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Happy birthday, friend.

for tlo and her mama, whose party i missed today.*

If you saw me today, you may be asking yourself, "I wonder why she changed her clothes six times since this morning?" or, "What's up with that ridiculous bobby-pinned hairstyle?" Both would be fair questions. It has been the kind of day that could never have happened if I weren't someone's mother. The short version is that Claire has been very, very sick during the past 18 hours. We woke up in the night to a cry that I thought was for food but was actually more of a, "Mama, I'm covered in vomit, do you think you could do something about it?" Nate cleaned the crib. I cleaned the girl. Minutes later, I cleaned her again. I continued cleaning her (and myself) several times throughout the day. We visited the doctor. I cried when she dry-heaved. She smiled and waved as I cleaned her up. She has to be the most pleasant sick person I've ever been around.
The only thing left to say today is that there is a type of love that I hope each person who reads this gets to experience in your lifetime. The love where someone (for me, a miniature someone) can vomit all over your freshly clean self and you just don't mind. Your only concern is for her. That, friends, is love. Today, I got to both give and receive the motherlove as my mom spent her Saturday cleaning my girl's messes and my bathroom and telling me over and over what a lovely day she was having. The weird thing is, I know she meant it. The reason I know- I learned it from Claire.

*This picture has nothing to do with today's post. It was taken on Friday morning, the day before the vomit. The three of us went to the Pancake House, which was a tradition for us when we were a family of two. I love how Claire looks annoyed like she's about to say, "Dude, where's my pancakes?"

i married him.

New babies are not easy on new marriages (or on old marriages, I imagine). Mine still feels like a new marriage. What we thought was teething pain turned out to be a horrible ear infection and the last few weeks have been hard. Our champion sleeper had some incredibly rough nights of sleep and the result was a cranky baby, a cranky mommy and serious feelings of chaos. Claire's sweet Grandma graciously offered to pick up groceries for us yesterday. I don't know why it's still so hard for me to accept help, (mothers, why do we think we need to be lone rangers? why?) but, looking at my disheveled house and disheveled baby, I agreed. This turned out to be a big blessing and after many doses of her antibiotic and a mellow at-home day, we both started feeling a little bit better. Then, Nate gave me the best after-Christmas gift of all: a 6 PM bedtime. After 2 weeks of running ragged, handing over the monitor and knowing that Nate would take care of everything was wonderful. Claire slept a full 8 hours and her well-rested mama was able to wake up with a smile for the first morning in what feels like a very long time. I am the luckiest.

joy unexpected.

The best gift of 2006 came eight months ago yesterday. She wasn't what I thought I wanted. I didn't know that I was ready. She doesn't speak, except to say mama. And it's possible that she's not entirely sure what mama means just yet. She doesn't crawl in the usual direction. She amazes me a little more everyday. She makes sleeping late impossible. She makes iPods and jewelry and books and toys look small. Compared to her, they are.

It only looks like I let her dress herself.

Merry Christmas to all.

adventures of an impish elf.

Today, the tree provided crawling incentive. The girl LOVES the sparkly lights and mostly expresses a heartfelt desire to eat the delicious pine needles. Claire has yet to crawl forward, but frequently crawls in reverse and then gets frustrated when she's not where she thinks she should be. Her crawling generally reverts to various yoga poses. Downward facing dog is a favorite.

Today, I was also reminded that growing teeth is a wet, wet process. Claire now has 5 teeth and it seems certain that more are on the move, as she has been exhibiting the tell-tale drooly face.

A big thank you to Auntie Tiff for the super-cute elfin pants and other lovely (and stylish) (and pink) outfits. We love you.

my halls are decked.

Here he is in his prime, babynatehead. I especially like the fist.

about a wednesday.

