I shouldn’t be blogging. I should be sleeping. My alarm is going off at 4 a.m., but I have a feeling I won’t fall asleep quickly tonight. I’M TOO EXCITED.
Tomorrow, we’re heading to Portland to see Anna and Jason and baby-Polly-in-the-belly. It has been about a year since I last saw Anna, when she surprised me by coming to town for my baby shower. The last time I saw Jason was at Erin and Dave’s wedding. It has been far too long and I miss them so much. And I can’t wait to introduce Camille to them.
I’m also not going to sleep well because I’ll be going through a mental list of everything I’ve packed, and trying desperately to think of what I’ve surely forgotten to pack. Lee keeps reminding me that we’re not going to a desert – they have stores in Portland where you can buy things if you forget things.
So my biggest obsession is to be sure I have everything Camille will need on the plane, because while they have SkyMall magazine, I don’t think I can buy a can of formula and have it delivered mid-air. Or a toy. Or a blanket. Or some tylenol or orajel if she starts screaming.
I’m very curious to see how this whole flying thing is going to go. Camille is usually a pretty easy-going baby, but this is new territory. I’ve already braced myself for the stares we’re likely to get coming down the plane aisle as people silently pray, “please don’t sit by me. Please don’t sit by me.” I hope Camille proves them all wrong and is an angel. But I can’t help but fear the opposite. It could be a very long flight.
I also wonder how the time change will affect her schedule. And subsequently, my schedule. Will she stick to her east coast routine, going to sleep at 5 p.m. pacific time, and getting up at 3 a.m.? We shall soon see!
I’ve been packing for several days now, and Camille has been helping by trying to climb into the suitcase. I keep assuring her she gets to ride in the plane with us and doesn’t have to get into the luggage, but she has her doubts.
Despite my wariness of the potential pitfalls of traveling with a baby, I can’t wait to start the trip. It’ll be great to be with such good friends again.
I was looking through some of my photos. Who’s so big?
That was then:
This is now:
Same hat. Much bigger girl!
The promotion I got earlier this year came with an unwelcome side effect – more travel. Not “Hawaii on the company dime” kind of travel, but frequent 2 hour car trips, or occasional overnights within the state.
I have an ipod, but it had been collecting dust for a while because my daily commute wasn’t long enough to warrant its use. And on long car trips, Lee’s ipod was always full and charged and ready to go.
But recently, I decided to brush off the old ipod and give her another try. Now, she is an integral part of my trips, but not because of the fun music I’ve loaded onto the player. Because of podcasts. Sweet, sweet podcasts.
I now subscribe to several podcasts on itunes (for free!), and while I still don’t enjoy these mundane road trips, I do look forward to the opportunity to listen to my podcasts. Back in the day, I enjoyed listening to books on tape, but they’re so long and could be a little dangerous for me. I got so involved with the books, that one time I ran out of gas on the side of a Macon road because I’d been so engrossed in the story I hadn’t realized the gas light was on. For a long time. So I had to hike to the gas station because I was too chicken to get in the car with any of the multiple passersby who stopped to offer help. They could be murderers. I’d settle for the blisters forming on my feet instead.
Anyway, podcasts are great because they can be quite good and entertaining, but not as lengthy as a book. One of my absolute favorites is NPR’s “This American Life.” It’s so good. It’s sit-in-your-driveway-so-you-don’t-miss-anything good. The radio show producers use each episode to focus on a different aspect of american life – and especially on the interesting people who live it. It’s very well done, and even though I’m a relatively new listener, I’m a devoted fan. Passionate fan. Total aficionado. If someone told me they didn’t like this show, we would fight. With fists.
I also really love listening to Delta Park Project, Jason and Anna’s podcast. Not only is it a fun podcast, it makes me feel a little closer to my two good friends. I still haven’t gotten over their move to the northwest, but at least while I’m listening to the podcast, it’s like they’re in the car with me.
I also enjoy Anna and Jason’s Lost podcast, and the official Lost podcast. They help me decipher each episode of my favorite TV show.
In addition to my ipod and podcasts, my other new travel tool is… I hate to admit… a bluetooth earpiece for my phone.
