It may look like Camille and I are just snuggling on the sofa, but that’s not all. As it turns out, Camille is a big fan of Wheel of Fortune too, which is what we were watching a few weeks ago when Lee snapped this photo.
Our sweet girl has discovered TV. I never realized how often we have the television on, but it has become like background noise. Always on, even though I’m not always watching.
But one day, as Lee and I were playing with Camille in the living room, she kept turning her head and craning her neck to see the TV screen. Sometimes, if the TV is on but we won’t let her face it to watch, she’ll fidget and even start fussing.
I’m trying to decide how I feel about this. I don’t want her to be a TV junkie who won’t go outside and play because another Smurfs cartoon is coming on. Do the Smurfs even come on anymore? Maybe it’ll be Dora the Explorer instead that keeps her glued to the tube. I don’t think some TV is bad for kids. I just don’t want her to watch a lot of TV.
At this point in her development, I imagine our big TV is like the brightest mobile she’s ever seen. All the colors and shapes swim across the screen, and I can understand why that would seem captivating.
But if I let her watch TV now, then I’m setting a precedent. I don’t want to suddenly decide when she’s 2 years old that she watches too much TV and take it away. That could be confusing.
So for now, Lee and I have curbed much of our TV usage while she’s awake. We’ll Tivo our favorite shows and watch them in the evenings after she’s in bed. Every now and then, I’ll watch a little bit with her if I just really need a break and want to chill out for a minute. Like the Wheel of Fortune moment above.
And hey – maybe if she watches enough Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy, she’ll be a crossword puzzle and trivia master one day.
As we crested Lexington Highway where the road spills into downtown Athens, I felt like I was coasting through a 3-D version of the memories in my mind. It had been so long since I’d seen Athens, really seen Athens, and it was just as I remembered – except with a few more chain stores on the outskirts of town.
Everywhere I looked, an old memory returned. Many of them were small and insignificant. That was the restaurant where I dropped my slice of pizza on the floor. Over there was the coffee shop where I loved to study because they had a garage door for a wall and they’d leave it open to the breeze. Some of the clubs, restaurants and bars had changed, but many were still the same, down to Adams Optics and The Grill.
We checked into our hotel, and had a few hours before my mom and dad arrived. Lee and I walked downtown with Cami to get a picture of her on top of one of the bulldog statues.
We also had to show her the famous arch leading onto North Campus.
As we approached the arch, I saw light pouring from a lighting kit that belonged to a news crew. A few steps closer, and I could see the reporter preparing for the live shot with a cameraman and a couple other people fiddling with cords and wires. I was trying to decide if it was a crew from Atlanta or Toccoa, when Lee pointed out what should’ve been obvious – these were students with the University’s NewsSource 15 show. It had been my show when I was a senior – we had named the darn thing (although I voted for NewsCenter 15)! I remembered being just as nervous as she looked, thumbing through scripts and trying to get under control. They had all their gear piled high on a little golf-cart type vehicle, and I really had to work hard to resist the urge to say something to them. I knew what would come out of my mouth.
“I used to be a student here and I was on NewsSource. Back in my day, we didn’t have these fancy cars. We had to drag our gear onto the campus busses to get to our stories and live shots. You kids don’t even know how good you have it.”
But that would’ve made me sound insufferably old and cranky, so I just smiled and walked on by. Although I really wanted to wave to my old professor through the camera and put Cami’s face up in front of the lens. I restrained. But oh how seeing that crew brought me back.
The whole weekend was like that. We saw some old friends, drove by some old haunts, and reconnected with the town we loved. We walked around Junkman’s Daughter’s Brother, the store that still smells like hippies. We drove past Russell Hall, where I’d visited Lee when he lived there as a freshman. Next door was my freshman dorm, where I buried several hamster babies in the dirt outside my window. We visited the bookstore right outside Sanford stadium (where I wanted to buy everything that had the Georgia “G” on it because I was feeling so enamored with my alma mater.) Walking through the Tate Center was like another set of flashbacks. The computer room where I registered for classes on a system so old it would take hours. The atrium where I watched the OJ verdict come down. The cafeteria where I had breakfast with Vince Dooley and told him how badly the Equestrian Team needed varsity status.
I think Lee had the most jarringly wonderful flashback though. While my mom and I went shopping, he took a walk around North Campus and visited the art school. He checked out one of the senior exhibits, in which the student had applied stitching to old dropcloths from the art studio. There, on one of the dropcloths, was a test screen print Lee had done while a student there. He had to look twice because he was so surprised to see it, but it was unmistakably his artwork behind her stitches.