I always love those posts detailing the mundane aspects of a day. Here's mine:
3:50 AM Claire cries into the monitor, I try to ignore her.
3:53 AM Claire cries louder, I stumble to her room, nurse her and put her back in her crib.
4:02 AM Thankfully, the girl eats fast. I place her back in her crib, turn on the "aquarium thing" and tiptoe back to our bedroom.
4:10 AM I sing a small song of praise for the aquarium thing.
6:59 AM Claire begins to stir in her bedroom, I bring her into our bed, and we hang out, cuddle and wrestle.
8:22 AM I nuzzle Claire's neck and notice a funk. Claire and I take a bath together. Splashing, kicking and fun for all.
9:30 AM Claire goes down for a nap. I catch up on blogs, send emails, throw a few loads of laundry in and start my Bible study.
10:10 AM Phone call. Talk for a bit, abandon study.
11:10 AM Claire wakes up, pink-cheeked and disoriented.
11:20 AM Against my better judgment, I decide to go to the gym.
11:38 AM Drop Claire off at the gym's childcare. Childcare worker reminds me that they close at noon. Awesome. Eighteen minutes of eliptical.
12:05 PM Attempt to stop by the grocery store on the way home for some last minute holiday treats.
12:10 PM Claire begins to scream. Locate binky. Remember that Claire hasn't eaten since morning. Abandon cart.
1:40 PM Claire has eaten lunch, played, had a dance party and a few books. Again, it is naptime.
2:00 PM The phone rings. The girl stirs. I attempt to pat, rock and sing her back to sleep.
2:15 PM She refuses.
2:30 PM Give up nap. I load the girl into the car to get the stuff to make the treats.
3:20 PM Return home, with the wrong kind of chocolate. Eat 1/4 of the bag of chocolate since it won't work for my treats. The girl rubs her eyes and lays back down for a catnap.
4:15 PM I watch Julia Roberts on Oprah while Claire nurses. I can't believe Julia Roberts has had 2 babies. Silently curse Julia Roberts.
4:33 PM Turn off Oprah. Begin to make dinner. (It's chilakilla night).
5:15 PM Dinner is ready, quickly burn banana bread.
5:22 PM Nate comes home, we eat, he plays with Claire while I do the dishes.
6:53 PM Nate rocks Claire for about 2 minutes. He turns the Roby Duke CD to #1. I really hate that CD. We sit side by side with our laptops listening to the CD through Claire's monitor and type. You can be certain that before the end of the night there will be a few jokes about the CD, a blog post and more laundry.

"hi"

for the mother-to-be:

"I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes: that the physical wounds of childbearing will heal, but becoming a mother will leave an emotional wound so raw that she will be forever vulnerable...that she will never read a newspaper again without asking, 'What if that had been my child?' That every plane crash, every fire will haunt her."
...from Everyday Miracles by Dale Hanson Burke

This weekend I found my eyes welling up at a the children's program at church. I am not normally that kind. Two girls in velvet and fur sang solos as their mom fought back tears. I don't know the mother well, and I don't really know her girls, but I have watched them. I remember them when they were small. It just goes so fast. As I held my own squirming one, I watched this mother smiling proudly up at her now big girls, big enough to memorize lyrics, big enough for patent leather shoes with heels...it just goes so fast.

so glad we went with oma.

If you happened to have followed the saga of the barette, check this out. If not,this post from November will give you all of the backstory you need.

Claire thinks babylegs* would finish off the outfit nicely.

*Addendum: babylegs dot net is a sweet little website featuring those precious little legwarmers that I love to put on Claire's chubby little legs. Babylegs dot com is something else entirely. Something I'm going to suggest you not look at. Don't say I didn't warn you.

tie one on.

More beautiful than a baby bjorn.
More practical than a hotsling.
Introducing the Mei Tai.
I always envied those hands-free, sling wearing mamas. I found the mei tai on craigslist and thought we'd give it a try. You can tell a lot about how I'm doing by the state of my hardwood. Dustbunnies, outdoor bits and little pieces of Monkey were all over the place. This morning, I snuggled Claire in and got some serious cleaning done. You can't tell from the photo, but she really seemed comfortable in there. This alone made the soggy week much more bearable.

an open letter to claire's two front teeth.

Dear Teeth,
What do you devils think you're doing? Claire is a BABY, she has no need for you two. Please pick on someone else's child. You two make her drippy and clingy and unhappy. Come back when she's no longer nursing. Come back when her favorite food isn't orange goo in a jar. Come back when I'm ready to admit that she's not going to be a baby much longer. Thank you for considering my request.

Sincerely,
The Mama

stella and ivy.

This picture of our orally fixated wee ones cracks me up! Thanks to our Portland friends for a playdate this afternoon. I loved watching the girls giggle at each other and of course, Stella kept us all entertained...and reminded me what I'm in for in the next year- I actually went home and started toddler-proofing the house.


Claire enjoyed attempting to put fingers into Lulu's ear and face. Lulu was a great sport, full of smiles all afternoon.The mamas even got to enjoy conversation that didn't have to do with poops.

the stockings were hung by the chimney with claire.

