Today is one of my favorite days of the year. It’s Lee’s birthday, and he deserves every bit of pampering I could possibly dish out.
After a nice, home-cooked meal complete with our traditional birthday creme brulee, we played a few rounds of tennis, bowling and boxing on his new Nintendo Wii. My arm hurts. Apparently, I’m not a very good boxer.
There are lots of things I want to write about, but it has been an exceptionally busy couple of weeks and hard to find time to blog. But I couldn’t let the day pass without putting in writing how very much I love my sweet husband, and how I enjoy celebrating his birthday. I am so thankful he was born, and that he’s mine.
Hello sweet napping bear. I’m so proud of you! I just put you in your crib for an afternoon snooze, and so far so good. You still don’t really like napping – wait, let me rephrase. You LOVE napping if I’ll put you in our bed and take a nap with you. But napping on your own – not so much fun. You’ve only been asleep 15 minutes, but this is your second crib nap today, so we’re on quite a winning streak.
Yesterday, you, Grammy, Daddy and I went to the mall. Around lunchtime, we grabbed a table at the food court, and once we were finished eating, I tried feeding you some baby food. You sat in a big girl high chair and ate a couple of bites, but were very distracted by the little boy sitting in an identical high chair at the next table. He was a little older than you, but still a baby.
You stared and stared at him, smiling and scrunching up your nose, and he’d ocassionaly glance in your direction. Then, you leaned toward him as far as you could and started making these funny, throaty “oooo oooo” noises. We laughed and laughed until I turned around and realized the little boy was not paying attention.
You continued to “oooo oooo” at him, and he’d look at you every now and then, but didn’t show any real sign of amusement. I felt myself starting to get a little angry. How could he not light up at the mere sight of you? Couldn’t he see that you were trying to say hello? Why wasn’t he saying hello back?
But most of all, I couldn’t stand to think he might make you feel ignored. Might make you feel like you weren’t worthy of his attention. You are such a wonderful, special creature, and I didn’t want him to make you doubt it for one second. I shot him a few nasty looks, but thankfully, you didn’t seem deterred.
But baby girl, if I got that aggravated when this little boy wouldn’t talk to you, what am I going to do when you enter 7th grade and the world of angry little girls? Girls can be so mean and jealous and hateful. There’s always that one who will try to make you feel bad or feel somehow “less than.” Or there may be a boy who hurts your feelings. You might not make the cheerleading squad or get that part in the play. Your science fair project may not get first prize.
Oh sweetie, life is good, but also has disappointments. And I believe most people are good, but some just aren’t nice or thoughtful or caring.
But when I was growing up, for every person who wasn’t nice, I was surrounded by 10 others who were encouraging and kind. I wish that for you, too. If some little girl – who is really acting out of her own feelings of inadequacy – says something mean about you in class, I know it’ll hurt your feelings. But it’s my goal that you’ll always come home to a family who showers you with love, support, and positivity, which will help kiss away those aches. You are such a beautiful soul, worthy of so much love, and don’t you ever forget it.
After we ate, I took you into the restroom for a diaper change. Daddy says while we were gone, the other family cleared their table and left. As they were strolling by, the little boy craned his neck around everyone looking toward your high chair. Looking for you. Ha. You snooze you lose, sucker.
When I was younger, it seemed easier. I might see a girl on the monkey bars at recess, decide to join her for a swing on the rungs, and by the end of the school day we’d be passing notes in class. But making friends as an adult has not been so simple.
Over the past several years, there has been a mass exodus of many of our best friends from Savannah, and it’s been a little lonesome around here. The frustrating thing is that I cross paths with lots of young women every day – women who might make good friends. But how do you approach a stranger without coming across as desperate?
Not too long ago, I was in line at Home Goods and there was a woman in front of me with a baby girl. We started chatting, and were having a nice conversation until her purchase was complete and she pushed her cart out the door. I watched her go and wanted to yell after her, “but wait! Let’s do lunch!”
But I was pretty sure she’d think I was nuts. I mean, what adult just throws herself at other adults for friendship?
When Lee and I take Cami for strolls around our neighborhood, we’ll sometimes pass other strolling couples on the street. We smile, we wave politely, but I have to restrain myself from chasing after them to exchange numbers.
I think I need to print some business cards that are reminiscent of those elementary school days. They’d read something like this:
Would you like to be my friend?
Check one.
Yes. No. Maybe.