I know lots of people who have these earpieces, and that’s fine – but I have always regarded them with a pious disdain. I mean, it’s enough that I always have my cell phone with me. Do I really need it IN MY EAR? AT ALL TIMES? Just in case I get a call and it would take me an extra 10 seconds to fish the phone out of my purse? Horrors!
People with these bluetooth earpieces not only look self-important to me, they also often look absolutely insane. I was in the grocery store recently on the chip aisle, when an older woman was trying to select a bag of chips. I was shocked, and tried politely not to stare, when she began talking to the racks of chips.
“There are just so many different kinds. I mean, do I want the barbecue chips? I don’t know, the sour cream and onion look good. No trans fats for either of them. But oh, there are these salt and vinegar, I just don’t know.”
Poor, poor senile old woman.
Then she turned around and I could see the earpiece flashing in her ear. I guess I just wasn’t expecting a bluetooth granny.
But now that I’m on the road, I’m still on the phone a lot for work. The earpiece gives me the freedom to talk without taking my hand off the wheel. Georgia’s roads are decidely safer.
I’ve also found it handy when I’m waiting on an important phone call while at home alone with Camille. It’s hard to wrangle an increasingly mobile baby and hold a phone at the same time. But now, I can devote both hands to her while I explain to the nurse on the phone why we need more antibiotic. Camille doesn’t seem to suspect that I’m talking to myself or anything, so that’s good.
Anyway, even though I’m not thrilled to be driving so much more, the podcasts and bluetooth are little silver linings along the way.
Didn’t she just start crawling?
I think crawling gave Camille a little taste of independence, and the confidence to try something even more grand. Sunday, she pulled up to a standing position for the first time by herself.
She’d been working on the technique for a few days, and would get awfully close before those socked feet would slide out from under her (darn hardwood floors!) or she’d get distracted and give up. But Sunday, as she crawled sockless around the living room and foyer, she was finally able to pull up by herself. On my legs, no less.
But that wasn’t enough. My legs happened to be propped on our stairs, so she immediately started trying to climb them. One thing at a time please!
Lee got this video as she persisted at the foot of the stairs.
Last night, our poor little angel had a rough night. I think it was due to her ear infections. During one of her wee-hour screaming fits, I opened her door to find her standing in her crib, rattling her bars like a caged animal. If I thought seeing her sitting up in bed was a shocker, this was much worse. And again, she wasn’t so keen on lying back down. I felt so sorry for her.
Today, I took down her crib mobile. It had hung over the side of her crib since before she was born. Sometimes, it helped her go to sleep. Other times, she simply enjoyed watching the lion and the leaves twirling around overhead. But last night, as she stood in her crib, I realized she could have jerked it down if she wanted. It was time to retire the mobile.
When I put her to bed a few moments ago and walked out the door, I looked back at her like I always do. I like to see the curve of her little body, relaxed on her mattress, one foot often up on a bumper. It looked a little strange not seeing the mobile hanging overhead. She’s so big. I think she’ll probably be walking by breakfast, driving by Saturday, and heading off to college the middle of next week. That’s why I’ll try to eat her up every minute.
Tonight we introduced Camille to one of our favorite Savannah pastimes – Sand Gnats baseball. She donned her Cincinnati Reds baseball cap and we strolled through Daffin Park over to Grayson stadium to meet another family for the Sand Gnats’ Monday special: $2 tickets, $2 hot dogs, $2 nachos, $2 beer, $2 cokes.
I have no idea if the gnats were winning or losing because I didn’t pay much attention to the game. But the weather was great, we saw new and old friends, and Miss Camille seemed to enjoy herself. She was the cutest Gnat for sure.
The weather has turned quite warm, so Lee and I felt today’s blue skies created a perfect opportunity to give Camille her first real taste of Tybee Island. We found a fantastic parking spot, and snagged a stretch of sand not too close to all the Bocce ball players to set up our umbrella and blanket. And as promised, I brought sunscreen this time.
The breeze was wonderful, and as luck would have it, dolphins were swimming by just off shore. I showed them to Camille, but I don’t think she was very intersted. Yet. One day, I’m sure the sight of them will be as magical to her as it still is to me.
She didn’t stay on our blanket for long. Camille enjoyed rubbing her hands in the moist sand, and – of course – getting a real taste of Tybee as seen in this video:
I’d been told to let her eat some sand, because after her first experience with it she’d learn her lesson and realize it’s not edible. Someone forgot to tell Cami though, because she managed to get four or five mouthfuls down. Exfoliation from the inside-out.
