Together we walked to the edge of the yard, and Lee drove the sign into the bed of ivy near the sidewalk. That red and white sign advertising a house for sale. It’s dark, so I didn’t bother taking a picture.
I feel nervous. A little sad. Unsure. A little excited too.
The last (and only other) time we sold a house it felt different. Not that we didn’t love that house. It was the first house either of us had ever owned. It was the first place we’d lived as a couple. We put a lot of sweat into that house, and it felt good to watch it blossom around us. But when we made a decision to sell, it seemed like a no-brainer. The house was definitely too small. The real estate market was hot. And we could finally get into the neighborhood we’d been longing for. We knew we’d be trading our bungalow, cute though it was, for something grander.
When we sold that house, it was all about the house. It was about moving from one house into a bigger and better house/neighborhood. But this time it’s about a lot more. Things have changed, our priorities have changed, and having just the right house in just the right neighborhood isn’t the top of the list anymore. I’ve said it before – selling this house will hopefully open doors for us.
But it’s not as clear a decision as it was when we sold our first house. I find myself weighing the pros and cons often, trying to decide if we’re making the right “move.” I always end up coming to the same conclusion, that this is what we need to do. But that didn’t keep me from glancing back at that sign in the yard as we walked toward our front door, wondering again if it belonged there. If we are ready.
But first things first. Before I can get all emotional and sappy, we have to actually sell the house. And with the market the way it is these days, that may be no small task. Ready or not, we may be in this house for a while yet. I’m terrified at the prospect of keeping this house “show ready” all the time. We live in nearly every room of this house every day. We toss baby toys around. Our laundry seems to pile up so quickly. The dust bunnies of dog hair reproduce faster than I can chase them with the vacuum. For that reason, I hope for a quick offer. Let the bidding wars begin – right?
This week has been crazy at work. Really, really nuts. We’ve been dealing with several crises at once, some of them quite serious.
Working in the health field messes with my psyche sometimes. I can convince myself that I have symptoms of whatever is going around. I have bad dreams – dreams I don’t even want to recount.
And I couldn’t even enjoy the sweet slice of Americana that I witnessed yesterday. I was driving home for lunch (just HAD to get out of the office for a minute) and was in my neighborhood when I saw three children standing beside a table in their front yard. Hand-drawn signs were hanging from the front advertising lemonade for sale for 50 cents a cup.
My heart was warmed and I was grateful I actually had a dollar in my wallet. I usually don’t have cash, and they didn’t appear to be set up to take debit cards. I got out of the car and ordered 2 cold ones.
But as I watched them prepare my lemonade, the public health part of my brain kicked in. “They’re not wearing gloves, they’re not wearing gloves.” The refrain kept running through my brain as I watched their little fingers holding the spoon, so dangerously close to the water. And where did that water come from anyway? Were those cups clean? Why weren’t these kids wearing hairnets?
I knew my colleagues would tell me not to drink it. Not worth the risk. But both Lee and I drank our lemonade with lunch. It just somehow seemed wrong not to. I wanted to believe. I had a lemonade stand when I was younger, set up right across the street from a construction site in mid-summer. Talk about knowing my audience! They seemed grateful for the cool beverage, and I would have been offended if they hadn’t thought it was safe to drink. So I drank it. And so far, I’m fine.
But all that internal dialogue is a hazard of the job I guess.
This week really has been kind of rough, but every evening when I get home, I feel my blood pressure drop. Being with Lee and Camille is like good medicine. I mean, who couldn’t smile with this little angel strolling bears around the house?
It’s always hot in Savannah in August, but today was just plain ridiculous. I was standing outside having a rather lively conversation on the phone with a co-worker this afternoon when I felt something tickling both my elbows. I went to wipe away a bug, when I realized it was sweat. Running in rivers down my arms. Dripping off my elbows onto the concrete (I’m surprised it didn’t sizzle.) Disgusting. I was so engrossed in my debate over the phone I didn’t realize how incredibly hot it was.
