I think my problem always comes from having preconceived notions about how my breastfeeding journey is going to play out with any particular child. I was fully committed to breastfeeding each child. Not because I subscribe to the “breast is best and formula is like feeding your child rocket fuel!” way of thinking, but because I am cheap. Formula is expensive, man! Like, we’re going to have to cut out some non-essentials and budget for this, expensive. I guess the rocket fuel manufacturers jealously hoard the stuff or something. I kid, I kid.
Like the Beatles album, but chubbier and more giggly.
Today, my baby is one. If you are wondering how that nursing thing went, I am still fighting for one nurse a day. Girl is weaning herself hardcore. But that struggle deserves its own post.
Milestones: She is pulling up to stand, cruising around while holding onto things, walking with push toys, and standing unassisted for a few seconds. She can also climb the stairs and open the door to the baby gate I put in front of the stairs in my futile attempt to keep her from going up the stairs. She knows that I am “Mama” and takes full advantage of it by shouting it at the top of her lungs if I am out of sight until I reappear and give her what she wants. So, she pretty much shouts, “Mama!” at me all day. If I ask her who Dada is, she will point to Scott. She just started pointing, and it is pretty cute.
Happy Pentecost Sunday! I tried to make sure the girls and I were all wearing dresses with something red(ish) on it. I was excited about Pentecost Sunday Mass. Happily, the girls behaved themselves and we had no mishaps. Rose decided the nice breeze outside was too much for her.
Now Rosie is fine and Ruth is too chilly. I can’t win. Anyhow, I shall satisfy your burning curiosity as to what the girls are wearing.
Dress was a gift from my mother-in-law, shoes were a gift from my Mom. I guess that isn’t very much information. Sorry about that. I have no idea where they got them!
Happy Mother’s Day to all you mamas out there! I’m sitting here blogging while Scott is vanquishing the endless mountain of dirty dishes, so it is safe to say I’m having a pretty good one. Linking up with Rosie from a Blog for my Mom.
Mass today was a bit of a shock after Scott and I went by ourselves two weeks ago in Chicago and then we were all hit with a horrible fevers/colds/coughs plague last week, so we didn’t make it to Mass. We scrambled in right on time today, but of course the second we crossed the threshold all of a sudden both Ruth and Rose had to use the bathroom. So we ended up sauntering into the sanctuary not until the Gospel reading. Mom and Dad had kindly held some seats (read: an entire pew) for us, so we shuffled in. Wren had put the hymnal in my lap and was perched on my knees, but wanted to move the hymnal and lean back against me, so I had to push her forward a bit (while supporting her, of course) so that I could move the hymnal from my lap. Well, she got startled by me leaning her forward and thought she was going to fall, and started wailing loudly. I got her calmed down pretty quickly by just pulling her in and holding her, but the couple in the pew directly in front of us left the pew in a huff once Wren started wailing. Then, they pointedly made their way to a pew a sufficient distance away from us and sat back down. It was pretty embarrassing and hurtful. That was the only time Wren cried, and it was simply because I startled her and she thought she was going to fall. Oh well, something to offer up.
This idea was inspired by my girl Nell, who is struggling with some debilitating hyperemesis gravidarum (is there any other kind?) right now and could use your prayers if you have a moment to spare.
For this post, I interviewed my intrepid mother. She is the eldest daughter of Cuban refugees and also an attorney turned SAHM. My grandmother dropped her off at her first day of kindergarten neglecting to mention to her teachers that she didn’t speak any English. My grandmother took it for granted that my mother would learn English in no time. And that she did.
Here is Part I, in case you stumbled into this post in medias res.
Where was I? Ah yes. We had just completed the famed architecture tour. Definitely a must if you are ever in Chicago. After lunch, we decided to squeeze in a visit to the Art Institute before the wedding. The Art Institute was a block away from our hotel and the wedding venue, so we figured we had enough time. As it was with all of our decisions in Chicago, we did not regret it. The art museum was a marvel. Scott dabbles in art himself (if you will permit me to brag on my husband, I think he is an extremely talented artist), so he was really looking forward to seeing some American masterpieces like American Gothic in person.
As soon as I got that invitation for the wedding of my high school best friend, I knew I was attending come hell or high water. She has been living in Chicago for several years now, and I had yet to go visit her over there. Luckily for me, Scott was able to free up his schedule and give me the go ahead to make arrangements for our trip.
I, of course, crowd sourced all of my social media and blog outlets to get the skinny on all of the must-sees and must-eats in Chicago. As usual, the recommendations didn’t disappoint. But, I am getting ahead of myself.
You already knew this, I’m sure.
Rhea is 11 months old! Cue the obligatory wailing and gnashing of teeth. She has almost completely weaned herself, which is leading to actual wailing and gnashing of teeth. On my part. I had this beautiful vision in my head of breastfeeding a plump toddler, Cassatt painting-style, and my hopes have been dashed. Well, you know what they say: we make plans and our toddlers laugh. Does anyone say that? I know I do.
Anyway, I’m going to do something different for her 11 month post. Instead of telling you all of her milestones (for example, she is pulling up to stand, and can say “ball” and shake her head for “no” and nod her head for “yes”, yada yada yada), I’m going to spare you all of those boring details and launch into a boring post of all of the bonnets she has worn throughout her 11 short months outside the womb. My darling friend Sarah suggested it. She lives in Australia, has seven gorgeous blonde children, and definitely needs a blog. I need another way to stalk her. Bring on the bonnets!
Ok, so this post is going to be divided into two sections: 1) the rompers that are suitable only for pinning onto Pinterest for most of us, but that I would highly recommend if you are blessed with a sizable children’s clothing allowance; and 2) affordable but also really cute rompers for the rest of us.
Sorry for all of the annoying links in this post, but I am not affiliated with or sponsored by any of these shops (looking at my blog, that is pretty obvious), and as such I have no rights to their pictures.
Happy Easter, dear readers!! Death, where is thy sting?!
We did not go to the Easter Vigil this year, but instead opted for the ER at the nearby children’s hospital. In the rush to get up the stairs for baths/bed, Wren got knocked down and smashed her two front teeth on the stairs. After Scott finally managed to mop up the copious amounts of blood spurting out of her mouth, he determined that her teeth were messed up and an ER trip would be needed. So I threw on her shoes and mine, put a rag up against her mouth, and headed for the ER. We both arrived with blood stains all over our shirts, which I was hoping would expedite our wait a bit, but no such luck. It was determined that even though her two front teeth looked pushed back a good bit, they weren’t in any danger of falling out . . . . yet. Apparently, her teeth could die and fall out later. It would give her a roguish look, for sure. I’m sure she could pull it off. Anyway, we have to go to the dentist as soon as possible to see if her adult teeth sustained any damage. They also said that her heart issue complicates things a bit and put her on antibiotics just in case the blood loss causes an infection. Wren seems fine, but Scott and I are still pretty traumatized from the whole incident. I will spare you a picture of it, because quite frankly I can’t even look at those teeth without getting queasy.