She enjoyed crawling around on the beach, with me close behind of course. I’d never thought about how many tiny shells are strewn about, and she was interested in tasting all of those too, so I had to be vigilant.
We put her little sandy toes in the water, but I think it was still too cold to be enjoyable. But she definitely seemed to give the beach a general thumbs up, and I look forward to taking her back there soon.
It was just one night. Slightly over 24 hours. But it was more difficult than I thought it would be.
I traveled to Athens this week for a meeting, and had to spend one night there. I’ve had several such work meetings around the state recently, and I’ve always dragged Lee and Camille along on any overnights. And while I have liked having them with me, it was becoming increasingly hard on them make the trip. Camille’s not interested in just sitting in the hotel room, and Lee has work to do too.
So for this trip, we decided I would wing it solo. I was okay with this decision even though I knew I’d miss them. I was looking forward to visiting with Nikki, Andrew, Nia and Nate, and being “off-duty” for a full night of sleep. And I forgot how easy it is to pack for just one adult. When we take Camille, we have to begin packing days in advance, and the car is stuffed from floorboard to roof with the pack-n-play, clothes, food and toys. Out of habit, I grabbed a big suitcase, and realized how empty it was with just my pajamas and clothes for one day.
But leaving was really hard. Camille was still not feeling well, and I always worry about her even more than usual when she’s sick. I knew I’d only be gone one night and I completely trust Lee to take wonderful care of her. But I’d never been so physically far away either. If something happened, if she and Lee needed me, I couldn’t just come running. I’d be back as quickly as I could, but it would take time.
Visiting with the Valleses was great, and hanging out with them helped ease my homesickness. But I still found myself scooping up the kids and cuddling them close because my arms were missing Camille very much. As Nia and I watched a cartoon before she went to bed, I even asked her, “Can I hold you like a baby? I miss my baby Cami.” She sweetly obliged.
After the kids went to bed, Nikki and I went to grab a drink. It felt strange, strolling in the restaurant and heading straight for the bar. The bartender asked what we wanted, and we had no clue. It had been a long time since either of us had ventured out like that.
But soon, I settled in to my crown and coke, and enjoyed talking with Nikki. I miss her.
Later that night, alone in my hotel room, it was impossible to push away the homesick feeling. I missed my husband, and I missed our little girl. And thanks to her cold (or whatever ailment it is this time), she wasn’t sleeping well. All night, I kept waking up to look at the alarm clock, wondering how they were doing. I know how hard it can be when she won’t sleep, how quickly you become exhausted. But Lee and I always tackle these tough nights together. It’s easier to parent when you’re part of a team, and I didn’t like being away from my teammate.
The next day, my meeting was fine but really seemed to drag toward the end. I’m sure that’s just because I was constantly looking at my watch, ready to bolt for the door to start the 4 hour drive.
When I finally arrived home, it was wonderful to open the front door to see Lee and Cami on the couch. Camille was in her pajamas, drinking her nighttime bottle. She was sleepy, but happy to see me and chatted for a little bit to tell me all about the adventures she had with Daddy before finishing her bottle and going to bed. It was great to see Lee, to sit beside him and hear all about his day.
And while I know I’ll have to travel again, I can’t deny how peaceful it felt to come home, and to have the team back together again.
When I picked her up to get her ready for a bath last night, Camille felt a little warm. I didn’t want to take her temperature, tired of discovering yet another fever, but I had to know. Sure enough, her temp was up. Again.
It was a month ago that Camille got sick with norovirus. Just when she seemed to make a recovery, adnovirus moved in. This weekend, Cami finally appeared healthy again. Then last night – fever and a nasty cough.
She (therefore, we) were up much of the night from 3 a.m. on. Each time she’d begin to fall asleep, the coughing would wake her up.
I feel so sorry for her. And I’m frustrated. I can think of a couple of reasons why this is mostly my fault, of course. Because guilt is something I do very well.