And I’d draw little boxes underneath each option.
We put ourselves out there occasionally, but in all fairness, I’m sure we could try harder to turn some of our acquaintances into closer friends. I guess what we really want is to be near our old ones again. Really good friends aren’t easy to find.
Hello, Princess Camille! That’s what I call you when I see the picture of you in your polka-dot dress with your matching beret. So regal. Such a royal highness.
You are 7 months old today, and just full of energy, smiles, and sweetness. I put you to bed just a little while ago, and enjoyed rocking you as you went to sleep. Some of the books/websites I read say I shouldn’t rock you to sleep every night. They say you need to learn how to fall asleep on your own.
Well, too bad!
The tradition began unintentionally. I’d feed you before putting you in bed, and you’d usually fall asleep mid-meal. Instead of trying to avoid that, I find the whole routine to be very peaceful and comforting. As I rock you, I enjoy the weight of you in my arms. I often rest my head on top of yours, and feel the warmth of your skin. Many nights, I’ll doze that way for a moment, lulled by your rhythmic breathing that signals deep sleep. One day, we may have a bedtime battle when you’re too old for the rocking chair. But for now, I don’t care what the baby books say. I like rocking you. You like being rocked. Everyone is happy.
I know I said it last month, but this month you’ve grown so much! Your Daddy and I like to say you are very busy. You are interested in everything around you, and constantly want to see, hear, touch and explore. You could be looking at one thing, waving something else in your left fist, and cramming something else in your mouth with your right hand. All at once.
We took you to a restaurant to meet another couple and their 4 month old girl a couple weeks ago. This was our second meeting, and both times, their baby has slept through the outing. You’ve been awake, very awake, but very happy. The contrast between you and a 4 month old is startling – it’s just amazing how much more alert you are now that you’re older.
You were content to sit in our laps at the table, giving you an opportunity to look around the restaurant and smile at everyone. I’d set a toy in front of you and you’d eagerly pick it up and bang-bang-bang it on the table. Then you’d drop it on the floor, and I’d put it away and pull out a clean toy. Repeat.
When our food came, holding you became more of a challenge because it’s a Mexican restaurant and all the plates are hot. You dangled your sleeve in enchilada sauce twice before I gave up and pushed my plate away until your Daddy could hold you. But neither of us minded the extra effort it took to keep you away from the plates and knives – you were having so much fun and we enjoyed being with such a happy girl. And a very busy girl. Even when you had dropped all your toys and had no clean ones left, you busily waved your arm back and forth in large sweeping arcs across the empty table, as if daring something to get in the way to be snatched up by your eager hands.
You’re sitting up very well now. You still wobble and little and will fall over sometimes as you reach for a toy, so I won’t let you sit without being right there with you to catch you before your head hits the hardwood. But, last week I was very pleased with myself when I discovered the best trick – the box.
I was about to throw out the empty cardboard box your mega-pack of Publix diapers came in, when I decided to try an experiment. I put a blanket in the bottom, tossed some toy blocks in there, and sat you down inside.
You played happily with the blocks, and as I hoped, whenever you’d start to fall over you’d catch yourself against the side of the box. The box was just small enough to keep you from falling over all the way, but large enough to allow room for you to play.
This is great, because I can let you play in your box while I cook dinner or work on straightening up your room. I’m still right there to chat with you and I’ll come over and play with your blocks too, but you get the freedom of sitting up all by yourself.
The last couple of weeks, you’ve been eating like a champ! You spent a week or so pretty much ignoring solid food, but suddenly decided to gobble it up again. Back when you were on your food strike, I’d offer you some peas, and you’d let me feed them to you – only to spit them back at me. This became so regular that I decided one night to feed you while wearing an apron. Smart idea. You and the highchair were still covered in baby food, but I was fairly clean.
Despite the spitting, you still seemed to be having fun, so I continued offering you the food. Now you’re eating marvelously, thank you very much! Soon, I will introduce you to crackers. Fun!
You’ve also begun to grow some more hair this month, especially right on the top of your head. It’s just long enough to hang down over your forehead like a forward comb-over, but not long enough to really style yet. But that didn’t keep me from trying.
The other night, before bath time, I wanted to see if I could use a little lotion to get the long locks on top to make a big curl. I knew if it didn’t work, I could wash it out. It absolutely would not curl, but instead stuck straight up like a little baby mohawk. You just so happened to be wearing your “I’m with the band” tank top, and the combo was adorable!