Another co-worker came outside to talk to me as I hung up, and looked a little alarmed when he saw me. He grabbed my shoulder and started steering me toward the door, speaking to me in a tone usually reserved for a 98 year old grandmother who won’t follow directions. A little helpful, a lot condescending. “Don’t you think you should come inside? Let’s go inside now.”
I complied. It’s so freaking hot. Tomorrow’s heat index: 115. Time to go lie in bed under the fan and dream of November, when the temperature might finally dip below 4 thousand degrees.
I always feared this would be a problem for me in the child discipline arena, and tonight it was proven true. If something is funny but I shouldn’t laugh, I suddenly cannot contain my laughter. This is critical, because I have learned that kids do things sometimes that parents must discourage, despite the fact that they’re pretty funny.
My inability to contain inappropriate laughter has been a problem all my life. Especially in church. If something even remotely amusing happened, or a friend whispered something slightly funny in my ear, the problem would begin with a tug at the corners of my mouth. A smile would slip through, despite my attempts to control my cheek muscles. Useless. Then, my shoulders would start to shake and my breathing would become erratic as I tried to stifle the giggle bubbling up from my diaphragm. Usually it would take a stern look from my mother (or from my dad in the pulpit!) to scare me enough to counteract the laughing spasm. It felt like choking back a hiccup. Sometimes, you hold your breath but it still erupts.
Tonight, we were eating dinner and Camille was furiously signing the word “more.” But then I realized for every bite she ate, she also took a bit of turkey or green bean (especially green bean!) and threw it on the floor. To the dog’s great joy. We’d sternly told her “no.” She signed “more” again, so I gave her some more turkey. She lifted it to her lips and I was in the process of saying, “Good girl!” when she suddenly threw the turkey across the room like she was trying to break a fastball record. Then she looked at me. With those sweet eyes. Like, “Did you see that? That was awesome!” Her hair was all sticking up because she likes to play with it while she eats, and she just looked so adorable. I couldn’t be mad. So the smile started creeping up. I covered my mouth with my hands, but then my shoulders started shaking. Then I made the mistake of looking at Lee, and it was all over. I just laughed and laughed. And Camille did too. So much for getting her to understand that bit of discipline.
Speaking of her sign language skills – she has learned several words in baby school, but “more” is the one we see most often. She doesn’t do it exactly like the teacher demonstrated, but she gets her point across. I’m so glad Camille loves to eat, and I can’t seem to cut up her food quickly enough. Especially if it’s something she particularly likes.
However, I still can’t put more than one or two pieces of food on her tray at once, because she shoves everything in sight into her mouth at one time, whether there’s room for it or not. As evidenced by the following video clip, when she demonstrated her love for rice noodles.
My little sweetie is getting braver every day. She’s been walking by holding on to furniture for quite a while, but yesterday she took her first little step. I can’t say she’s truly walking yet, but she’s awfully close.
She walks very well if you hold her hands. Recently, she’d begun to stand up unsupported briefly by letting go of whatever piece of furniture was providing support, but she’d quickly plop onto her backside. But over the past few days, she’d let go and stand for several seconds, quietly concentrating very hard on finding her balance.
Yesterday, I happened to be videotaping her as she played in our living room after dinner – a very messy dinner which is why she was stripped down to her diaper. She’d been banging away at her piano, when she stood up and turned toward me (most likely because I was holding a video camera which usually gets her attention, but hey, I’ll take it.) She stood for a moment, then a longer moment, then put one little wobbly foot in front of the other – all to the sound of many cheers.
She did it again today when we were playing with her friend Baby Sterling. She’d been walking around holding on to my fingers, and when I stopped she let go but kept standing. She teetered and tottered, then seemed to find her center and got very still. Then she took a little step forward before plopping to her butt. We were all quite impressed.
Such a brave girl!
It has been a great few weeks. We’ve had lots of company – the happy combination of Camille’s birthday and teachers’ schedules. Because mom and Erin have the summer off, they’ve been able to come visit more than usual. And with all of the festivities around Camille’s birthday, we had lots of other friends and family visit as well.
