did you know that babies, in general, are not born with teeth? and at some point in their first year they begin to sprout teeth? honestly! i wouldn’t lie to you! i have dark circles under my eyes to prove it! one day they are toothless little wonder gnomes and BAM! you are huddled in your closet with a bottle of Jack Daniels, rocking back and forth, praying for the whining to stop.

Hannie’s teeth began popping through around 4 months of age. looking back at those first few teeth (the incisors) that was a damn cakewalk. i’d like to have Hannie’s mouth full of incisors. not these evil molars that we’ve been battling for 2 months. they are like the Department of Motor Vehicles of Teeth. they’ll spend a few hours actually working on coming through and “whew! that was tough, i need a cigarette break”.

you won’t hear or see from them in a couple of days and think you’re out of the woods. you’ll have a night or two of full night sleep and then your sweet, placating toddler becomes a maniacal, drooling tasmanian devil . screeching at anything that comes near her or near her mouth.

i haz angree teef!

the great thing about this is that Hannie will not remember one bit of this. kevin and i, however, have the fingernail outlines in our faces to help her. oh yes, i will be that parent. the “i was up with you for HOURS AND HOURS because you were teething. now make me a mojito and DON’T SKIMP ON THE DAMN RUM!”

the hour between 12 a.m. and 1 a.m. are becoming my favorite time of day. for the past month or so that is the time that my bladder wants to party from the eight straight hours of drinking sweet tea. i love me some sweet tea. whenever i get out of bed it prompts Cooper, my loyal, loving, ass-breath terrier mix to get out of bed as well. after i have gone to the bathroom i let her out the back door for her to do her business. it’s bliss.

as i stand on the back porch, bathed in the moonlight, you hear the steady rhythm of the cicadas. no birds, no squirrels dropping 12 inch round walnuts on our roof, no air conditioners cooling off the houses, just quiet noise. i’m 9 years old again. sneaking out in my nightgown to the wooded area behind our house to sit in the small ring of trees. just stop and listen. there are no sirens, no television, no ringing phones, no right and no wrong.

i desperately want to wake up Hanlon and have her experience this time with me. i want her to know that living in the city isn’t always loud and obnoxious. however, i let her sleep peacefully, tucked in with her stuffed friends. i sit down on the top of the porch steps and Cooper joins me. i scratch under her chin and nuzzle her soft ears. i whisper i love you, you crazy pup and she gives me a knowing lick on the nose. her breath is awful and i quickly wipe away the kiss.

the air conditioner kicks on and signals me to go inside. i crawl in bed beside a snoring Kevin and Cooper lies down between us. i place my hand on her head, thankful that i have my little witching hour friend. Kevin’s snoring is droning louder and i quietly ask him to roll over. he complies and i settled down into the cool sheets, thinking of tomorrow’s loud silence.

no, we are not discussing my menstrual cycle. in fact, from now on i think anything relating to my nether regions should probably be kept private. shocking, i know.

Hannie has not been lucky the past couple of months when it comes to illnesses. if there is a germ lingering within 100 yards of her you can bet money she will find it, gulp it down and within 3-5 days become a pitiful, whining mass of baby. most recently has been a string of fever viruses that knock her out like Frazier to Ali. i can handle runny noses and the occassional cough, but these fevers are disturbing and downright scary. her entire body will be hot to the touch, she’ll lie in bed and stare into space, and she’ll sleep for hours. you know she hurts because of her tone. a listless whine will escape her mouth if she is forced to move. the only time she’ll perk up is if food is put in front of her. but even then, it’s a sad and slow process of moving food to mouth.

i’ve blamed daycare, i’ve blamed Publix shopping carts, i’ve blamed myself, i’ve blamed Kevin, with no understanding of what is turning my happy-go-lucky little girl into a zombie. as a mom you want to find the root and remove it. you want to know “why”. you run through every scenario your child has been in and who they have encountered to get the “why” and most of the time “why” is never answered. the best course of action is to watch, be aware, and make sure they are comfortable. even if your toddler know sounds like a wounded sheep. a wounded sheep that was probably in a bario fight with that damn llama.

