On Your First Birthday

Dear Hannah,

Last year on your birthday, I wrote to you about all the hopes and dreams and wonders I had for you. The days surrounding your birth were pretty incredible, and I should have known that you were going to come into this world guns a'blazing. And did you ever!

In the hospital, I tried to rest up before your arrival. You had other plans. You kept kicking the external monitors, making them thump, and then rolling over to the other side so the nurses had to come in and adjust the monitors. All that movement meant no rest for Mommy.

Your arrival into the world was more of an "eviction process", since you found me to be a hospitable living environment. You came out squirmy and scared, screaming until you and I met for the first time. You were so beautiful and warm, exactly the same temperature as me. You were my perfect little girl.

When you did arrive, you were so tiny! Every nurse and doctor warned me about the potential complications at birth, but I should have known then who you were going to be, because you came on your own time, in your own way, proving me wrong every step of the process.

For the first few weeks of your life, you were an average baby: eat, sleep, gassy smile, poop, repeat. At 5 weeks, you made eye contact with me and smiled for the first time. You recognized me! At 8 weeks, you stopped being a newborn and you became A Person. Tummy time, infant rattles, mirrors, it all became the stuff of infants. You had more interesting and important things to take care of. Ever since, you have been trying to stand, roll, laugh, crawl, walk, play, and have fun.

You love to laugh, and it's my greatest joy to be the master behind the giggles. Everyday I tickle you, make faces and weird noises, and make sure you go to bed having  laughed a great big belly laugh. Your smile lights up a room. I have yet to meet anyone who doesn't think your smile can't melt a cold, black heart.

You are spunky, determined, sassy, and independent. You don't let anything, or anyone, stand in your way. You have quite the personality on you. Everything you say, every word and baby babble, is said with great importance and earnest. You quickly figured out that we grownups used sounds to communicate, and you wanted in on that action. You have been babbling and talking forever, and it will likely never stop. I just know that you are going to have questions that demand answers.

You despise nap time and always have. No amount of begging, pleading, feeding, and praying would get you to go down. Just when we thought we had you fooled, we had to come up with another way of convincing you to sleep during the day, because you hate to miss out on anything. Nothing gets past you, and if you think there's fun to be had in another room, by golly, you'll find it!

You are also crazy smart. You get that from your dad. You can follow commands and say words and sign signs. You can crawl so fast, stand on your feet, push up on your tippy toes, and reach for what you want. You know where we keep things and hide things, and we can't ever count on being able to hide things from you, because you automatically go looking for what you want. Blockades be damned! You WILL find it! You say Dada, Mama, book, touch, tongue, kittykitty, pretty, milk, more, buh-bye, nice....the list goes on. When we sing "Teenage Dream", and I say, "Just one touch, now baby I believe!" you reach out and touch me, all while saying, "Toooooooooooooooooouch!" When Jane walks into the room, you light up and say, "Kittykitty!" You recognize us and yourself, and when your favorite toy or puzzle piece goes missing, you aren't satisfied with a substitute. You want YOUR Mr. Dog, not another's!

You love music. On Thanksgiving Day, while watching the Macy's parade, you stood still, completely enamored by the Broadway performances during the pre-show. When Daniel Radcliffe danced, so did you. You love singing and dancing and always sing along in the car. Christmas music is your absolute favorite. We dance everyday, and your little head-bob gets me every time.

You love to eat, and you'd eat all day, everyday if we let you. You have days when you're picky, but eventually they pass and you're back to nom-nom-noming on everything in sight.

You, my dear, are a big, big fan of moi. You are always climbing towards me, crawling at me, pulling up my legs and wanting to be held. Sometimes you reach out and just want to hold me or hold my hand. When Daddy tickles me and I say, "Noooooooooooooo!" in my funny voice, it upsets you. Each time it happens, you cry and come to Mommy's side. You are always reaching for me. It won't always be this way, and I want to enjoy it for as long as possible.

Your comedic timing is impeccable. You can make me laugh for hours with just a look or smirk. You know exactly when you shrug your shoulders or give me "that face". Your laugh is infectious.

You love to do so many things. You know exactly what you love and you don't care who knows it. More importantly, you are loved by so many people. Everyone who's met you thinks you're the bee's knees, kiddo. You will never stopped being loved for who you are, and who you are becoming.

It might be a little heavy, maybe even a little unfair, to tell you that you saved me. Even when I didn't want to be saved, when I didn't think I was capable of loving anyone more than I love myself, you were the one who  turned me around. You made me a Mom, and you, sweet baby, are the only one who could have made that happen--it was a job meant for you alone.