But people have begun to trickle back to their homes, and tomorrow, Erin flies back to Miami. It’ll be us three. I love our three-piece family unit, but I also love our extended family. I wish “going home” meant they were just headed down the street and around the corner instead of miles and miles away.
And now, that means it’s time for us to get serious about selling our house. Whenever I thought about selling the house in the past, I saw Camille’s birthday as a sort of line in the sand. I didn’t want to have the house for sale while we had company in town and parties to plan. But now, I have no excuses. Thank goodness, Alva and Erin helped us do a lot of stuff around the house yesterday to get ready for future showings. Among other things, we organized 4 closets and took about 7 bags of clothes to Goodwill. It never ceases to amaze me how quickly our family jumps in to help on house projects like these, and it’s such a huge relief.
I view the impending sale with mixed emotions. We wanted to get into this neighborhood so badly, and it will be hard to leave. But our lives have changed and our priorities have changed, and closing this door will open many others. I think part of my hesitation is that we haven’t found a house we really want to buy yet. We’ve done a little looking, and found a couple of possibilities, but nothing we’re really excited about. I think if/when we find “the house,” selling this one will get easier.
And how am I supposed to keep working on the house when there is still so much Harry Potter to read? I’m only about 175 pages into the book! My friends are all finished, so I have some catching up to do…
Miss Camille’s birthday party was SO MUCH FUN.
Leading up to the party, I told myself it was okay if things weren’t perfect. I’d been warned that having a big party for a one year old can be a mistake, because the babies and parents are often too overwhelmed for anyone to enjoy it. But with all the great help I had, I didn’t have a chance to get overwhelmed, and Miss Camille seemed to love all the extra attention. I’m glad I didn’t heed the warning.
Not that there weren’t opportunities for drama. I decided I wanted to make Camille’s birthday cake – a guitar cake to go along with her rock-n-roll theme. Friday, mom and I teamed up in the kitchen, and she gave me a lesson in Cake Making 101. I really enjoyed that time we spent together, hovering over the mixer, passing along knowledge and traditions. Baking the cake was easy – it was the decorating that made me nervous. I had spectators, and at one point had to chase them away because I was getting jumpy, but in the end I was pretty happy with the results.
The day of the party, Camille indulged me by taking an early nap, and slept 2 and a half hours, waking up just in time to get dressed and begin welcoming guests. So many of her baby friends came to the party, and despite having that many little ones in the house, not one single baby had a meltdown.
Instead, they all enjoyed trying out Camille’s cool gifts, and it was fun to watch them play together. Even Nikki and Nia came all the way from Winder for the party, and I got the best bear hug (wasn’t I just at Nia’s first birthday party? When did she become so grown up?)
Miss Camille enjoyed opening her presents (for a while, anyway)…
…but the bows were her favorite part.
I think Camille enjoyed her birthday cake and candles, although she wasn’t quite sure what to do with it all. When we lit the candles, her eyes got so big and wide, and Uncle Dave (who was kind enough to be our official party photographer) caught her surprised look.
I had a little bakery cake just for her to destroy, and when we sat it on her highchair she kept looking at Lee and me, trying to decide what to do. It was almost as if she were asking, “Is this okay? When are you going to take this away and tell me ‘no’?”
She finally stuck her hand in it and had fun smearing icing on her face and in her hair. We had fun watching her.
It was a great, great weekend. I was so proud of Camille. And I was really touched to see how many of our friends and family came to her party. We love Camille so much and she is such an important part of us, and it was nice to see how much other people love her too.
Happy Birthday, sweet girl! Right now you are sleeping hard after a big, fun day. Can you believe you are one year old? I can’t. This time one year ago we were just beginning to get acquainted. You weren’t even 2 hours old.
Tonight, at the exact one year anniversary of the moment of your birth (7:29!), I held you in my arms as we did a little dance around the Mexican restaurant, while your Daddy, Nana, and Granddaddy sang Happy Birthday to you. And I thought about that moment. That really, really big moment when you began to cry for the first time. This moment:
Look how little you were! And angry! The moment you arrived, I was struck by an insatiable desire to be a good mother to you. The type of mother you deserve. But the path isn’t always clear, and especially in those early days, I didn’t have a clue what to do.