It’s a good time of year to be in Athens, too. In Savannah, fall doesn’t come with much color because live oaks and palm trees stay green. But in Athens, the leaves are all golden, orange, yellow or red, and just beautiful.
We also enjoyed spending time with my parents, who I suspect were way more excited to see Camille than to tour town. I’m not sure they even knew they were in Athens. They just knew they were in Camiville. They were sweet enough to watch her during the evenings so Lee and I could go to dinner with friends one night, and catch a movie the next.
The weekend went by much too quickly, and there are still several things I’d like to do. Fortunately, we’ll be back next month for a conference, so we’ll get to see more.
I felt young, being back in my college town – but somehow old at the same time. But old isn’t necessarily bad. I felt quite proud to be walking through the streets of Athens, holding hands with my husband, showing our precious new baby around one of my favorite towns.
What a cutiepie! Camille was a pea in a pod for Halloween. I spent all day calling her my little pea pod, and just melted as soon as I slipped the fuzzy green costume over her head. I’m not sure what she thought of it. The head piece looked a little uncomfortable because it was too tight. Yeah, so the costume is for infants up to 9 months, but the designers didn’t count on such cute, chubby cheeks. The bottom part looked more comfy, but a little on the warm side for an 80 degree Halloween day.
Even though she was only in costume tonight, she was dressed for the occasion all day in an outfit from Aunt Carol. She gave it to her back in September when we stayed at her home one night. There, on our bed, she’d left a gift bag. The card stated the simple truth, “Sorry Lee and Ginger, it’s not about you anymore.” Camille’s new Halloween outfit was inside.
Poor Cami was only able to greet a couple of trick-or-treaters. I blame that squarely on whoever thinks we still need to switch back and forth between daylight savings time and regular time. BABIES CANNOT READ CLOCKS. We are no longer an agricultural society, and I think it is time we embrace that notion and stop fooling with the clock. It was already hard enough to keep Camille awake until 8 p.m. Now, we struggle for 7 – because to her, that’s really 8.
So we were able to snap this one picture of her at the door with a pair of supercute trick-or-treaters. She was precious, leaning against me as if to say, “Mom, I’m not sure about these people at the door all dressed up. I’m sticking close to you.” In reality, she was probably saying, “Mom, I just learned to hold my head up and you’re walking around holding me with just one arm. I’m going to lean into you so I don’t fall and bonk my head on the floor.”
I look forward to taking her trick-or-treating some day. Maybe by then, she’ll be able to hold her little pea pod eyes open past 7 p.m.
Hello sweet girl. You’re sleeping soundly in your crib, worn out after a big day of playing. I wanted to write to tell you about a special thing that happened today.
To you, it was not a big moment. As we walked over the boardwalk and across the sand dunes, you were probably more concerned with the sun in your eyes than with that huge, enormous, noisy expanse of water stretching out in front of you. But to me, it was a very special event.
We took you to Tybee Island today, for your very first visit to the beach (extra-utero). Trent is in town, and we wanted to eat lunch at North Beach Grill, one of our favorite Tybee dives.
The food was good as usual, and you were mostly content as long as one of us held you.
Your Daddy and I took turns. You enjoyed sitting up on our laps, with your feet pushing against the table. Your little legs are getting so strong – you love trying to stand and jump.
When we finished eating, we crossed the parking lot and headed for the beach. As we neared the end of the boardwalk, I was actually tingling a bit as I thought about the moment- I know, your mom is a little dramatic.
It’s hard for me to explain, but one day I think you’ll understand. The ocean is just such an incredible thing. It’s an entire universe of water, sand, and creatures, always in motion. It can be beautiful one day; grey and moody the next. It can be soothing or terrifying. It’s so large, its waves can caress several continents at once. It is always amazing.
As a child, I loved the ocean. When we would vacation on the coast, I could spend day after day in the water and the sand. Every night, I’d be exhausted, but satisfied. I remember lying down in bed and closing my eyes, still feeling like the water was moving beneath me.
As an adult, I still love the ocean. When we drive across the Lazaretto Bridge onto Tybee Island, I like to take a deep breath and smell the salt in the air.
I know there are many, many people who have never seen the ocean. I think that’s sad. I hope the beach will be one of your most-loved playgrounds, and a frequent backdrop of your favorite childhood memories.
Cami, I’m sorry I don’t have a better picture of your first visit to the beach. It was an absolutely gorgeous day, with a bright sun warming the air so well we had to take off your jacket and fleecy pants. We ate beneath the shade of an umbrella at the restaurant, but as we walked toward the ocean, I became terrified that you would get a sunburn.