Hannah, before I met you, I was just breathing. Inhaling and exhaling. I didn't realize it, but I was. Now I savor every moment with you. I breathe you in and squeeze you tight before you wriggle away and find something else to get in to. I love watching you play and learn and grow. When you smile at me, you light up my whole world. The worst part of my day is leaving your sweet smile

Baby, the day I met you was the day I started seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. You've helped make me complete, and it was you who made me realize that I always wanted to be your mom. I love you to the moon and back, and I am honored to be your mommy. You are, and always will be, the daughter I always wanted. Baby, no one loves you like me.

Happy Birthday, Presh.

Happy Halloween!

 Happy Halloween, from Twink, Rainbow Brite, and Red Butler!

Stay safe, eat some candy, and get your ghostie on!

Life's Lessons: The Damn-Its-Cold Edition

Aaaahhhh.....Friday. It's about damn time. Normally I'm ready for Friday, but not completely desperate. Today was another story entirely. Today alone made me want to hit the reset button and climb back in to bed until Friday rolled around again.

So. Where are we these days?

1. Camping with a baby? Easy peasy.

2. Just be sure to bring extra....everything.

3. And watch out for the baby who wants to eat everything in sight. Like leaves and sticks.

4. Speaking of sticks, we learned last week that walking sticks (bugs) are evil and deserve to be killed without mercy. Especially when they execute sneak attacks!

5. Graham learned that I really, really, really don't like bugs.

6. Meanwhile, at work this week, I've been battling with a software program that someone effed up. Not fun.

7. It leaves me wondering why I'm the one that had to go to training for this, when I know what I'm doing and the person who didn't know...just didn't go? Who knows?

8. So....this means extra busy work for Angie. Oy. I'm not looking forward to our department status meeting on Monday when my big boss asks why certain things weren't done. Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh. I hate that feeling. That "I forgot to do my homework" feeling.

9. Blah. I can't wait until this day is over. I missed my train because of a douchebag who decided to "test" the emergency button on my first train, so I was an hour late for work. Then my online training didn't load, and now I've got broken software to deal with.

10. Who's gonna be drinking a big ole beer tonight? THIS girl.

PYHO: Mine

I don't like Taylor Swift. Her songs are cute and very catchy, but I can't listen for too long. Girlfriend writes a song about everyone she's ever met, and unless there's some good dirt to hear, I really don't want to listen to a self-righteous song about her 6th grade math teacher or the lady who stole her parking spot at Target. Part of me really wants to shake that girl. She has awful taste in men. I mean really, Taylor? You dated John Mayer, of all people. What about him made you think he wouldn't be a douche? And then he dumped you? GASP. Wait wait! I have a brilliant idea....let's write another song about this! Yeah! That'll learn him!

Maybe I'm being mean, but for as mature as this girl comes off in her interviews, her songs are all very...young. She's taking real-life situations, some of which are very personal and painful for her and the other people involved, and she's essentially making bank off break up #6948. If she were my ex, I'd be pretty pissed.

There's one song, though, I can't get out of my head. I'd like to, but I can't, and I think it's because every time I hear that line, I think of my baby girl. The rest of the song has absolutely nothing to do with us, or my life, or my situation, but when she sings about "the best thing that's ever been mine", I can't NOT think of Hannah.

I can be proud. I'm vain. This weekend my sister-in-law and I were comparing stretch marks (we party hard) and she said she was proud of them; they're her battle scars. Me? No way. I don't like them. Not that I'm waving my stomach back and forth for the world to see but if there was a way to erase them completely, I would.

Over the last few years, I've assembled a short list of things that I've been most proud of. My college diploma. My wedding ring. My singing voice. My house. My small-but-mighty collection of aging books. My large collection of books in general. That one pair of jeans that makes my butt look really good. But the fact is that out of all of them, there isn't one I'd trade for my baby girl. There is nothing that can make a bad day better like she can. And while she means many things to many people, and while she's so loved by so many, she's mine. (Okay, and her dad's, too. But dammit, she came a'screamin' outta ME, so I get first dibs!) Hannah Grace is my daughter, my baby girl.


I'm not wild about Taylor Swift. I'll probably never go to her concerts, and unless she starts singing big girl songs I won't go out of my way listen to her music. But I will always have a space in my heart for this song, because without a doubt, Hannah is the very best thing that's ever been mine.

Life's Lessons: Downtown Edition

Hello, Friday! How ya been? I've been forgetting to link up to Life Lessons the last few weeks, and now that I'm in the swing of things with my new job I finally have the time to do it! (Andohya I remembered, too.)