Such a little rock star.
Camille, thank you for such a fun month. I feel very lucky to be your mother, and to watch you really waking up to your world. Another mom I know has a saying that appears on her emails – one that puts a lump in my throat nearly every time I read it because it’s so true. “I am your mother; you are my child. I am your quiet place; you are my wild.”
For Valentine’s Day, my sweet Valentine gave me yet another toy to add to my photography arsenal. It’s a wide angle lens that can also serve as a macro lens, and it’s too cool.
Before, it was nearly impossible to get a shot of an entire room. Standing in the living room doorway with my old lens, this was the widest shot I could get:
But with my wide angle lens, standing in the exact same spot, I can see this much of the room:
And the macro function lets me take pictures a lot closer too. This is a pic of the Valentine Camille “made” at daycare, taken with my old lens.
From the exact same distance, I could get this much closer and still be in focus with the macro lens:
It’ll be fun to experiment with the new lens, especially on my favorite subject, Miss Camibear. Speaking of, we’ve had a fun weekend. Yesterday, we went to the 100th birthday party for Daffin Park despite the cold, blustery temps. To make sure she was roasty-toasty, I tucked her into a blanket and topped her with a pooh hat. She puts up with so much.
I love taking photos, but was often discouraged because the image I saw with my eyes wasn’t always what ended up on the digital card. Often, lighting was to blame. The built-in flash on my camera delivered a lot of light, but the result was frequently bright-white subjects with harsh shadows and muted colors. I’d try taking the photo again without the flash, hoping just to lighten it a bit in photoshop, but it would come out blurry.
For Christmas, my parents got me an external flash, and it has made such a difference. I can pivot the bulb so that it bounces off the ceiling or walls, thus creating a diffused brightness that seems to lighten the subject just enough without overpowering the photo.
This is one of the first photos I took not long after I got the new flash, and it remains one of my favorites:
Of course I couldn’t go wrong with the subject matter, but I love how the lighting is so soft, allowing all the fine details to come through. The sharpness of her eyes, the softness of her toes.
Colors seem much richer, like these on her playmat:
I feel like the new flash helps me create an intimacy and warmth that was often missing before. And it makes the photography even more rewarding.
I’m very proud of the fact that I breastfeed Camille. Nursing her seems very natural. But, being a working mom means I also have to use a breast pump, and that is decidedly not natural. It’s necessary, I’m glad I have one, but using The Juicer (as Lee lovingly named it) has always has been a little strange to me.
Fortunately, my workplace is pretty conducive. I have an office with a door that locks and windows with blinds. I can turn on my TV and watch the Price is Right while The Juicer does its thing.
But there have been some awkward moments. My office walls are fairly thin, and the pump is a bit loud, making a rhythmic “wonk, wonk, wonk” sound. On several occasions, one coworker has stopped by my office to whisper,
“I heard you pumping.”
What exactly am I supposed to say to that? Congratulations on your auditory accomplishment? I usually just stare back at her in stunned silence. But the next time I pump, I’m woefully aware that she’s just on the other side of wall. Listening. Closely.
This week however, I’ve been presented with some new challenges. I’ve had to take several day trips for work, which meant using The Juicer outside the comfortable confines of my office. I was particularly nervous about my trip today, because I was heading somewhere I’d never before been, so I had no idea if there would be anywhere to pump with privacy.
I needed to pump once during the drive, so I got off the interstate at a rest area, thinking I could park in some far away corner spot. But there was no such spot. The rest area was small and uncomfortably intimate. I pulled into the back, and parked as far away from other vehicles as I could. But I was still very close to several truckers who were wandering around their rigs. It was impossible to relax.
Once finished, I needed to wash the pump, so I took it into the bathroom. But there, posted above each sink, was a hand-scrawled sign that announced, “Non potable water! Do not drink!” I didn’t think it was such a good idea to wash baby’s juicer in water that was unsafe for consumption, so I had to pack it all up and wait to wash it later.
Once at my destination, I had to pump in a ladies restroom. I hung The Juicer on the back of the bathroom stall door. Thankfully, the restroom was empty.
Was empty.
Soon, all the stalls were full, and I was painfully aware of the obnoxious “wonk, wonk, wonk” coming from stall #4. I couldn’t help but wonder what the other occupants were thinking.
