call in the fire brigade!

Warning: Never let Alan near a stovetop. Why, you ask? Because yesterday, for the second time in ten years, he managed to start a kitchen fire.

Some of you may recall the infamous macaroni and cheese incident of 1999(ish). I won't go into details, but suffice it to say that the saucepan he was using was a victim of the fire and he had to shell out some money to get his roommate's leather jacket cleaned. That, and clean the walls and upholstery and...you get the picture. And let's be fair: this time, it was midafternoon and my husband was actually trying to clean the kitchen, softening up the bacon grease that had solidified from the previous evening's supper. He couldn't find the jar I keep grease in (it's not good for the pipes, you know), so came in to ask me. And I proceeded to talk and talk and talk, and he forgot. Suddenly--beep, beep, beep, beep (that's our insanely loud, annoying smoke detector that finally did the job it was supposed to do this time as opposed to, say, warning me that there was steam coming from my shower)--and we walked out into a kitchen with eight-inch flames leaping from the skillet. At least the skillet is salvageable this time: it's cast iron.

"Do we have any baking soda?" Al asked, clearly annoyed. He had already turned off the stovetop and moved the skillet to a cool burner. I pointed to it, made sure he used it, and ran to close Bridget's door and turn on her ceiling fan. By the time I was done with that, he had flung open doors and come to get a fan to pull the smoke out of the house. I grabbed another fan, and by the time I got it plugged in next to another door, my throat was burning and I could barely breathe. I woke up my baby (her only nap of the day, and she had only been down fifteen minutes--go figure) and took her outside with me while Al stayed in the house and flung open all of the windows and then wandered around for some unknown reason instead of coming outside. Maybe the smoke had already gotten to his brain at that point--who knows?

We eventually wandered back into the house and everything returned to normal, except it now all smells faintly of smoke (and Al was hoping against hope that he won't have to wash the walls again). It was a rare day of excitement in our family. Oh, and did I mention I was trying to work yesterday? Our fun little incident squashed that for the day, which means I'm working on a Saturday. Grrr.

we interrupt this editing job...

Darn. Didn't get the $1,200 editing gig that would have been easier (and more interesting, subject-wise) than the cheaper job I'm doing (and taking a break from) now. Oh, well. On to other things...

Last year at this time I was in a fitness boot camp and working out between 5:30 and 6:30 am three to five days a week (started at three, upped it to five and then found out I was pregnant. No wonder the strangest things--like standing up after being on the ground--were making me dizzy!). Since I can't really afford the $300/month price tag this year (or be away from the house at that time, since Al leaves for work before then), I decided this past Sunday that, starting Monday, I would do it on my own from 5:00 to 6:00 am. Well, Bridget had other plans.

On Monday morning (although I usually still consider this part of the previous night), Bridget woke up hungry at 3:30 am. This after drinking about 7 ozs. from a bottle before bed. Tuesday, she awoke at 4:50 am. Today, 4:53 am. I think I see a pattern here.

Now, I'm actually usually up around 5ish to pump--gotta fill those bottles so Al can still keep trying to feed her at night (although she's been quite the mama's girl when she gets tired at night lately), and they come in handy when I'm out visiting people (I'm not one of those breastfeed in public moms--I've hated being around that since I was a kid and almost didn't breastfeed because of it). Plus, I'm storing up for when Laura, my brother's mom-in-law, takes care of her in daycare starting in September (too soon!). So she's seriously depleting my stored milk supply and throwing all of my plans into the wind. Ha ha, mommy! You can't plan anything too strictly without my okay--I'm in charge! Yeah, only for now, little girl. And for now, exercise plans are once again on hold.

But editing is on--at least two to three hours a day, now--and I've got an old friend lined up to help me build a website for this quilting business that I want to start, if I can talk my hubby into letting me pay her for her wonderful work (check it out: www.jenniebanta.com). And I have to check into setting things up legally. The name I wanted is taken in the wonderful world of the web, so I've chosen another one that I'm keeping all to my lonesome right now. It'll be a surprise! And I would like to focus more on quilts than crib sets, but I'll do it all if it'll make me money and a successful businesswoman (still custom, though; I don't want a million quilts sitting around that aren't going to make me any money!).

As for Bridget, well, she's just a joy and the love of my life. And into meeting other babies now (pictured here with cousin Noah and Aunt Judy--and me, of course--courtesy of Meaghan). Til next time!

the greatest show on earth

Prepare to be amazed. Prepare to be astounded. Prepare to be enchanted by the cuteness and cleverness that is our Bridget. Da da da da...(drumroll)...

Bridget rolled over today!

Okay, so it's a pretty standard feat when it comes to babies. But when you're the mommy, and she's your first, it's something else. Especially when you weren't expecting it. Here we were, out on the patio and I had just pulled a few weeds. I glanced back over and Bridget was completing the back-to-tummy rollover. I was amazed! I was astounded! I was enchanted! And I called Al, told him, and ran and got my camera for the second-ever rollover that was Bridget's. It's below, but it's about 3 1/2 minutes long. She's now got it down to about 45 seconds, thank you very much. But I thought the second attempt was the more impressive video.