the one known fact about babies and toddlers is that it is always unknown. until they are able to communicate what is ailing them it is a guessing game most of the time. which for people like me who are OH MAH GAH I HAVE TO KNOW OR I WILL KILL A KITTEN! can drive you a wee insane. i look back now to when she was a newborn and she would scream after every feeding how easy it was to find out she had reflux and to switch her formula to soy and her bottles to Dr. Brown’s. voila! happy baby! but at the time, when you’re in the shit, you want to throw yourself into a vat of boiling oil, because THAT HAS TO be better than listening to your child in pain.

i have to remind myself that my number one job is to make her feel loved, not matter how sick or well she is. she will always get a fever, or a runny nose, or a scraped knee, and it is my job to kiss her and snuggle her and make her feel better. well, me and children’s Motrin.

dear smoosh,

i know, i’ve been a bit lax in writing your monthly newsletters. i could go into a long diatribe about why it has taken me six months to get back to writing your letters but let’s be honest, i got sidetracked with playing. i found my old Nintendo Gameboy Advanced in a drawer and when you go to bed i play Mario Land. it’s a good stress reliever jumping on Koopa’s and finding hidden treasures. it’s been a good release after working full time and taking care of you.

but back to you. in the past six months you’ve accomplished walking and running. sometimes with the ill effects of bashing your precious melon head into a stationary object. it took a while but you finally have no bruises on your forehead which have raised many an eyebrow at Publix. i try to ignore the side-eyes from the checkout girl who i’m sure has her finger poised on the number to CPS. you are so mobile that we have gates all over the house to keep damage control. you have full reign of the house with the exception of the living room where everything breakable is within reach of your long legs and freakishly long arms, including our library of books. you love to pull all of the books onto the floor and after the eleventieth time putting them back we decided to keep you from that part of house. your daddy has cleaned out the office to make a playroom for you, but now that it is summer it is the hottest part of the house, so we tend to keep it shut off too.

your vocabulary has made a tiny explosion. you understand directions more than you can actually communicate. as of now your vocabulary consists of “dog”, “cat”, “duck”, “moo”, “ruff”, “mow”, “ninner” =dinner, “eat”, “cookie”, “bottle”, “cup”, “mama” and “daddy”, “nana”, “bumpa = Grampa. there are a few other words that you use here and there, but no more than “mena me” which we can only guess means “come to me”. you’ll hold up your little hands and twirl them around and demand “mena me” until we pick you up. holding you know is akin to wrestling a pig. you enjoy being danced around but once the dancing stops you turn into a limp dishrag and want to run around.

you adore music in all forms. from Tool to Elmo. anything with a good cadence, you’ll dance to. sometimes you’ll twirl, sometimes you’ll just sway side-to-side. you are such a funny girl. you are no longer a baby. you no longer depend on us 24/7 and while it makes me a little sad, it is also a little freeing. i can stand back now and watch you become Hanlon. the girl who is defiant yet sweet. the girl who adores her animal friends so much she full-body tackles them to the floor for hugs. we’re working on being “gentle”. otherwise Brock is not going to make it to next year with all of his hair.

next week you will move into the Toddler II class at school. they will focus on learning through play, alphabets, numbers, shapes, etc. so far you know A, B and C and 1 and 2. you know the color blue and red. i am amazed at how smart you are and how fast you pick up information. even though you look everything like your Daddy you are all me in personality. stubborn, willfull, social, kind-hearted. you do not meet a stranger. you say “hey” to everyone that passes by and sometimes feel a little hurt when they don’t acknowledge your salutations.

these past few months you have also had your battles with health issues. another set of tubes, which you handled like a champ. walking pneumonia, which turned into full blown right lobal pneumonia, and roseola virus. seeing you sick makes me heart ache. you’re absolutely pitiful and just want to be snuggled. while sad, it’s awfully sweet to feel you need me and your Daddy to cuddle up with to feel better. with the help of your Nana and Grampa we’ve made you better and back to normal. thank the universe for those two people. your Nana and Grampa love you more than the air they breathe. you make their lives complete. you are what they have prayed for for so many years.