Not only has this been hard on Camille and hard on our sleep, but it’s been hard on work for both Lee and I. We can’t (and wouldn’t want to) send her to daycare when she’s sick, so this last month we’ve been trying to juggle our schedules and take turns caring for her at home. I’d guess she’s probably been out of daycare more in the last month than in it – which is nice theoretically, except work doesn’t stop just because she’s sick.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to take a sick day to stay home with her today. It’s Confederate Memorial Day – I can’t believe it exists, and I can’t believe I have the “holiday” off.
I talked with the nurse at my pediatrician’s office this afternoon, and she didn’t seem too concerned. The fever isn’t particularly high, so she said just to give her tylenol. She gave us some suggestions for helping ease the cough, too.
As I was thinking about all these illnesses, I made a list. You know your child has been having a rough time when:
-You call the doctor, and the receptionist actually moans and says, “Please tell me Camille is not sick again.”
-When a different receptionist asks your child’s birthdate (their method for looking up records), you tell her. Then she apologizes, “I’m sorry, I knew that. I don’t know why I asked.”
-Your child is only 9 months old and knows the tylenol drill. I used to have to hold her arms down and struggle to get the medicine dropper in her mouth. I don’t think she particularly likes it, but when she sees me with the bottle now she resigns herself to the inevitable and opens wide. She knows it takes 2 squirts, so after the first swallow she opens again for the second one.
-Your child is trained to have her temperature taken. This afternoon, when Camille saw me pull out the thermometer, I swear she raised her arm so I could put it under her arm. She sat there while the thermometer did its thing, then when it beeped, she raised her arm again so I could remove it. These motions could’ve been coincidental, or she could just be incredibly helpful.
I just hope she feels better soon. Forget my embarrassment about calling the doctor’s office AGAIN. Forget my workload piling up. None of that is as important as seeing Camille healthy again.
I’ve been debating several options, but I can’t think of a better solution. I don’t like it, but today I moved all of Luca’s things to our sun porch. That’s where she is now. That’s where she’ll be tonight, and for the foreseeable future.
About a week ago, she bit Camille. I thought surely it would happen during one of those times when Camille was pulling at her whiskers or grabbing her tail, but that wasn’t the case at all. Cami was sitting in my lap, happily slapping her open palm on our couch, enjoying the noise. Luca was sitting nearby, and found that baby hand too tempting. So she lept forward and bit Cami’s wrist. Lee saw it all happening, and launched the cat across the room before she could do any damage. But at that moment I knew we’d have to start really looking for other options for Luca.
I began asking around to see if anyone would be willing to give Luca a more suitable home. Meanwhile, I tried to limit the direct contact Luca had with Camille. This morning, I wanted to put Camille on our living room rug so she could crawl around, but Luca was lying there. So I made Luca move. This didn’t please her.
I sat Camille on the floor, and almost immediately, Luca dove for her and starting biting her arm. I intervened immediately – I’m not sure now what I did, maybe I screamed, lunged, both. But it scared Luca away, and I had to chase her around the dining room table a few times before I got her by the scruff of her neck and threw her into the laundry room and locked the door. Thankfully, she didn’t hurt Camille. But, shaking and seething, I knew that was the final straw.
When I was in college, I had a roommate with a little frou frou dog that Luca loved to take out her frustrations on. If, for example, I fussed at Luca for being on the countertops, she’d immediately go looking for the little dog. When she found it, she’d give it a nasty swat. She didn’t appreciate being admonished, but it made her feel better to assert her dominance over something else.
Apparently, Camille is now that “something else.” And that’s unacceptable. I hoped that somehow Luca would respect Camille, but that’s obviously not the case. And won’t ever be.
Now that I’ve had some time to calm down, I feel a little bad for Luca. She’s lived inside with me for 10 years, but now she’s been evicted. I can’t let her just be an outside cat because she doesn’t have her front claws. She’d be defenseless in a neighborhood full of strays. So instead, she’s been sent to the sun porch to spend her days and nights alone. I will try to spend some time with her, but it won’t be the same.
But she didn’t leave me many options. She only left me with a clear understanding that she can’t be trusted with Camille. And that’s the bottom line.
Happy 9 month birthday, sweet pea! Just as in previous months, you are doing so much more now than you were just 4 weeks ago — but the major difference this time is that I think you’re beginning to realize just how much you can do. Your ability to crawl has opened up whole new possibilities for you. Until now, you’ve had to rely on someone to taxi you from one spot to another, from one activity to the next. We’d have to hand you toy after toy, or a bottle, or a banana puff while you sat patiently (or sometimes impatiently) for us to figure out what you wanted.