The sun’s rays were surely more like fiery lightening bolts from Zeus himself, ready to turn your super-soft baby skin into a sunburned, peeling, haven for skin cancer. I tried to cover you with a burp cloth, but the whipping wind was spoiling my efforts.
I was too preoccupied with any potential sunburn to actually pose for a picture. In retrospect, I’m sure we would have all likely survived even if I had abandoned my burp-cloth-cover-up quest for a minute or two to take a good picture. But I just couldn’t bear the thought. I did, however, pause for the briefest of moments to watch the sea breeze lift your hair, and listen to the waves curling along the sand. You didn’t understand the magnitude of the moment, but I think you still enjoyed it. And I hope we’ll have many opportunities for good beach photos as you get older. And next time, I’ll bring the sunscreen.
About halfway through yesterday’s Georgia – Florida game, I had a talk with Camille.
Me: Cami, sometimes, when your team isn’t having a good season, and they’re getting clobbered, you have to put on your uniform and cheer anyway. That’s called loyalty.
Cami: [silence. sucks on the pacifier.]
When my alarm went off yesterday morning and I reached out from under the covers to hit the snooze button, I was shocked at how cold it was in our house. Usually, I love this feeling. I’ll pull my arm back under the warm coccoon of blankets, curl up a little closer to Lee, and wait for the alarm to sound again.
But this time, I instead felt guilty as I pulled the comforter under my chin.
Little babies aren’t supposed to sleep with blankets, so I knew Miss Camille must be freezing. I wanted to run and grab her from her crib and stick her in bed with us. But at the same time, she’s been sleeping so well and I didn’t want to disturb her. The absolute silence on the baby monitor told me she was either still soundly sleeping – or frozen solid.
Until yesterday, our weather had been fairly warm, with highs often in the mid-80s. Our ceiling fans were still spinning, although the AC was taking a much needed break. Cami was wearing onesies and maybe a pair of socks during the day, with a light sleeper at night. Over the weekend, the air cooled a bit, but was still plenty warm during the day.
Then Monday night/Tuesday morning, the temps dipped into the mid 30s with a light frost. It was quite sudden and a bit shocking to the system. Our older house is quite susceptible to these shifts (the whole zero-insulation thing doesn’t help) and it gets cold inside in a hurry.
After taking a wonderfully scalding-hot shower, I finished getting ready before Cami even stirred. When she finally did, her little hands and feet were like icebergs, although thankfully, the rest of her was pretty warm.
She’d slept in one of her warmest sleepers, and we kept her in it all day. I added a hat and a flannel blanket, too. I was working from home part of the morning while she slept beside me curled up in her boppy pillow on the couch.
Lee and I usually wait until we can’t stand it one more second before we turn on our heater, piling on sweaters during the day and more blankets at night. But when Camille started to wake up from her morning nap, I didn’t want to play with her because that would require taking the blanket off. At that point, I turned the heater on. It’s one thing for Lee and I to get a little cold – but I couldn’t stand the thought of Cami freezing too.
The heater is still not up as much as I might like, because I know this cold snap is temporary. I recall a few years ago, we had the AC going at Thanksgiving. Tomorrow is supposed to be warmer, and the next day warmer still.
But once we welcome winter temps for good, I’ll crank the heat up for Miss Cami. Time to start saving for that gas bill.
Every time I look at this picture, I want to laugh. I hope that doesn’t make me a bad mom.
Alva and Erin were in town this weekend to celebrate Alva’s birthday. Friday night, everyone donned a party hat for this picture, including Camille. Okay, so I have a picture of her where she has a rather pleasant expression on her face. But I like this one! She grew tired of the hat pretty quickly, and announced her displeasure with a nice, loud wail. She’s a very agreeable baby, but on those occasions when she does not agree, she lets us know.
It was a great weekend. Thursday, my mom came to stay with us for one night, and was only too happy to watch Camille all day Friday while Lee worked. They took the first of what I imagine will be many Nana-Cami shopping trips to the mall. Then we had the birthday party Friday night, and Alva and Erin were able to stay until Sunday. They entertained Camille quite well, and vice-versa. She has slept all day today – I think she’s still recovering from all the fun.
Saturday night, we carved a pumpkin and it ROCKS!
