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

mer-girl.

Moisture is the essence of wetness, and wetness is the essence of beauty.
-Derek Zoolander

While Nate was away at Lake Bradley and surfing on the newly restored Bing board, Claire, Grandma Anna and I went to the pool. While we weren't riding big waves, it was tons of fun to watch my girl freak out about the pool. For a first timer, she was fearless, and swam herself silly, despite hunger and fatigue. She even attempted to nurse through my swimsuit so she could stay in a bit longer. At that point, I had to follow the "no food or drink in the pool area" rule. We had so much fun, I'm sure we'll be back next week.

infant sign language not necessary.

Translation: "No really, Mom. I HATE this chicken suit."

angry chicken

So I guess we're going costume shopping this afternoon.

to the 'patch!

Claire and I went to the pumpkin patch this morning with our mom's group. Highlights were: picking out our pumpkin, a hayride, (for me) warm donuts and cider, and (for the babe) chewing on the chord from mama's camera. We had a great time...looking at her little round pumpkinhead, I know how lucky I am.

for you, old bus.

This weekend, we found a bunch of abandoned screenprinting gear at a thriftstore. To Nate, this was quite the gold mine. By the end of the weekend, he had printed up some cool shirts for his customers and even a onesie for the girl.

my wee girl

Claire and I frequently take baths together before her bedtime. Last night she "went" in the tub. A lot. Perhaps she was getting me back for putting her in this outfit.

ode.

This post is inspired by something I read here.

I hadn’t thought about writing of the physical love that a mother feels for her child, not because I haven’t felt it, but some aspects of loving Claire seem either so personal or so big that I knew I couldn’t do them justice. After reading some beautiful posts from other blogging mamas, I knew I had to try.

I have never really been a “baby person.” When friends had babies, I was happy for them but wasn't one to want to hold or cuddle a baby. All of this changed the day I met Claire. Five months later, I still can’t get enough of her. Her smooth little cheeks, all of those little leg rolls. How she lounges in the bath pressed against me. I look at her and to me, she’s a miracle.

On more than one occasion, I have said out loud that I know that this child could break my heart. And sometimes there’s this tiny ache knowing that it’s all going to go so fast. Despite the certainty of her leaving our home, leaving me, I love her fiercely. Maybe that's the miracle of mothering. Despite our bruised hearts and baggage, despite how we sometimes feel about our own mothers, we go on loving our tiny ones, knowing full well that it can't last.

No one tells you that as a mother, sometimes calmly watching your baby in someone else’s arms feels as easy as calmly watching your husband climb into your bed with another. I am ridiculously protective of my small one. And sometimes it's hard to share. She's turned me into a sap. Just prior to taking out the camera, Claire was babbling and cooing. She apparently didn't want to perform for the camera, but, sap that I am, I still love watching her do nothing.

about a day.

Yesterday was the kind of day that makes me proud to be a mother. Claire and I drove up to Portland for a little spice-getting adventure. We sang in the car (mostly I sang while she made her noises), I remembered to bring extra toys to keep her entertained and took things at a good pace for a five month old. Before heading home, we stopped at the mall to get Claire's haloween costume, while there, I changed the World's Sickest Diaper. I was feeling pretty great about my mad mothering skills when I realized that my child would have to go comando for the first time in her little life, as I had forgotten clean diapers in my well-stocked bag. Sweet. Returning the World's Sickest Diaper to her now clean bum wasn't an option as the thing had definitely reached capacity. Claire gave me a confused look as I pulled up the now gaping onesie. We dashed out of mall in search of a fresh diaper. Thankfully, we made it to the car in time to avoid the embarassing spectacle that is public urination.

to the future Mrs. Games:

We love somebody in Denver, too, even if our eyebrows would suggest otherwise.