Smoosh, i am sure all of the other mothers out there believe their children are the most advanced, bright, beautiful children on the planet and i am one of those mothers. you are an amazing human being. i can’t wait to see who you turn out to be. in the meantime i’ll just revel in your hugs and laughter and learning.

i love you with all of my being,
mama

laaaaaaaaaaaaaa!

can we go out there?!

the face that melts my dark, hardened heart

first birthday cake is yummy!

long legs run in the family

sweet cheeks

pretty princess shoes

Hannie is amazed at your stupidity

she actually has hair! and it only took 15 months!

my dearest Smoosh,

at this very moment i am currently contemplating what is more important: sleep or food. you just went down for the night at a record 6:30 p.m. and after the busy day we had with you, eating seems like the most time consuming activity. why fuel my body when i can sprawl my body across the spit-up and dog hair covered bed? sounds like heaven, no?

i know i will probably use this phrase for most of your infant and adolescent life, but you have changed so much in the past three months. your crawling is akin to something out of a zombie movie. or a world war II documentary. you use your arms to pull your body along the floor, sometimes using your toes as a rudder. you look like a wounded soldier. don’t think that i haven’t thought of painting you green and strapping a little cardboard machine gun to your back. because i haven’t. that would be terrible parenting. (ETA: want to know what else is terrible? i typed this when you had just turned 8 months old. you now are full on crawling, knees and all. and holy crap are you fast!) you are no longer content to just sit back and soak it all in. if we are in one part of the room you must know what is on the other side. even if it was on fire. you are so incredibly inquisitive that i would not be surprised if you became a daredevil firefighter who plays the piano.

all of this motion makes for two very tired parents. you are “go go go” from dawn to dusk. you can now pull up on stationary objects, albeit you are still a bit wobbly. the other day you came home from daycare with not one, but two boo-boo reports. you now sport a nice purple bruise on your cheek and a carpet burn on your forehead. i’m sure the checkout girl at publix thinks we’ve been entering you into a baby fight club. you know the rules though, we can’t talk about that.

your baby vocabulary consists of “dada” (this word encompasses both parents) “duh” (duck) “gogee” (i think this is doggie, but you also say this to the cat, your chair, and the refrigerator). see anything missing in there? has “mama” escaped that cute little bowed mouth of yours? nope. i think you might have said it this evening, but again you were looking at the dog.

you still have a pretty voracious appetite and are willing to try just about anything. except meats. which i don’t blame you. i open a jar of gerber “ham” (and i use that word loosely) and the smell of cat food wafts through the air. you love vegetables and fruits and puffs. the dog loves when it is your dinner time and will stand sentinel under your chair waiting for a stray puff or a pudgy hand covered in squash to dangle from above. this is the first time since we’ve brought you home that she has acknowledged your existence as anything but a thorn in her side.

my little smooshie, you make everything more interesting in our lives. i live and breathe to be in your presence and to be your personal jungle gym. when you open your arms out to me or nuzzle into my hair i melt into gooey mushiness. i fall in love with your dad every day i see you playing together. i promise to make a better effort to post your stories more consistently. just understand that i’ve been lax because i’ve been playing and teaching and loving you.

love,
mama

typically we eat dinner after Hannie has gone to bed. more times than not it is something simple like a frozen pizza, chili in the crockpot, or something similiar that you can just dump the ingredients into a dish and bake. no fuss, no muss. the other day kevin wanted hot dogs for dinner but needed to pick up buns. he comes home from the grocery store and this was the ensuing conversation:

me looking into the grocery bag: “hot dog buns and red wine?

him: yeah, and?

me: sounds like we’re in for a classy night.

opening scene: interior: i am in the dining room feeding Hannie her dinner. kevin is in the kitchen doing lord knows what. i hear the water running and a pot go on the stove.

me: what are you doing in there? i thought we were just going to re-heat leftovers.

kevin: i’m boiling the nipples.

me: sounds like an awesome band name!

kevin: boiling nipples?

me: yeah! Live, this Saturday night, at the Five Points Music Hall it’s….BOILING NIPPLES!!!!

i proceed to headbang and chant BOILING NIPPLES! BOILING NIPPLES! to a death metal cadence, and throwing up my rock hands.

well, atleast i got a laugh from Hannie.

dear buddy,

this month we went on your first road trip. a twelve hour road trip. across three states. can you hear the tone of my voice in this kid? does it sound anything like i’m talking through clenched teeth? because i am. in all honesty you were the perfect traveler going up to lake toxaway, north carolina. you slept most of the way and when you were awake you were happy and playful. once we arrived at our destination you were immediately taken from me and i think i got to hold you once the entire weekend and that was only because i accidentally banged your chubby little legs on your stroller and you WAAAAILED. apparently when a baby is screaming everyone within a 100 yard radius scatters like cockroaches. wusses.