It was great, because Alva, Erin and Lee did all the messy work. I’ve always liked the idea of pumpkin carving, but in reality, it kind of grosses me out to stick my hand in it’s head and scrape out the “meat.” All the stringy parts feel like wet hair, and the whole thing seems a little too surgical. But I was able to help carve out the design on the front, and that was fun. We get far more trick-or-treaters here than we did in our old neighborhood, so I hope the carved, lit pumpkin will be a nice welcome sign for all those kids. i would like to say Cami enjoyed her first pumpkin carving, but she was asleep. Maybe next year.
Today, we had a doctor’s appointment for Camille, who now weighs 11 pounds and 15 and a half ounces (can’t we just call it 12 pounds?). While we were in the waiting room, another couple walked in with their newborn girl. She was 6 days old, and at birth, weighed about the same as Cami when she was born. She looked SO TINY sleeping in her infant seat, still so unaware of the world around her. I kept looking from her to Camille, who was sitting up on my lap, holding up her head, and looking all around. I’d been able to tell Camille was growing, but the contrast between Cami and this newborn was startling.
Camille’s appiontment went well – she’s still a wonderfully healthy girl and I’m so glad. And so lucky.
Meanwhile, the weather is really cooling, and tonight, we may have frost and temps in the mid-30s! Time to get out the fleecy pajamas.
I don’t know who deserves more pity – me for my pain and suffering, or Lee because he had to listen to me whine and complain.
I have never liked needles. Wait, that’s an understatement. I don’t even want to be in the same room with a needle. I can look at a syringe and get clammy and weak.
While I was pregnant, I was subjected to many needles – but I could calm myself down by focusing on Camille and reminding myself that the momentary pains were for such a wonderful cause. But now that she’s here, my old needle-phobia is back in a big way.
Tuesday, I got 2 shots. One was my annual flu shot, and the other was a TDaP. I got both mostly for Camille, to keep myself from getting an illness that I could spread to her. I was able to settle my nerves somewhat by focusing on Camille like I did when I was pregnant. The shots themselves weren’t so bad, but after the tetanus shot, the nurse warned, “Be sure to move that arm around a lot so it doesn’t get sore.”
Okay, no problem!
It turned out to be such a big problem. Before I’d even gotten a mile down the road, my arm started aching. All the way home I tried lifting it and rotating it, probably alarming other drivers who surely thought I was having an arm seizure. But despite my calisthenics, I felt my arm growing sorer and sorer.
By the time I crawled under the covers that night, I could no longer lift my arm past my shoulder. Even when I held it still, it ached.
Me: SIGH.
Lee: What’s wrong? (concerned look on his face)
Me: My arm hurts.
He probably felt sympathy for me the first 963 times I told him this. I knew he must be growing tired of hearing it. I tried to lie down and get comfortable, but my arms hurt. Lee tried to drape his arm over me, but I gasped and reminded him, “My arm hurts!”
I was shocked the next morning when I woke up and it hurt even worse. I was beginning to wonder if lockjaw might be preferable. So I moaned and groaned all day, again.
Then yesterday, I had to add major insult to injury. I had a dentist appointment. For a FILLING. I hate needles anyway, but I despise needles aimed at my mouth. As I sat in the chair, waiting for the dentist to come in, I thought, “Run! Nothing is stopping you from running! Just run out that door and never look back!”
But then I reasoned, “Get a filling now, or a root canal later.” That shut me up. The filling was no fun, but I like my dentist and I think he tries to make me as comfortable as possible.
So yesterday, I really felt like a dog with my tail tucked between my legs. I called Lee.
Lee: Hello?
Me: Hi baby.
Lee: You okay?
Me: I think tho. My mouth ith sthill numb.
It took hours for the anesthesia to wear off, so I walked around with two hurt arms and a puffy face. When I went home for lunch, I tried to smile at Camille but the left side of my mouth wasn’t working properly.
Today, my mouth feels better and my arms are feeling much less painful (although the tetanus arm is still a tad sore). I was also supposed to have blood drawn for a test this week, but I put it off until next week. I can only take so much at one time. And most of all, I don’t think Lee could’ve heard me whine about any more needles this week.
Hello sweet angel! You are 3 months old today, and I’m constantly amazed by how quickly you’re growing. Sometimes you still seem like such a little baby, but at other times I look at you lying in your crib or chilling in your swing, and I can’t believe how big you are.
Last week you moved up another diaper size, and this picture is proof of how well you’re growing. When you were born, you wore the smallest diaper. Now you’re in the bigger one on the right:
In this last month, you have begun to smile so much more and it brightens my world every time. You’ve started giving me this look where you’ll smile and stick out your tongue just a little bit, and you’ll drop your chin and look up at me like you’re being shy or coy. It’s precious. I’m melting into a puddle of goo just thinking about it. And you’re beginning to really hold your head up well. Before long, you’ll probably be sitting up on your own.
