Days Gone By

As I sit on my living room floor, assembling toys by the fire, accompanied by nature's soundtrack of heavy rain falling on the back deck, I find myself reflecting upon days gone by. Catherine's first Christmas has come and gone and I am once again reminded of how fleeting time is; how it refuses to stand still for even a moment, how it is rushing by me, grabbing my daughter's hand, and teaching her to stand on her own. 

Somehow, a year has passed since my stocking donned a button that read "Future Mom" and my presents were wrapped in pink ribbons instead of red. A year has passed since I received the pink and green mobile that would set the tone for my baby girl's nursery. A year ago, she was an excuse to eat too much dressing and three desserts, a bump under my dress, a nameless daughter, granddaughter, niece, lovingly referred to as Baby Girl, Splash Mountain, and Lil' Sparkle. 

A year later, she sits in my lap in her Christmas pajamas, playing with a purple puppy who knows her name. She stands to play her new piano. She crawls after a dog that walks. She giggles among an avalanche of paper and bows. She grabs ornaments from the lowest branches of the tree and unwraps gifts that don't necessarily belong to her. She is a perfect blend of Husband and me, wide eyed, drinking in the magic of the holiday with a three-toothed smile.

To watch her is simply majestic. To see Christmas morning through her eyes is sublime. 


I know I'll never remember all the details of every day spent with her. I kick myself for not recording every second of our lives, making dvds and photo albums of each passing month, because I know I won't remember exactly how many walks we took or the words to the silly songs I made up at bath time. I know I won't remember the way she screeches and squeals in between "tst, tst, tst" and "da da da" sounds. I won't remember which presents she got each Christmas, but, it is impossible to forget the smile and the laugh that come from this tiny little girl. It is impossible to forget the weight of her in my lap or the sloppiness of her open mouth kiss on my cheek. It is impossible to forget the feeling of joy she brings just by being in the room. 


She is a constant reminder of life's simple pleasures. She is my life's simple pleasure.


This Christmas far surpassed any which preceded. It was better than the time I got a Barbie Dream House and even better than the year we got a puppy. This Christmas, my world revolved around an 18 pound girl in footed pajamas with an affinity for shiny wrapping paper.  And as I watched her soak up the energy of the day, I secretly wished I could wrap her up and keep her little, my perfect ten month old with the three toothed smile.

10 Months Old

Last Christmas, I was pregnant and basking in the glow of expectant motherhood. I couldn't have even imagined what it would be like just one year later... with a 10 month old!

C is crawling with great speed, pulling up on everything, including the dog (much to his dismay), cruising along the couch, and falling about 100 times daily. We're very busy over at the Ryan house. 

We're busy trying to eat dog food and computer cords and wrapping paper. We're busy unwinding toilet paper and spools of ribbon. We're busy eating puffs and Cheerios and bananas and avocados. We're busy standing up in and escaping from the bath tub. We're busy rolling over and crawling away sans diaper. We're busy climbing over and on top of and under things. We're busy babbling and talking and squealing and yelling. We're busy cutting a fourth tooth and drooling... a lot. We're just busy for the sake of being busy.

And we're loving it.

Happy ten months and first Christmas to our sweet baby girl. Let the fun begin!

Ho Ho Ho

I finally carted C to the post office to buy stamps and mail our Christmas cards.

Merry Christmas from the Ryans!

Tango with Me

When you have a baby, you spend your days trying to make them laugh. The thing that made them laugh once might not ever amuse them again. And some things are always funny. So every day, I try to get Catherine to laugh at least once. 

Banks is almost always helpful. She finds him funniest when he is just in from the yard, frisky from the cold air, and jumping around the room. 

Daddy is usually funny. He dances and sings and makes funny faces and funny noises.

Tickling does the trick most of the time. C is the most ticklish under her left arm and on her belly, but is also ticklish on the bottom of her feet. If you get her just right, she'll throw her head back and giggle, mouth open wide, showing off her three (almost four) teeth.

I can usually get a laugh when I make any high pitched noise. This is probably why she finds it so funny to pull my hair, the ow I squeal is all she needs. Sneezes are hilarious.

But, this past week at Kindermusik, we learned a new trick that is funny every time: the tango. With her arm stretched out in front of us, leading the way, we tango around the room repeating with the music, "slow, slow, quick, quick, quick" as we step to the beat. She's learning word associations, but she's also learning the joy of dance.

We practice at home, taking turns dancing around the living room with Mommy then Daddy, laughing and smiling the whole time. Such a simple step, a dance that has been danced for generations, gets a laugh every time.

Husband

Nine years ago, I joined a group of my college freshmen girlfriends for a night out at fraternity row, where I met a cute sophomore boy at the Sigma Chi house. It would take a year for that boy to ask me out and another year between our first and second date, but finally, finally, the stars would align and we would be together. Forever.

On the 10th, we celebrated a very special birthday. My husband, a man I have known for nearly nine years and loved for seven, celebrated his twenty ninth birthday. And, while I know it is selfish, I consider his birthday a gift to me as well. Twenty nine years ago, a baby boy was born who would one day become a man, a husband, a father, and I am infinitely grateful for that day of birth that occurred almost two years before my own.

He's THREE

Honestly, I find it difficult to even begin to express what this man means to me. Husband is smarter than he admits and stronger than he knows. He works tirelessly to provide for our family and allows me to spend my days at home with our sweet girl. He has so many wonderful traits that I hope our daughter will inherit.

