Alex my sweet baby girl. You are six months old already. You are nothing at all like your brother was at this age. You are smaller, more delicate some how. Yes you still have those delicious rolls and chubby cheeks that I love to pinch. You have no use for those milestone charts I keep getting in my Inbox. Your brother blew through them. Sitting up, rolling over, crawling, walking all accomplished by 8 months. You have decided to do things in your own time. Not when some damn chart says you should. You are your own woman, my dear. You are laid back and calm, always studying the situation around you. You could care less who holds you and you are quick to grin that amazing toothless smile at anyone that greets you. You fall asleep in my arms with no fuss. You nurse only when you are hungry. You cry when you are overly tired, or wet and for no other reason. So unlike your rambunctious brother.
Yet the two of you adore one another. You will grin at him more quickly then anyone else in the world. You are patient with him as he learns to hold you and as he explores you by poking and prodding. You can tell the the adoration is mutual in the shared looks and cuddles. It's amazing for me to watch.
You have started growling. It's your way of expressing frustration and joy and amusement. It's odd and adorable and wonderful. You are not yet crawling and I am in no hurry for that. You have no teeth but you manage to do you fair share of eating. You love to be held and cuddled and kissed. You love raspberries blown on your tummy and when Daddy tosses you ever so gently in the air. Your are my monkey. With your pale blond peach fuzz for hair and your big deep blue eyes that look in to mine and see me in a way I've never really been seen before.
You are my wish, my hope, my love. You are my everything. You are what taught Daddy and I that love does not divide. It only multiplies. I wish the world for you and I hope that you and your brother continue to appreciate each other, through the inevitable arguments, because together you make up the two halves of my heart. I love you baby girl. Happy 6 month birthday.
Showing posts with label kids. Show all posts
Showing posts with label kids. Show all posts
Friday, April 17, 2009
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Perfect love
Is when your three year old boy brings you in the most impossibly small purple flower, gives you a kiss, and says "I love you Mommy!" Life is good.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Daddy's Rules for Dating
My dad sent this to me in an email. Ahh flashbacks to high school.....
Rule One:
If you pull into my driveway and honk you'd better be delivering a package, because you're sure not picking anything up.
Rule Two:
You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter's body, I will remove them..
Rule Three:
I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don't take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose this compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However, in order to ensure that your clothes do not, in fact come off during the course of your date with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist.
Rule Four:
I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, sex without utilizing a 'Barrier method' of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate, when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.
Rule Five:
It is usually understood that in order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is: 'early.'
Rule Six:
I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.
Rule Seven:
As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process than can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge . Instead of just standing there, why don't you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car?
Rule Eight:
The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places where there is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka - zipped up to her throat. Movies with a strong romantic or sexual themes are to be avoided; movies which feature chain saws are okay. Hockey games are okay. Old folks homes are better.
Rule Nine:
Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a potbellied, balding, middle-aged, dimwitted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.
Rule Ten:
Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a chopper coming in over a rice paddy near Hanoi . When my Agent Orange starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the driveway you should exit the car with both hands in plain sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, then return to your car - there is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is mine.
Rule One:
If you pull into my driveway and honk you'd better be delivering a package, because you're sure not picking anything up.
Rule Two:
You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter's body, I will remove them..
Rule Three:
I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don't take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose this compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However, in order to ensure that your clothes do not, in fact come off during the course of your date with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist.
Rule Four:
I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, sex without utilizing a 'Barrier method' of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate, when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.
Rule Five:
It is usually understood that in order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is: 'early.'
Rule Six:
I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.
Rule Seven:
As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process than can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge . Instead of just standing there, why don't you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car?
Rule Eight:
The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places where there is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka - zipped up to her throat. Movies with a strong romantic or sexual themes are to be avoided; movies which feature chain saws are okay. Hockey games are okay. Old folks homes are better.
Rule Nine:
Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a potbellied, balding, middle-aged, dimwitted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.
Rule Ten:
Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a chopper coming in over a rice paddy near Hanoi . When my Agent Orange starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the driveway you should exit the car with both hands in plain sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, then return to your car - there is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is mine.
Monday, February 4, 2008
Is there enough room?
See those boys up there? They are my life. I woke up this morning snuggled between my husband and my son and I thought, "Could this get any more perfect?" And then I starting wondering about the decision we've made to have another. Would there be room? Everything is so perfect. Will another baby double that joy? Or create havoc?
I'm an only child. I have no idea what it's like to have a sibling or to raise two children. The relationship between siblings is an enigma to me. I see how close my cousins are and how close Ed's and his brother are but the depth of that relationship elludes me.
I don't want Remi to be an only child. But part of me wonders if I'm ever going to be able to understand. Will I love Number Two as much as I do Remi? Will Remi accept a new baby? Will they be best friends or enemies?
The love I have for my son takes my breath away. There is nothing I wouldn't do to keep him safe and happy. My world would end with out him. I would be a worthless shell of a person. Is it possible that, with another child, that love will double? Or will it some how take away from my sweet boy?
I never imagined that the love of my life would wear safty goggles and a cape. I certainly hope that when I do get pregnant that he'll be as excited as we will be. And that we all learn that there is no capacity limit of love.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
Broken filter
My dad has always told me that God forgot to install the filter bewtween my brain and my mouth. My internal filter is beyond repair. You wnat butt pats you've coem to the wrong palce. Which means if you come to me whining for advice I will give it to you, uncensored and unrrated. If you then shoot down Every. Single. Suggestion I make with some lame excuse be prepared. I will tell you that it isn't your husband's fault your marriage is in the shitter. The man TOLD you exactly what he needed and you continued to ignore him. You made excuses about conflicting schedules and kids that get "upset" about going to bed early and about how you don't want to go outside and do things becasue its cooooooooooold. Guess what? We he leaves your whining excuses to find a woman that will LISTEN to him, you will get no sympathy from me. Men are simple. If you've already had sex, make him a damn sandwich. Put the kid to bed early no matter how pissed she gets. Better to have a slighty mad 2 year old than to be a single mother. You have a husband who cares enough to tell you what he needs changed (and has reasonable requests) and didn't just immediatly try to replace your bitchy ass (I wouldn't have blamed him.)
It comes down to one thing- The best gift you can give your child is to love her father. He is not there only to pay bills and make sperm donations. He has needs and feelings and he's TRYING for God's sake. Try with him!!! And stop whinign to me. I ran out of cheese ages ago.
It comes down to one thing- The best gift you can give your child is to love her father. He is not there only to pay bills and make sperm donations. He has needs and feelings and he's TRYING for God's sake. Try with him!!! And stop whinign to me. I ran out of cheese ages ago.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
It's official
We're going to have another baby! I had a Mirena IUD put in in August of '05 and I'm planning to go next month to have it removed. Now rumor has it that it doesn't take long to regain one's fertility after removal but any of you that have personal or medical knowledge are welcome to give me your input. I'm excited and after much discussion (and Hubby's 36th birthday) we decided to go ahead and get started because as we learned the first time only God knows how long it'll take to actually get the bun in the oven. And as hubby pointed out, making the peanut is half the fun. Wish us luck!
Sunday, August 12, 2007
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