I still hate leaving you to go to work in the morning, but your Daddy is doing such a good job taking care of you. Sometimes, when you are being especially talkative, Daddy will call me so I can hear you babbling. One day you started really shaking your rattle, and he called me so I could listen. Those phone calls are often the highlight of my work day. He’s so sweet to keep me involved in what you guys are up to, because I miss you both very much.
The weather has finally begun to cool, and it even felt – dare I say – chilly a couple of nights last week. I enjoyed taking you outside and wondering if you noticed the change. Your Nana bought you a Halloween outfit, complete with a ghost hat. You like the outfit, but you’re not too sure about the hat:
One day last week, your Daddy and I took advantage of the nicer weather to go on a picnic. We packed a lunch and strolled you over to Daffin Park. You were so sweet, lying on a blanket, kicking and looking around while we ate.
You’re such a sweet baby, and I know sometimes I aggravate you by covering you in kisses. A dentist I work with warned me after you were born that I shouldn’t kiss you or let other people kiss you, because mouths are so germy. I told him that was just too bad. Sometimes, when I come home from work and hold you, I’ll just kiss you all over your head and chubby cheeks and nose until you’re squirming to get away. But I can’t help myself. You’re just that sweet.
Sleep well my little angel. Your Nana is here and can’t wait to play with you in the morning. Then your Grammy and Aunt Erin are coming to visit, and I know you’ll have fun together. I’m happy to share you, but I’ll still savor each moment I get to cuddle you close, smell your sweet baby scent, nibble your ears and kiss you until you can’t take it anymore.
Thank you for being you, and for all those smiles, coos, and cuddles. I’m so proud of you. Always know you are loved, little girl.
I thought I was prepared. I’d read in several of my books and on websites about post-partum hair loss. During pregnancy, your hair falls out less frequently, which often leads to thicker, more luxurious looking hair. But once your baby is born, all those hairs that have been hanging out for a while start to fall out.
I began noticing a few weeks ago that I was losing more hair in the shower. Then about a week or so ago, I’d find myself holding a fistful of hair after lathering with shampoo, and another fistful after applying conditioner. Hairs would fly as I used the blow-dryer, and I was cleaning out my brush an awful lot.
Getting ready in the morning felt less like styling my hair, and more like grooming an Afghan Hound.
So now, part of my daily ritual includes pulling strands of hair off of Camille, who is usually covered in several and gripping several more. Yesterday, I leaned into her crib to look for her pacifier, and was shocked to find she’d been sleeping in a hairnest. I don’t spend a lot of time leaning into her crib – maybe a few seconds when I put her to bed at night and give her a kiss. So, judging by the amount of hair on the crib sheet (which is in the washing machine right now), I’m losing hair at the rate of 20 strands per nanosecond.
Until today, I’d found the whole thing a little amusing. I mean, it’s all part of having a child, so what good does it do for me to get upset? Instead, I started researching weaving techniques in the hope of making rugs with a never-ending supply of fiber from my head and from the dog and cat.
But this morning – just after I’d crawled around on the bathroom floor with a wad of toilet tissue, gathering all the stray hairs and throwing them away – I took a quick glance in the mirror and gasped. There, on the left side near my part, was a big patch of skin. Nearly hairless.
I am balding.
The good thing about working where I do is that I’m surrounded by medical professionals. Tomorrow, I’m going to ask one of my doctor friends if this amount of hair loss is normal. If not, I’ll be making an appointment with my doctor and a wig shop.
Meanwhile, I consulted one of my trusted websites to see what they had to say on the matter. They assured me it was quite normal, and that my hair would return to pre-pregnancy status by Camille’s first birthday. It’s going to be a long, cold winter for my head.
But of course, the website couldn’t offer reassurance without throwing in a bit of terror. Turns out, my hair loss isn’t just an inconvenience – IT COULD BE A DANGER FOR CAMILLE!
The website states:
“A note to new moms with long hair: Strands of hair can end up tightly wrapped around your baby’s tiny appendages, including his fingers, toes, wrists, ankles, and penis. This is called a “hair tourniquet” and it can be quite painful for your little one. If you find him crying for no apparent reason, check carefully for tight bands of hair.”
Give me a break. This is one thing I’m just not going to worry about. If I notice a “hair tourniquet,” I’ll free her. But I’m not losing sleep over this one.