Three months yesterday, Bridget is weighing in at approximately 14 pounds. Al and I did the I-get-on-the-scale-with-her and then without her thing the other day, so that's why it's approximate. She's a bit taller, too, but I'm not quite sure how much because I don't know how they measure babies. Crown of head to heel, or to tiptoe? If tiptoe, she's grown a lot, if heel, a bit. But I haven't actually brought my ruler or tape measure for a while, so I'm not quite sure how much. We'll figure it out soon enough and get back to you.

Oh, and Al's already forgotten his daughter's birthday. He told his brother, Mike, that Bridget is "somewhere between three and a half and four months old" earlier this week, then got off the phone and asked me how old she was. "I couldn't think of when she was born," he said, "and couldn't figure it out." Eyeroll. That's my darling husband and his no-good, horrible memory for you!

Enjoy til next time (and I'm off to editing again starting tomorrow, so it might be about a week or two...),

Rhonda :)

bridget's first laugh

Our second wedding anniversary, and Bridget graced us with the gift of laughter.

let's hurry it up, mommy

I'm posting with a baby in my lap, so if there are more spelling, grammar, and punctuation errors than normal, forgive me. I tend to have SPG errors on my mind since I'm in the midst of the second of four editing jobs that I got within the space of two days last week (not easy when you've got an infant!). Hence the lack of posts.

Despite the time I should be spending on editing (which I cannot do with a baby in my lap, unless it's a final go-through), I had to post. I can't believe how much stuff Bridget is doing within the space of a few days. Last Thursday night, I realized for the first time that she is learning from me. It never occurred to me that she would, but I have been either pushing my lips together or sticking my tongue out at her and blowing air to make that "bbbbb" sound because she thinks it's funny and gives me big smiles. I was watching The Bachelorette (go Jake) on dvr Thursday night (I know, just didn't feel like watching hockey alone since Al was with the guys) and to my amazement she started doing it back to me. I couldn't believe it. Al arrived home right about that time and confirmed that I wasn't imagining things, and my aunts and cousin (Judy, Carolyn, and Julie) saw it on Friday, too, so it wasn't just proud parents dreaming things up. Of course, her version is full of bubbles and saliva, but it's cute! Unfortunately, I'm already getting tired of feeling obligated to react (yay Bridget! great job! and clapping) each time she does it, so now I'm consciously trying to teach her a kissy face. We'll see how that goes!

Also on Thursday (or maybe Friday), Bridget started deliberately trying to hold her bottle when Al feeds her. She had held onto it before, but that was more by chance; this is definitely deliberate, and a bit frustrating since she keeps popping it out of her mouth on mistake. (Back after an intermission--Bridget is now napping. Much easier to type.) Not to mention that she hasn't wanted a bottle the past few nights and cries the first half hour or so we try to get her to take it. But she's been taking it so long at that time of night now that mommy just can't provide enough to satisfy her then anymore. :(

The other big thing she started doing--just last night, in fact--is trying to stand. Of course, she needs lots of help holding her weight up and is still doing the top-heavy stand (usually), but this is the first time she's actually initiated it and wanted to keep doing it. I was encouraging her to stand since I saw my nephew doing it when he was three months old (he's six weeks older than Bridget), but last night she was watching herself in the mirror and just started trying to do it on her own. It was so cute the way she kept smiling and kept at the job of standing--that must be so tiring for her little legs! She kept on for at least twenty minutes.

Bridget also has a few favorite songs, which I could save for another post, but don't want to forget about. I always sing "You Are My Sunshine" to her, and she loves that so much that she tries to sing along. But I've started singing "Good Morning" from Singing In the Rain to her every morning and she loves it. Of course, I change the words to make it more appropriate (this kid isn't going to know the real words to any songs if I keep this up): Good morning, good morning! You've slept the whole night through. Good morning, good morning to you. Good morning, good morning! It's great to sleep in late! Good morning, good morning, to you. (And each morning Gene Kelly and Donald O'Connor are murmuring, "Nothing could be grander than to be in Louisiana" and "It might be just a zippy if you was in Mississippi" in the back of my head as I sing.) But one of her favorite songs that almost always manages to calm her down is "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" by Israel Kamakawiwo. If you've never heard it, it's a combination of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" and "What a Wonderful World." I play that song and she quiets down and listens with interest. Gotta love it!

Okay, gotta work while I've got a chance, but more when I'm done editing in a few days. Have a great week!

where's the manual?

As I was showering this morning and wondering when Bridget's pediatrician would recommend we start putting cereal in her bottle, I realized that I've been waiting for the instruction manual. I think they forgot to give it to me at the hospital, or maybe the pediatrician was supposed to give it to me and didn't do it. Because after Bridget's four-month appointment (scheduled for July 13), she probably won't have to go back until, I don't know, a six-month appointment? And surely she will be eating "solid" foods by then (as in, mushy baby food). But when? And what? What will she be allowed to have and at what age? My gotta-plan-ahead mentality even wondered if there's a Child-Rearing for Dummies handbook. Those guys have everything. If not, then I'll start writing them for year-by-year instructions and it'll turn into one of Al's get-rich-quick schemes. Hey, I'm good at manuals. I'm a technical writer by training, after all.