Do you ever hear a message or a story or a song and think, that was just for me? Today, that happened to me. I woke up at 5:30 to a teething girl who wanted nothing to do with her crib. Frantic and tired, I made it out of the house in time to hear Leslie share with a group of moms. After hearing what Leslie had to say, my tiny problems seemed well, not so problematic. I felt joyful. We even managed to visit Santa, cross a few more dear ones off of our Christmas list, and decorate the tree. Of all of the decorations, this cardboard angel remains my favorite. There is so much to be grateful for: new friends, tiny teeth, cardboard angels.

we wish you a merry christmas.

Claire's (non-Oma)Grandma has a tradition that I think is pretty sweet. A couple of years ago she showed up at our house with a box of ornaments dating back to 1977 and Nate's first Christmas. My favorites were the ones made by Nate's small hands- macaroni strands and globs of glue. I decided that it would be fun to give Claire her own box of ornaments one day, so this afternoon we attempted a little photo shoot. My idea was for the girl to hold a piece of paper with a Christmas message and the date and then I'd slide the photo into an ornament that I picked up at Target this afternoon. This little project was not without its challenges.

can't. stop. blogging.

hooray!

trying to get myself dooced out of gradschool

My wonderful mother (Claire’s Oma) came all the way to our house tonight to watch the girl while Nate worked late and I tried to pump out some nearly overdue homework. I started out on my computer, but the keyboard decided it would be awesome if a button or two stuck (this has never happened before). Sections of my paper ended up looking like I let Claire or Lindsay Lohan type it for me. I then moved into the living room and began working feverishly on Nate’s laptop. The whole time, my girl is fussing because she knows I’m home and is wondering why in the world I’m not hanging out with her. I’m researching this stuff that seems so silly and small compared to her cries and begin to wonder the same thing. I put down my books and the laptop and she instantly settles on in my arms. So, not surprising, it turns out that the thing I'm best at isn't writing papers or being a graduate student.
I have a few parting thoughts for the insanity, but I'll save that for another post.

commandments

Daily blogging is not for wimps. I've learned a few things in these (29) days of continuous blogging. Here are my commandments of blogging:

Thou shalt not badmouth thine spouse in your blog for easy laughs.
You will be tempted to do so.
It's not worth it.
Don't be afraid to bribe your readers.
Links are your friends.
Lists are good. Comments are good. Guest bloggers are GREAT.
Pictures of your shoes do not make for exceptional reading.
Thou shalt not blog while watching Gilmore Girls.
When it doubt, you can always post another baby picture.

hitting the wall.

Claire is still sick. As a side note, so am I. But as a mom, it really is a secondary thing that she and I have the same cold. My job is to care for her sniffly, clingy self. Between illness and lack of sleep the past two days have been the most difficult of this whole NaBloPoMo experiment. I am tired and spent like I haven't been since the days after we brought Claire home from the hospital. We are far from our schedule, and mama loves a schedule. It's been one of those days when you mean to go get groceries but you accidentally end up at Starbucks, and then later a tea shop. I've managed to fritter away the evening, watching highly educational television. But at least I've got a photo this time for Aunt Dani.

license to ill.

The girl is sick. So much snot. After 27 days of blogging, that's all I've got today.

about the ladies.

I'm posting a link to this great post about breasts, and feeding with them. I love what Alice says here:

Some parts of the breasts are okay--the cleavage, for instance--but the utilitarian parts are, objectively speaking, abhorrent. Victoria’s Secret employees understand this. They spend their days supporting and lifting the objects in question, so they know. And when a nursing woman was asked to feed her child in the employee bathroom, that’s what they were trying to teach her—that those circles in the middle of the breasts are the dirty bathroom parts. And yet she failed to understand. Her response? “I don't eat in the bathroom and my daughter doesn't eat in the bathroom.”

I agree. Except in the bathroom of Nordstrom. That place is a palace. I will not be posting any of the beautiful photos of Claire nursing because, internet, we're just not that good of friends.

suddenly i love statisics.

According to salary.com, a stay-at-home mom's duties are worth $134,121 a year, and a paid mom who works outside the home would earn $85.876 on top of her other wages.

7 months, holy cow.

Dear Claire,
I can't wrap my mind around you being 7 months old today. 7. Whole. Months. I remember when we measured your age in trimesters, and then weeks, now months. Seven of them.

I love so much about this little stage of your life. You laugh easily and all of the time. You sleep a solid 12 hours at night, so I feel so much more like my regular self and I can really enjoy you during the day. We have been the pool and to the swings a lot this November, despite ridiculous rainstorms.

