Bibba

Sending lots of birthday wishes to Libba today. When my sister was born 28 years ago, I was pretty unhappy about sharing the spotlight. But now I will gladly share anything and everything with her. She is my best friend.

Happy birthday, Libba!

Squirmy wormy

Hide the knives and poison, it’s time to baby proof the house. Taylor is getting pretty good at rolling over, scooting and squirming her way to get things. Dare I say it, she’s close to crawling. And while it’s a momentous baby milestone, we have a lot of work to do before our floors and bottom shelves are baby friendly.

Here’s a clip I took this morning of her moving around her room:

As you can see, she’s all over the place. Both physically and emotionally. Serious mood swing. And just so you don’t think that I sit around all day and let my kid have come-aparts without intervening, here’s a clip of what happened about 25 seconds after the last clip:

That’s right. I can get some wicked-good slubbers on that belly.

It’s not you, it’s me

While we were pregnant with Taylor, one of our big concerns was how Ruby would handle the addition of a baby to our house. We were pretty optimistic about it. All of our friends with newborns kept assuring us that their dogs were wonderful and totally accepting of the baby. Ruby’s a good dog, she’ll be great with the baby. Not so much.

And while I’m not saying Ruby’s BAD with Taylor - She hasn’t tried to bite her or sell her to the neighbors - She’s not exactly thrilled with her new sister. In fact, she pretty much wants nothing to do with her. And I totally understand where she’s coming from. Taylor takes LOTS of our attention away from her, plus Ruby’s still healing from her knee surgery. So it makes sense that our four legged daughter is a bit resentful of this new, squirmy, smelly addition to our family.

But now that Taylor is getting more and more interactive, she is absolutely fascinated by Ruby. She’ll just sit there and stare at her, whooping and screeching at Ruby to get her to look at her. It’s pretty pathetic.

I know this rift won’t last forever. I have a feeling Ruby will come around. And when Taylor’s old enough for the highchair and throwing solid food on the floor, I believe that she and Ruby will become best friends.

Not a one trick pony

First off, I would like to thank you all for the support and mommy-tricks to help combat Taylor’s teething and cold. I feel very lucky to have all of you veteran mothers out there passing on this valuable knowledge. If you ever need me to elaborate any of my special skills, such as organizing a pantry, accessorizing an outfit or making a wicked bloody mary, just let me know. Maybe we can use the barter system. If anyone out there has any advice on weaning, then I will gladly divulge the Famous Amys guacamole recipe. Think about it.

Taylor seems to be feeling a lot better. Even though her nose is still pretty stuffed-up, she’s smiling, laughing and jabbering like normal. Her new favorite word is Dadada. And after Chris got home from his weekend at the Ryder Cup, he was greeted with a big, cheesy Taylor smile and her saying, Dadada. To which he pretty much reached into chest, ripped out his heart, put a bow on it and handed it to her.

My daughter also revealed another new baby-trick in the past days, as she is now sitting up without support. She can’t get into the position all by herself, but once she’s there she doesn’t fall over right away. And she’s not completely stable, but steady enough for me to get some pretty cute pictures.

Snot-fest

It all started Wednesday afternoon with the white dot that has appeared in the center-right part of Taylor’s lower gums. The area to where she pushes everything she’s chewing on. Tooth, right? So I rubbed a little numbing gel on it and gave her some Tylenol and lots and lots of snuggles. Thursday morning she wakes up with a stuffy nose which, as the day progresses, turns into a full blown head cold. As if I didn’t think a teething baby was challenging enough. And to throw another wrench at my head, Chris had already left for Louisville to be wined and dined at the Ryder Cup.

So here I am, alone with a congested, cranky newborn and a rehabilitating lab who has accumulated enough nervous energy in the past week to power a small city. And after hearing my daughter suck snot for ten hours, I finally called our pediatrician to see if there was anything I could do to help her. Like try and translate BLOW YOUR NOSE into baby-talk. And when I finally got a hold of the nurse and detailed to her that my five month old daughter was teething and had a runny nose, she responded with, This is your first child, right? Which really means, Ma’am. I’ve got a woman on hold whose son has a bone sticking out of his skin. Use some common sense and call me back if you’re daughter has turned green or sprouted horns.

Seriously though, the nurse gave me some helpful tips and I spent the rest of the day sitting with Taylor in a steamed-up bathroom and installing a cool-mist humidifier. I also tried shooting some baby-saline up her nose, to which her face turned tomato-red and she screamed AT me for an hour. And, even worse, I had to take her temperature for the first time. To which all I can say is, Taylor, Momma is so sorry she had to do that. I PROMISE you I will invest in an ear-thermometer next time we are at the store.

So now we’re on day three of snot-fest, and I can’t tell if she’s feeling any better or if I’m just less neurotic about the whole situation. The nurse said her cold could last up to 10-12 days, which means for the next 10-12 days my routine will be to not put Taylor down all day long, suck boogers out of her nose with a rubber bulb-thingy, put her to bed and then drink a glass of wine the size of a football helmet.

Taylor's favorite aunt

We were very blessed to have Libba make an impromptu trip up to the mountains for a few days this week. It’s always nice to spend time with my sister. Of all the people in the world, only my sister, brother and I know what it is like to have been raised the way we were. And there’s nothing like rehashing old stories of family vacations, high school parties and long lost hometown friends and boyfriends to put a smile on my face. Needless to say there was lots of wine, lots of laughing and lots of Chris shaking his head and trying to understand exactly what is was like to be raised on the Young farm.

And other than telling remember-the-time and guess-who’s-my-friend-on-Facebook stories, we managed to spend many hours relaxing. Something my world-traveling, over-achieving sister rarely does. And because Libba’s unaccustomed to middle of the week naps, I let her borrow my favorite napping accessory. My daughter.

Unfortunately, Taylor was a bit unstable during the visit. Something I blame entirely on teething and not genetics. She is still constantly feasting on her hands. And our hands, and arms and noses. Anything that gets close to my child is seconds away from being covered in her spit. Including her Aunt.

Libba was even kind enough to watch her goddaughter for a few hours while Chris and I went out to dinner. Marking the second meal in over five months that we have eaten away from Taylor. It was quite the change of pace to actually savor a meal as opposed to inhaling it as fast as humanly possible before the baby wakes up or starts crying. We even ordered an appetizer. And not only was the food fabulous, it was even more heavenly to spend some uninterrupted time with my man. So we could talk about our daughter.

And, as always, Libba took some fantastic pictures while she was here. My sister is seriously gifted. Pair that with my daughter’s ability to cheese and I think we could start making some money off this gig. Famous Amys Baby Modeling.

Say my name, say my name

Check this out:

That’s right, bloggers. My daughter said Momma. Kind of. I know it was a total fluke, and by no means does she recognize that I'm her Momma. But she said it. And she said it more than once.

And not only does this video show her amazing vocabulary, but it also demonstrates a bit of Taylor's typical hot-cold personality. We’re having so much fun with Tummy Time and then - BAM! - life is horrible. And then there I am, ignoring her tears in hopes that she says my name again. And such begins my life as a Stage Mom. Make that a Stage Momma.