Were you a Good Witch or a Bad Witch?

My guess is that there are two audiences that tend to ask what your child was like when they were a new baby: new mamas and, at some point, your own child. I've wondered how I'll answer that question on more than one occasion and I've noticed that, over time, my answer seems to change right along with our growing girl. The older she gets, the easier it gets - of course. So lately, I feel my answer morphing into regarding Storey as being an easy baby - because lately, that's starting to be the case.

Oddly enough, what I don't want to do though, is forget the hard times. The loss and redefinition of self, the inevitable stress on our gratefully solid marriage, the trial and error attempts at soothing, the lack of sleep, the sometimes constant fussing and screaming and the sight of her grumpy little face has been just down right hard in these early weeks. Really.

Not that I plan on telling Storey that she was a difficult baby, but especially if a new mama asks me, I don't want the patience, support, tears and triumphs to go forgotten in the haze of that all-too-cheery selective memory mamas of older babies sometimes seem to develop.

Bottom line, taking care of a small infant 24-7 has been one of the hardest things I've ever done. But, I will say that when I see the little person that's emerging due to our Herculean efforts, it's way, way worth it.

Mad, Mad, MAD!

Storey spent last week smiling, cooing, laughing, flirting. She was sleeping in regular intervals and eating at a rate that allowed me to complete a small task or two in between. Then...over the weekend...some other baby arrived in her place again.

Our smiling, cooing lovey has turned into Lou Ferrigno, crying inconsolably, kicking, resisting sleep, eating every 12.2 minutes... turning green and ripping her clothes off at the seams. (Hulk mad! You make Hulk angry! Very angry! Rarrrr!)

It would be really funny if after she came out of it she'd give us a bewildered David Banner monolog, wondering about the cars she overturned and trees she uprooted during her time as her nasty green self.

Make New Friends

Storey's only 6 weeks old or so, and already she has what must be her dearest friends. 10 of them to be exact. There were 12 - Rat Ox Tiger Hare Dragon Snake Horse Sheep Monkey Rooster Dog Boar - but two of them must have met some demise before coming to hang blessedly over her changing table.

This mobile was one of my most favorite of items inherited from my mentor the first year I taught Third Grade. Now it's Storey's most favorite item (in the world). She can be screaming, totally inconsolable, and if we take her to see her friends, poof! she starts smiling, cooing, laughing, dancing. We say, "Look! There's your friends!" and the madness ends, joy begins.

Like I've said in previous posts, it's a lucky thing to have such great friends.

Old Man

He loves her.

I've been wondering lately how much time we have left with him. My hope is that he sticks around long enough for her to get to love him back. My sweet old man.

Books & Prunes

When my younger brother Wes was young, he'd hold his poop for days. Sometimes it would seem like weeks. But, I'd take him to the library or the pool and as soon as we'd settle in and start enjoying our surroundings, he'd go. It was uncanny. I don't know what the deal was with the pool, but I'm convinced that something about books, magazines, newspapers, etc. makes them the thinking man's (or woman's) laxative. Perhaps it's due to the fact that books were always part of potty training in our home (you gotta have something to do while you sit there for hours, waiting). Regardless, we've all ended up pretty patterned.

Apparently Storey has inherited this gene from my side of the family. Each morning we read. Our current favorite is Goodnight Moon. I'm thinking about adding an extra line to the text, (goodnight poop) because, as we read, she fills her pants with great abandon. In reference to my oration abilities, I'm not sure whether I should feel flattered or offended.

Fun Papa

They've started their own band.

Poopy Present

I was looking through digital photos today, sorting out ones that I might like to get printed, when I happened upon this one from my mom's birthday. It's a nice one, isn't it?

Yeah, look closer.





I remember this happening, and us all laughing, but I don't remember taking a photo of the unpleasantness. Sometimes it strikes me that perhaps I'm a bit off. Oh well. It's certainly one of those "special moments" they'll both treasure forever.

Fruity-licious

Yesterday, in the middle of napping, our doorbell rang. On our front porch I found a nice lady with an even nicer offering - a giant bouquet of fruit! It was astounding, and, I felt, most definitely photo worthy. (Inside was a head of lettuce, surrounded by kale! This has to be the most ingenious edible gift ever.)

The card wished Storey a happy one month, congratulating Jason and I for weathering it with her. This from fabulous mama, May. She has this way about her, just laying low and then thinking of just the right thing to do or say. Her son is about to turn one, so she's freshly aware of what the first month can bring for new parents.

All I have to say is, fruit rocks. Storey thought so too (flailing about a short time after I ate some).


It's amazing how lucky we are to have such incredible friends. A month after her birth and people are still dropping by with little outfits, hats, things they saw at the store and had to get for Storey. She's like a kindness magnet. I ran out of thank you cards weeks ago.

You Are What Your Mama Eats

Ahh. We're learning so much, stumbling, bumbling through. Trial and error.

First, Storey got all stuffy, to the point where she couldn't breathe when she ate or slept on her back. Our days and nights were filled with snorting, screaming and the sucking sound of the bulb aspirator (a gross but miraculous tool).

We got rid of the feather pillows. I dusted the ceiling fan (ew! how did WE breathe?) and we still had one miserable kid on our hands. Finally I came across chocolate as a possible allergen. Here over the course of about 4 days I had consumed a carton of chocolate soy milk, two chocolate bars, and our share of a big plate of brownies brought over by another kind mama. Delicious! And apparently torturous for our screaming baby.

So I cut chocolate just to see. And the snots went away. Sigh. Please, enjoy some on my behalf...

Next, she broke out in a nice crop of baby acne. This is apparently normal, but it kept getting worse, spreading into her hair, all over her ears, down her neck, over her shoulders... ouch. Zitty baby.

Then she started spitting up large quantities. Think 2-3 tablespoons of projectile milk all over the bed, me, her - all day, all night. Burp cloths rendered useless. So, I read some more and find that these two discomforts in tandem indicate a dairy allergy. Argh.

So, added to the list: No cheese. No milk. No yogurt. Oh well. The acne is clearing up and she's no longer clawing at her face. Relying on older photos for now, I thought the one above was pretty appropriate. Crabby.