I've been trying to find a good photo of you to include in this letter, but most of them involve food all over your little face. This has been a big eating month for you. You still love sweet potatoes, but now also are a fan of mango and avocado (no pit).

Last night your daddy got you ready for bed and you were cuddling with him on the couch. I walked past and you shot your arms in the air like the Hallelujah Chorus and you said what sounded like mama to us. I had no idea how much I was going to love every little bit of you, but that moment- wow.

Everybody loves you, Claire. Especially me.
Love,
Mama

love thursday, thanksgiving edition.

I love saying "Happy Thanksgiving" to my parents in person this year.
I love not being pregnant.
I love that I fed a ton of people this morning.
I love my babygirl's litte voice.
I love the minutes between bathtime and bed, when its just us.

links and love.

So last night, Nate went to rent us a movie, which was hilarious. He was gone at the video store a very long time and I started to wonder where he might be. He thought that a nice little thoughtful gift was in order. I love thoughtful. He came home with these. According to Nate, they are "the best." Unfortuantely for him, he married a woman who's idea of thoughtful is this or this. Or even this. Even more unfortunate for him, his wife's idea of awesome is this:

what we did yesterday, besides walk with ladybugs.

We went and had Claire's six month picture taken. Perhaps it's time I buy one of those tiny baby combs.

coming soon to a playdate near you.

Claire and I got to take one of our super-long walks, as the weather was uncharacteristically dry. When we headed home, I noticed a ladybug crawling around on Claire's hood. Mother's instinct took over and I swatted the little lady away. But, she was determined. She landed on Claire's wrist and stayed perched like that the rest of the way home, travelling with us several blocks. Then, I remembered.
Some friends are in the process of adopting a child from China, we have prayed for this child since right after I found out that I was going to have Claire. We have joked about playdates and hand-me-downs. I can only imagine how agonizing it must be to wait for your child indefintely. The eight days that followed Claire's due date were torture, and it was only eight days. In adoption circles, a ladybug is a sign of good luck. Here's a photo of the determined little ladybug that joined us today, reminding me of a little girl that will one day be in Sunday School with Claire, and will eat ice cream at my house and will be here with her mama and daddy soon.

oma wants to know.

Will Reese be wearing a pink or green barette?

conversation deconstructed.

"How old is your baby?"
Translation: Is your baby around my baby's age? Let's hang out some time, I'm dying for an adult conversation.

"She has gorgeous eyes."
Translation: Will you be my friend?

"I'm so glad the weather is nice today."
Translation: We could totally be new best friends.

"I'll give you my number, so we can get the kids together sometime for a playdate."
Translation: Please call. Please call. Please call.

I'm finally learning the language. It has taken months for me to realize that these moms at the park are trying to make a connection. That they don't really care how old Claire is, but that they're lonely too. This week I met two moms at the park. They seemed normal and fun and well, I could really use a mommy friend.

It's not like childhood. Making mommy friends is an art. Oh, how I wish there were some Milsteads close by. I would totally ask Ang how old Clark was and defintely try and set up a playdate.

*I searched our attic for a photo of us in when we were small and in white dresses from our first communion. Unfortunately, our attic is a total zoo and the best I could find was this shot of us taken before babies and c-sections and many sleepless nights.

soul food a la chevron.

Bizarre, yet delicious in Fife, Washington.

NoBloShoeMo

I wish I would have thought of this. So much easier than all of this posting. I've been quite the picture of cool, running in and out of the house, discretely taking pictures of my feet while the baby naps. I'm also discovering that perhaps these fur-lined fake uggs weren't such a great idea. I wanted to be warm and cozy, but instead I think I look like Wolverine. All because I wanted to avoid another winter of Newberg Leg.*

half way point.

This posting every day is intense. Today I am taking the advice of the creator of NaBloPoMo, and posting something from YouTube. Eighties fashion, Mr. T and a message about mamas, what's not to love?

for the barette.

I know that you've all been on the edge of your seats wondering what goofy name would be selected for my mom. Nate is lobbying for Grandmanna, Grandma Undertaker or McGrandma. There's still time to turn in your votes. In case you were wondering, YiaYia (pronounced yaya) is Greek for Grandma, and is the Grandma name for one of my most favorite ladies. Oma is German for Grandma, and is mom's choice. Tutu is Hawaiian for Grandma and darn cute too. Thoughts?

claire, this is your daddy.