But over the past year, you’re not the only one who has grown. I’ve grown. You’re Daddy has grown. We’ve grown together, and enjoy a very close bond. You have always been sweet, and you have always been precious, but every day you become even more FUN!
I love how you are really interacting with and responding to us. You recently began giving us kisses, and it is adorable! I can say, “Camille, can Mommy have a kiss?” And you’ll pucker your little lips and give a big, “SMACK!” I knew you understood the word “kiss,” but tonight you took it a step further. We were in the car on our way to the restaurant and I turned around in my seat to look at you. “I love you, Camille,” I said. And you gave me a huge kiss. I wondered if it was just coincidence, so I waited a moment, then said it again. You rewarded me with another smooch. How cute are you? Every time you communicate like that with us, I just feel even more connected to you.
Another cute thing you’ve begun to do is “talk” on your telephone. You have a red plastic phone and if I hand it to you and say, “Hello?” you’ll put it up to your ear like you’re listening. Every time you do this I laugh and squeal and carry on, and so you’ve begun doing it more and more often – occasionally without prompting. The other day we were eating dinner, and you grabbed a handful of banana and held it up against your ear as if it were a telephone. We didn’t want to encourage you, but we couldn’t help but laugh and laugh.
Last night I was getting video as we played in your room, and you performed both “tricks” for me. I don’t want to treat you like a trained puppy dog, but it is just so cute when you play along. And in all fairness, we didn’t deliberately teach you to make the kissing noise or to talk on the phone. But once you did them on your own, we certainly didn’t discourage you.
During the first part of the video, you were quite excited because I’d turned the camera on us and turned the viewfinder around so you could see yourself. Who wouldn’t be enchanted by your image?
Your big birthday party is scheduled for Saturday, but today we celebrated with a little party at baby school. This morning, we sent you to daycare in one of our favorite dresses, and put a bow in your hair (now that I mention it, that bow didn’t make it home. Wonder which kid swallowed it?)
Nana and Granddaddy made it to town just in time! I made mini cupcakes for your class, with no icing because the school doesn’t allow it. But your cupcake was covered in strawberry icing (because your Mama and Daddy were there to approve) and with sprinkles, because you were wearing the special birthday girl crown which means you get special treats!
When I first sat the cupcake in front of you, you stared at it like you weren’t sure what to do. Then, before any of the babies around you could snatch it away, you shoved the whole thing in your mouth all at once.
When you finally pulled your hand away, cupcake frosting was smeared all over your nose. I think the other babies were jealous.
Nana and Granddaddy took you to the mall for a while, then we all met back at the house to open presents.
You loved all your gifts, especially the cool new piano from Nana and Granddaddy.
You’ve experienced a couple of big milestones this last month. Saturday, Grammie was the one who discovered you had your first tooth. When she swore she saw one of your pearly whites, I told her it was probably just a reflection. I’d tricked myself many times into thinking I’d seen a tooth, only to realize it was just the light shining off your gums in just the right way. But once I stuck my finger in your mouth, it was pretty clear – that was a sharp little tooth! I just couldn’t believe you hadn’t fussed or complained more. That was another reason I assumed your tooth was a figment of Grammie’s imagination, because you just weren’t cranky. But apparently, you decided getting a tooth was OK. No reason to freak out.
The tooth has just broken the surface, and hasn’t emerged quite enough for me to get a picture yet, but I’ll have my camera ready when it does.
The other milestone is a really, really big one. It’s one I’ve been scared to write about for fear of jinxing the whole thing. I just knocked on wood, in the hopes of sparing us from a regression.
You go to sleep all by yourself. Without a fuss.
There. I said it.