if i was to ever take another vacation not only would i bring your nana and grampa, but i’d bring The Grammas. this is a group of retired, RV’ing ladies who obviously do not get enough baby cheeks in their diet. you were constantly fussed over, snuggled, bounced, and burped. sadly none of these women were around on our trip home. the trip in which you whined for 5 hours. the only time you weren’t whining was when you had a bottle jammed in your face. that trip home made the entire trip to see your grandparents seem like we were being punished a la Waco tactical strategy. “i hope you had a great time being a weird and creepy cult, now listen to some Metallica at ear shattering decibels”.

you have single handedly set my amazement to all new highs. just this past week you’ve starting waving. mostly at anything that passes by but HOLY SHIT YOU’RE WAVING! this tiny human interaction blows my mind. you can’t talk but you are so expressive. whether you’re studying something so intently that your little tongue sloooowly creeps out the side of your mouth or you are laughing at the most ridiculous noises your father and i can make (in the Publix as we’re grocery shopping) or gobbling up a new food we try with you, you never cease to make life completely magical.

you have changed your night time schedule a bit, to the dismay of your father. he loved rocking you at night, letting you drift off in his arms. one day, out the blue, this was no longer acceptable. there was much grunting and flailing of arms. i tried rocking you, with the same result. you were becoming too independent. at the suggestion of the fantastic Dr. Richard Ferber (Solve Your Child’s Sleep Problems) after your bath and a bedtime story i put you in your crib with you pacifier and your lovey and you went right to sleep. no crying, no fussing, just dozed off. since then we have repeated the same method and most nights you put yourself to sleep. occasionally there is a bit of writhing and pacifier replacement but eventually you’ll get to the point “and she’s out”. now when you wake up you babble to yourself until i come and get you and sing the Good Morning song. you’ll look at me as if to say “mama, there you are! i knew you’d come and get me so i did some quartic equations while i waited!”.

buddy, you’ve grown into the daughter i always imagined. you’re happy, well adjusted, frustrating, bull-headed, and beautiful. you are incredibly loved and missed every day. i rush home at the end of every day just to see your smile and to make you giggle. i will make you the promise that at the end of every day i will kiss you and hug you and say i love you if you promise to give me your smile that makes my heart melt.

love,
mama

you rang?

hanging out on the front porch

going on a trip? i’m all you need!

let’s pray about something, grampa

HOORAY! NANA!

Grampa makes me giggle

you can’t be serious

it’s tough being this cute

Hanner Nanner,

are you looking for your 4 month newsletter? yeah, it’s not there. why? because mama is tired. so very, very tired. okay, not that tired, but let’s just say that i had better things to do. like smooshing your cheeks, reading you a story, keeping you fed, clean, and overall happy. i’m certainly not going to win Mother Of The Year anyway so i’m not going to pretend like i am one.

i think the most important news to be announced is that YOU CAN HEAR! why don’t we just take a moment to soak that nugget of information in, shall we? aaaaaaaaaaaaaah. your tubes did exactly what they were intended to do and that was to drain the fluid in your tiny little ears. the morning of your post-operative exam and audiologist appointment i think i swallowed a pint of vomit. my stomach was in complete knots. and though everyone on the planet was so incredibly certain that you would pass the hearing test i, being your mother, still had my concerns. we mothers are anxious like that. i think it gets pumped into the IV during birth. the audiologist sat us in the chair and placed the nodes in your ears and watched the computer graph read a symphony of peaks and valleys. i just stared at the back of your head and tried to not eat your peach-fuzz hair. she then said a sentence that i had been longing to hear since you were born: “she passed”. i bawled. as my big, fat tears were raining down your forehead you looked up and smiled. increase bawling. i apologized to the audiologist for snotting up the place. she nodded in approval and handed me a tissue. i immediately called your father and he said “see, i told you”. i’ve never wanted to punch someone so much before in my life. i danced all the way to the car and on the car ride home we listened to Modest Mouse.

you now have two teeth on your bottom row. the first is Fred. he’s a conservative republican that loves guns, pabst blue ribbon and hound dogs named Bocephus. he also likes to keep you up at all hours of the night, prodding your gums with his sharp head. there were two nights in particular that i would have given my right arm to get you to settle down. you were up every hour grunting and whining. i’ll address your whining in a moment, for now just know that when you are teething you’re not fun to be around. the second tooth is Betty Fine Collins. she is as much of an asshole as her namesake. just ask your father who slept in the recliner with you for three hours just so you would sleep. the amount of drool that comes from your mouth during teething is enough to keep the neighborhood in good lawn conditions. drought problem? here, have some drool.