When I was pregnant, Nate would bring his face close to my belly and say, "Claire, this is your daddy." And she would kick and flip. Every time.
Having been raised primarily by my decidedly non-male mother, I've never really understood the relationship between a father and daughter. A mother and child, I get. But a father and daughter? What does that look like?
Realizing that Nate cares for Claire in the same head over heels, willingly give up multiple nights of sleep kind of way that I do has taken a while to sink in.
One of the habits that I've picked up since becoming a mom is waking in the night and asking searching for Claire. It happened more frequently in the weeks after we transitioned her from our room to her own, but I still find myself asking Nate where she is from time to time. He generally gives me a little pat, mumbles that she's in her crib and tells me to go back to sleep.
Sunday afternoon we all took naps. About an hour after we fell asleep, Nate woke up in a groggy panic asking for Claire. I'm not sure I've ever loved him more than in that moment. It's so nice to not be alone in my love for her. To watch her light up when he comes home, when he flips her upside down, when he blows on her belly. It's a wholly different thing than her connection to me- ours is a connection of cuddles, and warmth and food. She and I can learn together what the love of a father feels like. My cup overflows.

guest blogger: the dad.

I (Nate) got the word from the big bird that I was to be the guest poster in Claire’s blog today and what an honor it is to do so.
I have never been a big fan of journals and the like but blogs? What a cool way to let your family know what’s going on with their loved ones, and when saved on a disk, a great way to let your child know how things were when she was young.

So here goes. Claire, this is your father, a semi-eccentric builder of mechanical metal things. It is very common for me to be totally preoccupied thinking of how I am going to build the next cool, fast, slammed hot rod splitty bus, but as of late all I think of is this gangly, ugly, slow camper bus that I’ve been working on. And how you will totally get a kick out of sitting up in the loft, looking out of the big windows on camping trips and the many adventures we will have with the big blue whale we call the high roof.


Love,
Dad

diagnosis.

I'm guessing most 6 month olds could be diagnosed with pica. According to the DSM IV, "pica is a medical condition typically defined as the persistent eating of non-food items for a period of at least one month. People with pica crave and eat materials such as dirt, clay, chalk, lead chips, laundry starch, dishwashing soap, chalk, burnt matches, and many other non-food substances."
Non-food items that the wee one has attempted to eat today include "a camera chord, kitchen utensils, her own fists, her feet, shoes and one action figure."

without words.

"Seriously, naps are for chumps."

35 things about us.

1. Claire is fascinated with our dog, Monkey.
2. Yes, that’s really his name.
3. Nate, Kari and Monkey once all had the same hair color.
4. As I type this, Nate is restoring a 1960’s Bing surfboard.
5. Some of Kari’s favorite books are A Prayer for Owen Meany, The Secret Life of Bees and Traveling Mercies.
6. Nate reads manuals.
7. He also reads the internet.
8. Claire thinks books are tasty.
9. Claire also has now eaten applesauce, bananas, sweet potatoes and avocado.
10. And breastmilk, lots and lots of breastmilk.
11. Kari’s breasts are sore.
12. Claire and Kari take a walk everyday.
13. Nate builds something everyday.
14. Our family is fully funded by the internet.
15. Not from this website.
16. In the fall, chai or a pumpkin latte would be nice.
17. Claire loves to take baths.
18. Claire has one great grandma left.
19. Claire hated the car for the first 4 months of her life, but has made peace with it now.
20. Kari is beyond thrilled.
21. Kari is an excellent cook.
22. You should try Kari's spagetti.
23. Nate once followed the Grateful Dead to New York.
24. And threw a tomato at Jerry Garcia.
25. At the time, Kari was living in Costa Rica.
26. Nate, Kari and Claire live in a house that was built in the 1920’s.
27. It needs a paint job.
28. The man who lived here before us used that free paint that the city gives you to cover up graffiti to paint THE ENTIRE HOUSE.
29. I’m not kidding.
30. Nora Jones was playing during my c-section.
31. It wasn’t my CD.
32. We also watched Alias during labor.
33. Nate baked a pie and came to a party all to meet a girl.
34. The girl was Kari.
35. It worked.

baby, it's gross outside.

You can't tell from this photo, but the massive pile of leaves that my little pink, puffy bundle is sitting on is our front lawn. The rain let up for us to rake half the yard. Now, we'll take one hot chocolate, one breast milk and a big fat nap, please.