A couple of months ago, you would routinely fall asleep during your evening bottle. Then you’d stay awake to drink, but would let me rock you to sleep. Then, you’d stay awake in the rocking chair, but fall asleep when I stroked your cheek in your crib. Then, you stayed awake for that too, and I was out of ideas.
So for a long time, your Daddy and I lived by the 5-minute rule. I’d feed you, rock you, and stroke your cheek, and if you still weren’t asleep, I’d walk out. You would start SCREAMING! You’d stand up in your crib and shake the bars like a rabid animal. We’d look at the clock. Five minutes later, your Daddy would go into your room and scoop you up, rock you, and put you back in the crib once you calmed down. Often, you’d go right to sleep because your fussing had made you sleepy. But if you didn’t go to sleep, he’d walk out and let you scream for another 5 minutes.
It’s never easy to hear you cry, but I figured 5 minutes wouldn’t kill any of us.
A couple of weeks ago, when we were visiting Allen and Missy, our 5-minute interval routine stretched on for more than an hour. You were in a new place with new, exciting people, and you didn’t want to miss anything. You finally wore yourself out with all the crying.
Saturday night, your Daddy and I braced ourselves for more of the same. We each took a turn, but after your second crying fit, your Daddy laid you in the crib and walked out of the rooom. “Is she asleep?” I asked as he came down the stairs.
“No. Wide awake,” he answered.
We both waited for the renewed screaming. But it never came. Instead, the wonderful realization began to dawn: you fell asleep. On your own.
I wondered if it would be a momentary victory. Maybe once we got home, you’d cry again the moment we headed toward the door. But instead, you’ve gone to sleep by yourself every single night since then. And naptime too. Our bedtime routine used to take a half hour or more sometimes. Now, I just sing you one song, kiss your forehead, place you in your crib, and walk out. I don’t even have to step around the creaky spots in the hardwoods, because I don’t have to sneak away. You watch me leave, then you sleep. IT’S GLORIOUS!
Oh sweet girl, I have enjoyed reflecting back on your birth today. I read my old blog entries, looked at old pictures of you, and relived those moments over and over. But I’ve also been looking forward too. I wish there were some way I could express to you how wonderful you are, how much happiness you bring to my life, and how thankful I am for the last year. You are an inextricable part of my soul, and I can’t wait for another year of adventures with you and your Daddy.
…I was exchanging emails with friends about how to notify them when Camille was born.
…I had a belly full of baby! That belly also proudly wore my “I voted” sticker. My wedding rings were on a necklace because my poor body was so swollen.
…The wife of a friend was in labor and we were jealous.
…We were only hours from beginning a huge adventure.
…I had no idea how sweet, adorable, and absolutely precious my baby would be. And how much I would LOVE her. In all capital letters.
Last night, I finished the 6th Harry Potter book (again), choking back tears (again) when I got to the tragic ending. Lee and I watched the new movie last week, which helped me recap the 5th book. Now, I feel prepared for book #7. I’m ready and waiting.
I enjoyed the latest movie, although I enjoyed the book much more. The last couple of books have grown darker and more complicated, and the movies just can’t get as deep into the issues, characters and relationships as the books can. This last movie just scraped the surface. I still liked it, but I’m glad I read the book too to help me fill in the gaps.
Side note – I freak out every time I see a picture of Daniel Radcliffe as any character other than Harry Potter. I don’t even like seeing him photographed as himself. I came across a photo of him in a magazine just last week. He was wearing a leather vest over his bare chest, with his hair spiked, giving the camera a menacing glare that seemed very un-Potter. I’ve avoided all photos from the theater role he had earlier in the year where he appeared on stage naked. That is just WRONG! You would totally get expelled from Hogwarts for that. One day, when the last Harry Potter movie has been made, maybe I’ll be ready to see Daniel Radcliffe as something other than Harry. But until then, it’s his face I see when I read my beloved books, and I just will not accept my Harry Potter in any other role for now.
Unless Amazon.com fails me, the new book will arrive at my door on Saturday – just in time for Camille’s birthday party! Maybe all the kids will want to sit around and let me read Harry Potter aloud to them! But I doubt it…
