet, but it's hard to think of these things in the moment!