so, back to the whining. it isn’t so much a whine as it is a fingernail on a chalkboard. eeeeehhhhhuuuuhhh. a guttural sound that makes my skin prickle and my eyeballs shoot from my head and dangle from the sockets. out of all the sounds you make, this is my least favorite. or couldn’t you tell? thankfully, the only time you are ever whiney is when you are tired or bored. i tend to spend my time with you avoiding those two instances. i’m forever trying to find new ways to make you laugh. oh, that sweet high pitched laughed. you laugh with your throat much like i do. kind of a cackle with a chortle aftertaste. if your laughter were a dessert it would be carrot cake.

this month we started you on solids. first rice cereal mixed with formula and then oatmeal with formula and finally sweet potatoes. oatmeal is by far your favorite. when i fed you sweet potatoes you shuddered with your whole body and emitted a sound akin to an emu who was dying from knife wound. a knife wound received from a gangfight in a Filipino baryo. solids has been an interesting ride. i’m still not sure what i’m doing half the time. it is pretty fun to watch you realize what your tongue can do. roll food around your mouth, blow raspberries, make “la la la aaaa goo” noises. i could listen to you all day long. as long as it isn’t that whining noise.

next month you will be half a year old and i will probably die of shock. but not before i eat your chubby legs. and maybe a yummy foot.

i love you puddin’ pants,
mama

Hannie, my love:

you turned 3 months old this week and to celebrate you got an awesome case of diarrhea. i’m always saying that it’s not a party unless you’re crapping your pants, so way to go kiddo! i think of all the time you’ve been on this planet this was my favorite and most heartbreaking month. you see, the minute i decided i had enough of this stay-at-home mom business and go back to work you simultaneously turned into an actual baby. with a personality! that can do things! and with 59% less fussiness! alas i went ahead with my plan to return to work and place you in day care. this decision that was made before you were born and one that i had no idea would turn me into a sobbing mess.

day care has been a blessing and a curse. you apparently have so much to see and do during the day that naps are of no consequence. thus, when your father picks you up in the afternoon you can barely keep your eyes open. the good part about this is that you have done so much during the day that you sleep like a champ. the downside is that i feel i have no quality time with you. it sometimes feels like a mad dash to get you into bed before you turn into a monster that resembles an infant version of The Incredible Hulk. baby, SMASH! i know that as you get older we’ll probably look back at this and laugh, “remember when we’d fight her to stay awake? yeah, that was hilarious! now where is that baby Ambien?” having you in daycare also makes me feel like a better mother. i’m more patient with you. when it was just you and i at home i would watch the clock and bite my nails until 5 p.m. when your father came home. i then would toss you in his arms, grab a beer from the fridge and sit on the back porch in utter silence for ten minutes. don’t get me wrong, being with you is awesome, but after 10 straight hours of feeding, rocking, changing, doing, talking, singing, swinging, looking, moving i was becoming a lunatic. now i come home, meet you with open arms and try to not let go until it’s time to go to bed.

you are quickly meeting many of your milestones. some are considered “advanced” for your age. you are blowing bubbles, holding your head up, bringing your hands together, and visually track moving objects. my favorite milestones though are your laugh and your ability to imitate sounds. when you start to become tired you make this noise that sounds like “diggle diggle diggle”. the first time you did it i laughed so hard i cried. this made you incredibly happy. now, i can say “diggle diggle diggle” and you will copy me. i will laugh and you will smile and i just want to smoosh you together and eat you up.

this month you will have tubes placed in your ears to drain the excess fluid that has been hindering your hearing tests since birth. this surgery is a source of great excitement and extreme anxiety for us. you are still responding to loud noises and the occasional words and though in my heart i know you can hear, this will give us the solace that we did what it took for you to hear your Grampa sing “Danny Boy”.

puddin’ pop, you are truly a remarkable and awe-inspiring human being. i’m amazed that your father and i created something so beautiful. not that we’re ugly people, mind you.

love,
mama

hi there, you.

they did what?!

i’m showing you my muscle

this kid is so happy, she smiles in her sleep