I am constantly amazed at his ability to befriend absolutely anyone with his immediate likeability. On our honeymoon, I awoke from a poolside nap to the sound of him leading a group of complete strangers in a "Roll Tide" at the swim up bar. He will inconvenience himself simply to make your life easier and will literally give you the shirt off his back (or the hard drive full of programs from his pocket).  


He is the biggest Alabama fan ever and has somehow managed to sway me from my Auburn roots. Really, that just means I wear crimson on Saturdays instead of orange, but he convinced me nonetheless.


He makes special events special. My gifts pale in comparison to his. When he gives a gift, it is clear that he has put months of thought and effort into it. Our first Christmas together, he gave me custom made shoe racks that he built himself, after measuring my tallest heels to make sure they would fit. And when my 21st birthday celebration was derailed by Hurricane Katrina, he set up a party in my apartment and even made my birthday cake. 

He is an honest man and believes in the value of hard work, but also believes it is important to have what has become known as an "Andrew Saturday" every now and then. He has taught me how to put the check list down and to appreciate these Saturdays of non scheduled bliss, full of good food, good beer, and good company.


It is rare that one finds someone who balances them so completely. Someone who knows you better than you know yourself, and who isn't afraid to keep you in check. On good days and bad, he is exactly the man I need in my life and I am thankful every day for his.

I love this man. And so does his little girl.

Happy birthday (month), my love. I celebrate your birth every day.

Girls Night

The venue may have changed over the years, but the company is always the same.


Love my girls.

Happy Nine (and a half) Months!

I am super late with this post, but on the 23rd, our sweet girl turned nine months old! The holidays pushed her nine month check up to December 1st, so I was waiting to have stats. Anyway, here they are: 17 lbs, 9.5 oz (25th percentile); 28.5" long (80th percentile). We have a long and lean little girl!


She is so brave. She didn't cry at all when the nurse pricked her finger and took blood and only cried a little when she got two shots. She's such a big girl!


I am loving the ninth month! C is full of personality and it is visible more and more every day. She's so curious and she raises her eyebrows when she listens to you intently. She squeals and babbles constantly and has even started talking to herself while playing with her lovey in her crib in the morning before she cries for me to come get her. She's a champion eater and is loving the introduction of finger foods. She will eat bananas, avocados, puffs, and Mum Mum cookies all day long (and most of them make it to her mouth). Banks has also learned that he can usually score snacks whenever she's eating...

She's eating three meals a day and taking 7-8 oz. bottles of formula in between. She's wearing 9 month clothes in everything besides footed pajamas. Our long little girl needs the 12 month in those!


She crawls with great speed, but would much prefer to stand these days. She's pulling up and cruising along the couch, and every now and then, she will let go and stand all by herself for a brief moment. It's so much fun (and exhausting) being with her all day as she learns these new mobile skills. 

We started Kindermusik last month and she has discovered percussion. She loves shaking and beating on anything and everything (including the dog and us) and she loves music. She is mesmerized by her reflection.

She loves being outside for walks or going to the park to swing. Really, she just loves people watching and fights sleep so she won't miss a beat. She has changed from three naps a day to two most days and is sleeping from 7:30 - 6:30 or 7:00 each night (waking up at 10:30 for medicine and usually briefly around 4:00, but she has started to put herself back to sleep which is a welcomed change!

The ninth month is usually the month moms celebrate their little ones being out of the womb longer than they were in it; but for us, that was last month! It's hard to believe that my teeny little preemie is a healthy and thriving nine month old. Amazing.

Happy nine (and a half) months to my crawling, pulling up, cruising, babbling, giggling, smart, funny, sweet, and snuggly little girl. You are my world.

Parenting Fail

I am far from a perfect person, but I consider myself a pretty good mom. That being said, I make mistakes. I have accidentally pinched C's cute little thigh when putting her in the high chair. Sometimes her bath water is a little too hot or, in my attempt to remedy that, a little too cold. Sometimes I realize at 5:00 that I have forgotten to give C her 3:30 dose of medicine. But, the majority of the time, most days, all goes well. Everyone is happy and fed and bathed and dry and playing safely behind a baby corral, tucked away from the death trap that is the rest of our house.

Today was not one of those days.

Let me preface this by saying that she is totally fine. As I (slowly) type this, we are sitting on the rug, playing with toys, seeing which ones make the best noises when shaken. But this morning, I failed.

We're still not sleeping through the night completely. While, it's getting better, C more often than not, ends up snuggled next to me in our bed after her 6:30 bottle in an attempt for us both to get a little more sleep. She was nestled next to me, engulfed in my arms, sound asleep with her fuzzy little blanket clenched in her fist. So I closed my eyes to join her. I was awakened by a loud THUD followed by crying.

She had woken up, crawled out of my arms and across the entire width of our king sized bed, and fallen off the other side onto the hard wood floor.

I rushed to her, picked her up, and panicked. I tried to soothe her while crying myself. After only a minute, she was smiling, with a little red bump on her left temple. I knew what signs to look for from other moms telling me similar stories, but I called the doctor to make sure. Sure enough, if she wasn't overly lethargic, vomiting, or crying inconsolably, she was fine. I was relieved, but still so upset with myself. For weeks now, I had been worried about this happening. C is not only very mobile now, but also very curious. Needless to say, our days of morning snuggling in bed are over (at least while Mommy is sleeping).

I share this story because that's the point of this blog. If I only shared my triumphs, I'd be censoring myself and my readers from the truth that parenting is hard and not all days are perfect. I am so lucky that she is okay and that a tiny bump on her head is her only battle wound from this morning, but I'm not naive enough to think that this is the only time in her life that I will screw up. Luckily, my good parenting moments far outweigh the bad; but, for the record, the bad are absolutely heart breaking.