I’m glad I’m able to do this for Camille, but on days like today, pumping can be frustrating. Thankfully, Lee is very supportive, and often brings comic relief when I need it most. Like when he turns the funnels around and pretends they’re air horns. Or when he happens to call while I’m pumping.
Me: Hi sweetie.
Lee: Hi! What’cha doing?
Me: Pumping.
Lee: Wonk, wonk, wonk, wonk.
And I just have to laugh.
A couple of days ago, I woke up with this thought in my head: we should move to Darien. I thought about it some more while I got ready for work, and by the time Lee was stirring, I was convinced.
“Lee, the wheels in my head have been turning.”
“Oh no (muffled into his pillow). Make them stop. What is it?”
“We should move to Darien.”
I think it was a little more than he was prepared to tackle before a cup of coffee.
A week ago, I wouldn’t have considered it. We love Savannah very much. But we’ve been growing increasingly restless about our living/working situation. We have a wonderful house, but regrettably, we’re already outgrowing it because we need a proper office space for Lee. Right now he’s set up behind a room divider in the living room, and it’s okay, but not ideal. And when we first moved in, we spent a lot of time, energy (and money) on a complete kitchen overhaul, which is fantastic. But now we’re out of time, energy (and especially money) to make some other needed improvements.
I really don’t think we’ll be moving anywhere anytime soon, but it’s fun to browse our options. Our long term goal is to live on the water – not the beach necessarily, but along one of coastal Georgia’s beautiful rivers framed by live oaks and marsh grass. We want a boat, and we want to launch from our dock and head downstream until we meet the Atlantic. We want a wrap-around porch where we can enjoy a summer breeze off the water. And we want it now.
As Lee browsed some real estate listings, he came across an ad for a waterfront lot on Tolomato Island, near Darien. The picture was beautiful. The lot sat right on a river, with the ocean just a few miles beyond. The price was high – but a fraction of what we’d pay in Chatham County.
I began to envision our dream house on that river. Camille could ride her bike up and down our street. We’d spend our summers on the water, or sitting on our wrap-around porch drinking sweet tea and reading books. Maybe I’d finally write a book! The image grew more and more grand. We’d be close to Savannah, but far enough away to enjoy some of the amenities of small-town life.
I became so hooked on the idea, we decided to pack Miss Camille into the car for the hour-long drive to Darien today to really see what the area is like. I’d been a few times with work, and remembered a really nice spot on a bluff where the locals said you can watch the dolphins swim.
We took the slower, scenic route, which was not nearly as scenic as I’d hoped. It was more like a long stretch of highway with some trees. Like most every stretch of rural highway.
Crossing into McIntosh County, I spotted the road that led to the bluff I’d visited before. But as we drove toward the water, my hopes started to fall a bit. I’d forgotten about all the trailer parks. I’d forgotten about the tiny houses that belonged on a movie set – they appeared too neglected to really be someone’s home.
When we finally reached the bluff, I realized we weren’t going to find the nice spot on the river that existed in my mind. The memory had been better than the reality. The water was pretty, the trees were nice, but the area wasn’t what I’d hoped.
We turned around and headed toward town to find somewhere to eat lunch. That’s when we passed it. There, on the side of the road, was a huge pile of trash bags. It was probably 2 stories tall, and jutting out of the top of the mound of garbage was a big American flag on a flagpole. I wish I’d had the presence of mind to stop and take a picture. Who on earth would think a pile of garbage would be a fitting place for our country’s flag? It was the final straw – Lee and I both agreed this was not the place for us.
We ended up finding a great restaurant and had a wonderful meal. We ate along the banks of a river, with shrimp boats docked along the water’s curving edge for as far as we could see. This was what I had pictured, but I knew it was still not meant for us. The geography was beautiful, and we’d only seen a small portion of the county – but being on the back roads of a rural community reminded me of how much I like living in or near the city.
But the day was not a waste. We finished our meal and took Camille to the dock to let her see the the crane and pigeons and boats, enjoying time spent as a family. Then, we headed home. When we drove into our neighborhood, I felt like I was seeing it with fresh eyes. It’s a wonderful neighborhood, and we are lucky to have a great house here. We still need to find a better office solution for Lee, but we can mark one thing off our list. We’re not moving to Darien.
I looked a little more at real estate tonight, and I found some nice waterfront lots here in Chatham County. There was one that looked perfect, for only $1.5 million… lottery, here I come.
Camille is a quick study, and has figured out that a simple twist of her wrist makes me giddy. She has learned to wave, and it is SO adorable.