NaBloPo Day 7: fast is good.

So, I've been participating in NaBloPoMo. Today almost became NaBloPoNoMo. It's hard to post when your beloved super-fast wireless internet decides to stop working. Today could also be called NaCaDoMyHoFoMyOnLiCl. That's National Can't Do My Homework for my Online Class day. It's been a frustrating day, made even more frustrating by insane amounts of rain and an MIA hairstylist. Thankfully, my sweet husband understands this stay-at-home-mom's particular brand of internet addiction and our pals at the newly refurbished downtown coffeeshop are here to provide lightening fast wireless internet and my favorite wellness tea.

The polls are still open for goofy grandma names. It's not too late for suggestions, the goofier the better.

Dear Internet,

After 121 posts, I am coming to you with a request. I need a goofy name for my mother. I love it when babies call their grandparents silly sounding names. I have been calling her Grandma Anna, but Claire has an Aunt Anna, so that just won’t do. Also, the woman relocated several thousand miles for the baby, the least she could get in return is a funny name. Plus, I like the having an excuse to call Mom something other than mom.
Will you please help?
Thank you.


PS. To the person who thinks of the best Grandma name, I will give one ultra-cute handmade Claire Barette (in pink or green)...modeled here by my ultra-cute babe.

wishing the paparazzi would leave her alone so she could have a ‘normal’ life.

To me, this looks a little like a small mugshot.

parenting tip.

This month we started (semi-)solid food. As usual, I have gotten a lot of great advice from books and the internet.

"Remember to keep your facial expression pleasant when you are changing your baby's diaper. (With some poops, this may be a real challenge!) He will notice any look of disgust on your face, which may teach him that his private parts are repulsive."-From Super Baby Food by Ruth Yaron

Or, it teaches her the truth: that poops are repulsive. Especially sweet potato poops.

brought to you by the color orange.

Claire woke up with a terrible cold this morning. She kept coughing and sneezing and the only comfort she found was in stopping to wave at herself. She'd start to cry and get this look like, "wait a minute, I could be waving right now" and she'd just stop crying. Here are some pictures from the past week, before the rains and the nasty cold came our way. Here's hoping they don't stay long.

love is...

Trips in rusty buses, goofy mirrored sunglasses and headless photos of our firstborn babe.


For more love thursday, visit Karen's site

because grad school and being a full-time mom aren't enough

NaBloPoMo is an alternative to November's NaNoWriMo, National Novel Writing Month. A novel seemed a bit unrealistic, but a blog post a day might be manageable. In a continuing effort to kick post partum depression in the teeth, I will be participating in my own private thanksgiving ritual this month. Check back often to see my (daily) posts about thankfullness and giving. And of course, plenty cuteness from the wee one.

a livable routine.

Monday, Claire visited the childcare room at the gym for the first time. Walking up to the doors, I felt a tiny lump in my throat and didn't know if I was going to be able to leave her. I didn't anticipate being one of those mothers. But, the childcare workers were great, and Claire nestled into an exersaucer, while I ran my little heart out. The best part of the whole gym experience was that I got to take a long shower without a tiny visitor. Afterwards, Claire had a long nap. Long nap= happy girl. Happy girl= happy mama. We celebrated our perfect day with a trip to the nearby swings.

ps.

This has been a big month of firsts for you. You now roll over like a pro. You especially like to roll when I'm not watching you closely enough. This month, I cut off your little mullet. You discovered the joy of squealing (loudly, and usually at inopportune moments). You LOVE to wave. You make a noise, that to us sounds like you're saying "hi," in a slow, Southern way. You have 2 teeth! You attempt to sit up all of the time. You had a major fall about 2 weeks ago that made me cry. You suck your big toes. You don't mind the car at all any more. You love to listen to the Shins, Great Lake Swimmers and Jack Johnson. Roby Duke makes you very, very sleepy. Leaving the pool brings you to tears. Pears are the devil's fruit, bananas are okay but mama's milk is still your meal of choice.
You are such an exuberant, fun girl. You're the kind of baby that makes people stop and tell me how pretty you are. They're right.
I love you, pooper.
Love,
Mama

6

Dear Claire,
Yesterday, I started a moderately funny letter with theories of why you've been up the last five nights in a row. The letter no longer applies as you slept 9 blessed hours last night. Do you want to know why you weren't sleeping? You were cold. Did I really need seven thousand google searches to figure that out? Thank you for being patient with me. I love you, big six month old girl.
Mama