As I blog and take precious schoolwork time (Al's watching Bridget just so I can do schoolwork), I know one thing for sure: Bridget's first food will not be liver, as mine was. I didn't like it (still don't), and that's proven because my parents got it on Super-8 video. I will get Bridget's first food on video, too, but as to what it will be, I have no idea yet. I'm still secretly (I guess not so secretly, now) hoping for a list of "okay" foods and "hold off on this" foods at my next pediatrician's appointment. I know kids can start eating solids anywhere between four and seven months, and since Bridget's a big girl, I'm suspecting she'll need them in the earlier months. I'll just have to do some research before she reaches that age, I guess. Child-Rearing, here I come.

P.S. For those of you wondering, no, I'm not robbing the cradle. That's my brother Erik holding Bridget. My husband's forty. :)

today is a new day

Yesterday was the first day since giving birth (thus, officially, becoming a mom) that I doubted myself and my abilities as a parent. For someone who is almost irrationally emotional sometimes, I had been pleasantly surprised by how easily I was able to take everything baby-related in stride and how naturally motherhood came to me. But after a fussy Saturday afternoon and evening, to be faced with an entire day of crying and screaming (Sunday) was not easy. I found myself getting worked up, stressed out, and crying right along with Bridget.

If you ask me why Bridget's been so fussy lately, I'll tell you I don't know. I have clues: she does what she can to avoid naps. The last (and longest) nap she's taken since Saturday morning was a 25-minute nap that afternoon. So, fighting naps already = overtired baby, but I don't think that's all of it. Sometimes I wonder if she's teething since she's incredibly drooly lately (I've given up on trying to keep her shirts dry) and--when I can get a glimpse inside there--I think I can actually see the outlines of her two front, top teeth underneath her gums. My imagination? I don't know. I do know that while kids can get teeth as early as three months (she'll be three months in less than two weeks), a lot of kids don't get them til several months later. I didn't get my first tooth til I was seven months old (having your own baby book helps!). And from what I've read, the bottom incisors usually appear first and I can't see anything in her bottom gums. If those are her teeth I'm seeing, they've got a way to go--about an eighth of an inch, I'd say--until they break through the gumline. If they're bothering her already? Oh, boy. Lots of fussy days and evenings ahead of me. I've been letting her have her pacifier more often on the off chance that they are teeth. Teethers won't fit into her tiny mouth yet.

Me, I've discovered that--especially on a fussy day like yesterday--I'm much better off at home alone with my daughter than trying to be around other people. Al was off yesterday, but actually got called in for a few hours in the morning. By the time he got back, Bridget had already eaten twice (she normally would have only eaten once in the amount of time he'd been gone) and had screamed quite a bit (refusing a nap, of course). She didn't really have her playtime yesterday morning--refused it--and instead I tried to keep her calm until her next feeding, which made us late getting over to my dad's house. Dad was having us and the rest of the family over for a barbecue. We left with a screaming baby and a panting dog in the backseat. Bridget fell asleep on the way there, but she woke up when the car stopped (normal for her). She was actually calm in her carseat until Uncle Erik picked her up (he loves his niece! It's so cute.). Then the screaming began in earnest. He got her calmed down after several minutes, I took a picture, and she started screaming again. I ended up feeding her while everyone else ate.

Hoping against hope that Bridget would take a nap when she finished eating, I put her in the Pack & Play that dad keeps at his house. She thought it was tummy time. Then daddy (Al) turned her over. She played for a few minutes, then the screaming began. Beth took her and tried to calm her down since I had said I needed an entire day off (impossible since I'm breastfeeding; even if someone took her, I'd be pumping several times during the day). It bothered me so much to try to let someone else calm her down that I went into a spare bedroom and cried. Then Al tried to calm me down and talk me out of going to get her from Beth. It didn't work. I never thought I'd be the mom who wouldn't hand her crying kid over to someone else, but it is so hard to hear her screaming and not do anything, especially since she definitely seems to prefer me lately (I can calm her down a lot easier than Al can, especially at night). I went up to Beth right when Bridget had calmed down, and then Bridget got cranky again (probably my fault again). The result? I ended up with her the rest of the night. She either sat and played in my lap or ate. When Dad (my dad) said Ryan and Rachel and the kids were on their way over, Erik warned, "Tell them not to pick up the babies--at least not Bridget." Oh, no. I'm becoming that type of a mom. Lord help me, I need to learn to let go. Already.

No real fussiness until right now this morning, and so far we're within her "normal" schedule. She's been in my lap for the last ten minutes reaching for a toy but is getting tired of that game. I'm now down to one-finger typing. We'll see how the rest of the day goes!