I don’t think she understands the social significance of waving. I don’t think she uses it to signal hello or goodbye. But it’s still very endearing. I first noticed it last week when she’d stop eating suddenly and stare at her outstretched arm as her tiny hand moved from side to side. She’d study it, like it was the first time she’d ever seen her hand. She’d eat some more, then stop abruptly again as if she thought, “I wonder if that hand is still there. It is! Mom, have you seen this?” And she’d stare and stare as she rotated her hand like she was turning an invisible doorknob.
She continued doing this all day, and whenever her hand happened to be stretched out in our direction, we’d start smiling and squealing and making a big deal out of how cute she was and we’d wave back.
So now, she waves at everything. Yesterday morning, she waved to the humidifier in her room. Then she waved to Daddy, then kept waving as I carried her down the stairs. Hello mirror on the wall. Hello kitty on the stairs. Hello foyer.
Last night, I had to go to a SCAD basketball game because of a work-related event, and Lee and Cami came too. She sat in the bleachers and waved to the crowd. She is a princess, so maybe she’s practicing her royal wave for her loyal subjects.
She did not, however, wave at the SCAD Bee mascot. I think she was concerned that his costume looked too much like a Georgia Tech Yellow Jacket. Good girl.
Can you believe it, sweet girl? You’re six months old today! Half a year! I can hardly believe that six months ago, you were just 2 hours old. Now, you’re rolling over, sitting up, and making me laugh every day. And your hugs – oh your hugs! I’m melting just thinking of how sweet it is when you wrap your little arms around me and bury your head in my neck.
One of your favorite things to do in the whole wide world is bite noses. But what makes me laugh so hard is how calculated and deliberate your attack is. If I’m sitting on the couch and you’re standing in my lap, you’ll suddenly get this excited look on your face. You’ll reach forward and tightly grab the hair on each side of my head so I can’t escape or dodge your advances. You open your mouth really wide, and slowly lean forward. Carefully. With great purpose. Then you clamp down on my nose. I laugh and laugh, and I’ll try to turn my head but you’ll just start sucking on my eyes, my forehead, my cheeks, whatever is in the path. When I finally pry your hands loose from my hair, my face is completely covered in baby slobber. And I love it. I love it so much that when we’re apart, I find myself thinking about it and looking forward to seeing you again so you can nibble my nose. Oh how you make me smile. I’m not surprised you like to bite faces though, because all I do when I hold you is kiss your face and head. So it’s only natural you think faces are for chewing.
You like to get your Daddy’s face too, almost as much as you like yanking off his glasses.
This has been a wonderful month. Every night, you, your Daddy and I go up into your room and play, and you’re so much fun. You love music, and enjoy watching Daddy play guitar.
He lets you play sometimes too, and you already do very well plucking the strings. Who knows if you’ll enjoy playing music when you get older, but I know you enjoy the time spent with your Daddy right now.
You also like looking at yourself in the mirror – and who could blame you? Every morning, after I get you dressed, I’ll turn you around and let you sit in front of the mirror by your changing table. You always break into the biggest open-mouthed smile.
Your Daddy was trying to take a picture of this yesterday, but you were distracted and wanted to look at him and the camera instead. I understand. He is a very handsome man!
This has also been a hard month. You started going to daycare 3 weeks ago, and it hasn’t been easy. You were so used to being at home where it’s quiet with mom or dad always hovering over you. Daycare is rowdy and loud and sometimes you have to wait your turn, and it will take some time for you to get used to it. I think you do have some fun while you’re there, but every morning when I walk out the door and leave you in that daycare room, my heart aches.
On a more fun note, you’ve been on TV several times this month. Two stations did stories about car seat safety, and they needed video of a baby and a carseat – so I volunteered you! Yesterday, the photographer was getting a shot of me putting you in your seat, and you were sitting very patiently as I buckled the straps. As he zoomed in for a close up on your face, you opened your cute little mouth and spit up. All down your chin and on the buckles I’d just fastened.
I started laughing and the photographer started laughing, so you did too. There you were, with spit up on your face and clothes, laughing and kicking because you were so proud of yourself. We cleaned you up and did a second take. You were a natural little starlet, and the highlight of the story.
Camille, thank you for such a fun month. Each one of your smiles makes me feel like a million bucks, and you share them so often with me that I must be the richest mama on the planet. I love you so much, sweet peanut.
