Happy Birthday Chris

29 years ago today, in a hospital in Duluth, Minnesota, the world was blessed with the birth of Christopher Gregory Amys. And though we would not meet for many years after, my life was changed forever.

Hard to believe that this is his ninth birthday that we‘ve been together, with the first one spent drinking 21 pitchers of beer for $21 at One Eyed Jake’s in Iowa City. And while we’ll ring in 29 with slightly less debauchery, tonight we will toast to all of his many milestones and accomplishments we celebrated while he was 28. So Happy, Happy Birthday to the man who has made all of my dreams come true… and now you only have 365 days left of making fun of me for being in my 30s.

Like peas and carrots

We celebrated Memorial Day with an impromptu get-together at our house with some friends. Danny, Paige and Elliot came, as did Bobby, Chele and Chele’s famous crack-aroni, the most delectable, devilish homemade macaroni in Western North Carolina. A dish that is so cheesy and wonderful that if Chele wasn’t already my soul sister I would find an excuse to be her friend just to share the goodness of the crack-aroni. The weather was fantastic and we all had lots of laughs all while grilling meat, drinking beer and watching Elliot freak Ruby out in her Bumpo-chair.

It’s amazing how fast Elliot is maturing. It’s hard to believe that my itty-bitty Taylor-cakes will be that big and alert in three months. And although they seem so far apart in age now, in a short amount of time they will start to even-out and become the best of friends. Even though Paige and I have been forcing this BFF status while they were still swimming in our tummies, I’m confident we have many years of giggles and tea parties ahead of us.

It's all about the shoes

Check out Taylor styling her first pair of shoes that her Grandma Sue gave her. I had to pair them with her Ralph Lauren jumper, and now all we're missing are a baby set of pearls and a teeny-tiny tennis racket.

Our bullet in the chamber

So I mentioned last week that Taylor has fallen into the routine of having a total meltdown around dinner time every night. No changes there. Don’t get me wrong, she is an absolute angel during the day and I L-O-V-E my child… but five o’clock comes and you’d think I stuck her with pins. One comfort that always seems to work is to put her in the baby sling and wear her. Chris refers to it as the bullet in the chamber, our last resort. We’ll try rocking her, swinging her and singing to her, and if all else fails, put her in the sling.

Not that I mind her being in the sling. It’s comfortable, stylish and great to have her so close. But have you ever tried to cook dinner with a newborn strapped to your chest? Cutting veggies, boiling noodles and getting things in and out of the oven have become an interesting challenge. One bonus is that my thighs are getting super-toned from squatting down to get things out of the fridge. Plus I’ve learned to cut my prep-time down significantly. If I was on the Food Network, my show would be called 20-Minute Meals while wearing a baby and short-shorts. Take that, Rachel Ray.

Five o’clock baby blues

Taylor is five weeks old today and earlier this week we noticed a new routine she is forming. Kind of like the way Cinderella transformed from a princess to a pauper at the strike of midnight, our precious, zen-like newborn turns into a screaming monster about the time the nightly news comes on. And every time she starts wailing, I go through the checklist: Clean diaper? Check. Full tummy? Check. Burped? Check. Mommy putting her head in the oven? Getting close.

Sweet-baby Taylor at 4:58

Monster-baby Taylor at 5:02

When I told my mom about this timely transformation, she just laughed and referred to it as arsenic hour. My brother, sister and I were the same way. When I told Chris’s mom, Sue, about Taylor’s nightly freak-outs she said that both Chris and his brother acted out at that same time of night too. So why didn’t we read about this in any of the ten-million baby how-to books we combed through while pregnant?

Honestly, I’m starting to get used to the night by night melt down. Sometimes she’s comforted by being in the baby sling and me rocking back and forth, sometimes she’s comforted by being swaddled super tight and chilling in my arms, and sometimes she just screams bloody murder and nothing makes it better. But, to be fair, the longer she screams the better she sleeps. So it’s not all bad. And the five o’clock baby blues does seem to coincide with happy hour every night. Fluke? I think not.

So it begins

Taylor and I made a quick trip to The Fresh Market today to pick up a few odds and ends. I now know, of course, that any trip away from the house must be planned hours in advance to make sure she is fed, clean and agreeable. Gone are the good old days of jumping in the car, grabbing a few things and being back in time to see who’s eliminated on America’s Next Top Model. I now appreciate the wonderful convenience of drive-thrus and really wish they were a part of every destination other than the bank, the dry cleaner and Sonic.

We got into the car seat, on the road, out of the car, attached the stroller and into the store without any major disasters, but I knew I was pressing my luck. There is no longer any lingering in the produce aisle, chatting with the butcher or debating between exotic salsas, my shopping experience is now to get in-and-out as fast as possible. We went through check-out, paid and, since she hadn’t exploded yet, we ran out to the car and I got her clicked back in record time. After throwing the stroller in back and jumping in the driver seat, I spot the check-out girl standing on the passenger side. Holding my groceries. She gave me a look like I had one too many mimosas for breakfast, and I laughed and said, Well at least I remembered the baby.

Mini-me, you complete me

Studying Taylor after she was born, I could see some of my features and traits in her. Same nose, same feet, same mood swings when hungry. My parents also said that she looks a lot like I did as a newborn, and they scanned and sent me a few baby pictures to prove it… and, I must say, the similarities are quite obvious.

Let’s just hope that Taylor won’t channel the same awkwardness her mama did during her teenage years with big bangs and red Becca Thatcher glasses.