But now, you can decide where you want to go and what you want to grab – until Mommy or Daddy steers you elsewhere. It is so much fun to sit back and just watch as your own initiative and independence kick in.
And over the last couple of weeks, I’ve often called you The Dismantler. Why? Because with your newfound freedom, I’ve discovered that your favorite thing to do is dismantle things.
One of the first times you began crawling around your room, you headed straight for the cabinet where your stereo sits. I thought you might be attracted by the blinking indicator lights on the stereo where your John Denver/Muppets tape was playing, but instead, you reached right for the stack of CDs beside it. One by one, you pulled down a CD case, inspected it, tasted it, and set it aside. Except Rachmaninoff. You kept that one in your left hand the whole time while your right was busy sampling new CDs.
On the floor in the living room, you headed straight for our bookcase, where you proceeded to snatch the Handyman magazine from the bottom shelf and shred the cover. And eat it.
Sometimes, I also call you my little goat. I think shredding and eating paper might be your second favorite thing to do.
Then you crawled to our TV cabinet and started pulling our DVDs off the shelf.
I can’t explain how much fun it is to observe you. I guess after all these months of assuming I knew what entertained you, it’s fascinating to watch as you teach me about what is really entertaining to you.
Although, all this exploration on your part means that taking you places has become much more complicated. Just the other day, I packed my lunch and took you to Daffin park. Previously, I could sit you on the blanket, surround you with some toys, and you’d play happily while watching the other children on the playground.
But the second your little body hit the blanket, you started crawling toward the edge. And before I could even unpack my sandwich, I was retrieving you from the blanket’s corner where you were busy sticking your hand in the sand and lifting it to your lips. I know you need to have the experience of getting filthy and playing in the dirt, but I’m just not ready for it. I had to systematically feed you banana puffs to keep you still long enough for me to gobble my lunch.
You’ve also learned how to sit up on your own. Until recently, you could stay seated if I placed you in a sitting position. But now, you can sit up by yourself. You enjoy this new ability immensely, but I find it a little disturbing during the night.
Before, if you’d wake up in the middle of the night crying I’d go into your room to soothe you, and you’d be lying there in bed ready for me to pop in a pacifier and rub your cheek for a minute. So I was stunned the other night when I cracked open the door to see you sitting up, looking at me. You looked so … big. And AWAKE. I couldn’t just rub your cheek. I had to convince you that you actually wanted to lie down. Which you didn’t.
We’ve lowered your crib mattress. You big girl!
This new independence has also come with a new vocalization in the form of the most blood-curdling-yet-somehow-adorable squeal. It’s not a cry you make when you’re really hurt or upset or hungry or tired. It’s a squeal you make when you want to boss us around or if you aren’t getting your way. Because for the first time, I think you’ve really begun to realize you have a WAY. And we should follow it.
I took this picture earlier tonight when I was feeding you dinner. I snapped it when you were mid-squeal just after you slammed your open palms on the tray. This was a happy squeal – the kind you unleash when you’re trying to get across a point but you’re still in a good mood. You were trying to tell me to either give you a banana puff or get you out of the highchair.
But earlier, when your Daddy made you let go of the vacuum cleaner cord, you let out an angry squeal. So loud. So angry! And I couldn’t stop laughing at you, which you didn’t seem to appreciate. I was clearly not taking you seriously.
Unfortunately, this has also been a month of viruses. Norovirus and Adnovirus are new four letter words in my book. I’m so sorry you’ve been sick – and thank you for being such a sweet baby despite your fevers and aches and pains.
But thankfully, you had enough healthy days to try a very important dish. And I’m proud to say, you are a true southern belle.
After your first bite of my cheese grits, your eyes lit up and you crawled over for more.
Even though we had all those sick days, it’s been a great month little sunshine. And I’m so glad that despite all your new independence, you still love to be cuddled. Yesterday I was busy with something in your room and you were crawling around nearby, when you crawled toward me and just rested your head on my leg. As if to say, “Hi. Don’t mind me. Just wanted to be close.” Me too, baby. Me too. I love you very much, little Goat Dismantler Cuddlybear.