1. I've been commuting to the Loop everyday for software training. It's nice because I only take one train and I'm in the Loop for a total of 3 stops before I get off and walk a block to my building. Software training for work can be incredibly boring.

2. It can also be pretty interesting and exciting when you're a nerd such as myself.

3. 9-5 training over a 5 day period, however, is far too much. Me no likey.

4. I am fully convinced after the last two weeks that liking your job makes all the difference in the world. From now on, I will never work in any job I don't like for any longer than is absolutely necessary.

5. Last weekend we went to a birthday party, a baby shower, a meet & greet with Hannah's future prom date (Hayden), and my cousin's wedding. (Not necessarily in that order.) That was way too much for one weekend. #stupidness

6. Going back to software training, I've been struggling to make time to pump during the training because the 15 minute breaks they allow us (two of them) are not long enough. So I've been taking 25 minute breaks. My instructor is cool with it.

7. It is not, however, easy, because my daughter is self-weaning so my supply is dropping and her EIGHT TEETH have made the girls a little sensitive as of late.

8. My not-yet-ten-month-old has eight teeth. Eight individual pearly whites. Ochocinco. That makes my head and boobs very hurty.

9. Eight teeth also means she's incredibly interested in Big People Food and she's quickly losing interest in purees. She'll eat the purees, but only if she's still hungry and there's nothing left. Kind of like how I'd only marry a Packers fan if we were the last two humans left on earth, and there were no sheep. Are there sheep?

10. Everyday I look at my bitty baby and I can't get over how BIG she is. She's got her dad's build and height for certain. She doesn't like to wait for anything--a trait she gets from me. She's so ready to be a toddler. The next two months are merely a formality as far as she's concerned.

11. Speaking of Big People Food, we discovered this week that Hannah likes, nay, LOVES pasta! I made Pasta alla Norma a few days ago and she nomnomnom'd on penne after penne until she was full. Carbo loading? She really IS my daughter!

12. Pasta alla Norma, if you don't know, has eggplant, tomatoes, mushrooms, and onion. Hannah tried each vegetable, except for the onion. She ate all of them and loooooooooved it. I'm calling it a parent win!

Exhausterpated

Yes. Yes, I am. Exhausterpated. It's my made up word, yo!

All week I've been in training for a software program for work. I'm actually learning it this time instead of being self-taught like at my old job, and unsurprisingly if I learned nothing else this week it's that I was doing a lot of things wrong. All that time = wasted.

The fun part of all my training is that it's downtown so I can take the L everyday and my commute is less than 30 minutes. THIRTY. MINUTES. Amazing!! I don't mind my hour+ commute, but having a short distance to travel is super fun.

Work is really heating up. My school's annual Homecoming celebration this weekend so I'm going to be gone a total of 20 hours or so on Saturday and Sunday. Booooooooooooooooo! BUT BUT BUT! What makes it worthwhile is that I really like my job. Really. I'm super happy at work. I am excited about going to work each day, and the time passes quickly because my brain is engaged, I'm not just hiding out, hoping I won't piss anyone off before I go home. Miracles happen, people.

So...my blogging has taken a back seat this week because I'm short on time between work and home. I will be back with a vengeance next week, though! I've still got to post Hannah's 9 month update, photos from the apple orchard, etc.

These Things I Want To Remember

Hannah's first year is quickly coming to an end. In a few months, my sweet baby will be one! As each day passes, I realize that I'm starting to forget some things, and I want to write them down so I can look back at them some day, and maybe even share them with her when she's older.

1. One of the first things I said after she was born--if not the first thing--was "She has back hair." She was white and gray and covered in goo, and she still had a fine layer of lanugo on her in some spots. I guess after the rush of labor and pushing my baby out of my body, words and emotions escaped me.

2. One of the most amazing, shocking things when she was born? That her body temperature was exactly the same as mine.

3. The small, soft noises she'd make as a newborn, and how even moving her head back and forth required so much effort.

4. The first time she smiled at me. On purpose.

5. As she became more aware of her surroundings, and hearing her test out her vocal cords to make sounds to communicate with us.

6. Hearing "ba ba ba" and "da da da" for the first time, and hearing her repeat it back to me.

7. The first time she sat up and got onto her hands and knees after I laid her down to bed, complete with shit-eatin' grin and a that "Screw you, big people!" look in her eyes.

8. The way she laughs when she learns something new.

9. Her smile and giggle when she bounces in her jumperoo.

10. The way she reaches for me when she falls down (or when the floor falls up) because she's hurt and all she wants is a little comfort.

I'm going to miss this stage.