Very Professional

Genevieve turned six months old this week. It's amazing how much a life changes in six months. I can honestly say that I have never loved anyone as much or as fiercely as I love her.

This is the face that faked a thousand sneezes.

Recently, there have been a lot of huge developmental leaps for her, including reaching for me (!!!), teething, crawling/inchworming, growing, sitting, and uttering her first, clear, intentional word: Mama. (Mom heard it, too. Apparently, first words don't count unless you have a witness. And possibly a notary.)

Don't turn your back. Don't look away. And don't blink. Good luck.

As we all know, change isn't easy, and developing neural pathways is flat-out exhausting. Genevieve has needed me more than she has before, in what I refer to as the "MOMMYMOMMYMOMMY" way. Meaning, nobody can make it better but me (and Andrew, but it's a hard sell, evidently).

She wants to physically be touching me almost all the time, which is a little challenging. She's close to 20 lbs already, and there have been a few days in the last few weeks where my lower back - and occasionally, knees - just *ache* with fatigue. And pain.

My core strength disappeared while I was pregnant, and I am slowly working on rebuilding it, partly by putting Genevieve in the Ergo carrier and bouncing on my pilates/birth/bounce-your-baby-to-sleep ball.

And it works! I do what I can while I wear her (which isn't much) and she sleeps soundly. I remind myself that housework will wait, and a well-rested baby is a happy baby. Happy babies usually have happy Mommies, and we all pay that love forward.

You can hear her snoring lightly in the background, if you listen for it.

Despite our challenges and growing pains, I love everything about her. I love sewing for her.

Dandelion nighties

I love that she has found her voice.

All of the things, they go in my mouth.

(Even though that voice is occasionally providing the dialog to - what sounds like - a very complicated and dramatic original telenovela, featuring the dastardly wooden bird on her play gym. From what I have observed, he is *quite* the villain.)

"¡Ay, no! ¡Tu eres muy mal, Pajaro!"

She still has a fantastic smirk, which I believe is courtesy of Unkie Sam, an Olympic a champion smirker.

How YOU doin'?

But really, I love all of the faces she makes. Especially her excited face, which usually is accompanied by a full-body wiggle. Because, to quote the Pointer Sisters, she's so excited, and she just can't hide it.

Wigglewigglewigglewigglewiggle, yeah!

She also learned about kisses, and she LOVES them. They only count if they're noisy and you say, "MWAH!" while you give her kisses. And the best part? She loves giving us kisses, too. (They're more like puppy kisses, but it's all about the intention, which is completely heartwarming.)

I love that she still laughs in her sleep- full, belly laughs. I also think it's charming that she will do the Ernie laugh.

You will do anything to make me smile.

Best of all, if you look closely when she laughs, you can see two Very Professional Teeth.

Mouse teeth!

A matched set

This last Saturday was all about Big and Little. (Which totally reminds me of Grover Monster's Near and Far bit.)

I'll admit it. I am a HUGE fan of matching stuff. When KidBrother Sam and I were little, Mom used to make us matching outfits. If Mom sewed me a dress, she sewed a matching one for my stuffed pig, Perfect. I LOVED it.

So, I'm knitting a few matching mother-daughter sweaters for Genevieve and me, starting with the Garter Yoke Cardigan, out of my handspun:

Also, matching dimples.

I loved knitting these sweaters. I think I might make matching ones in another color, once she outgrows this one. (That should be in about 12 minutes, for the record.) The thing I may love best (about the sweaters) is that my buttons are the same as the ones on Genevieve's sweater- except that mine are a little bigger.

TOES!!!

You may have noticed that she's wearing a hook bracelet. In Andrew's family, there is a tradition that when you go to St. Croix (and everyone does, eventually), you get a hook bracelet. Hook bracelets are worn at all significant family functions.

You can imagine how charmed and delighted I was when we opened a gift from Andrew's Uncle Ted (and family), and it was the tiniest hook bracelet you've ever seen. Given how big Andrew's hook bracelet is, I found it even more adorable, and an incredibly thoughtful gift.

The Biggest and Littlest

When I was taking these pictures, I also noticed that Genevieve's outfit has a crab on the butt, and Andrew is wearing one of his Portland, ME lobster shirts. Total coincidence.

(Yes, I know that crabs and lobsters are totally different, but you see how they're *kind of* the same, too, right?)

Peas in a pod.

Down to our accessories, we're a matched set.

Real Moms

I seem to be fixated on this idea of "real". You know, like being a "real" GrownUp. Recently, the new obsession is with being a Real Mom_TM.

Don't confuse being a Real Mom_TM with being a Mom. Moms love, nurture, comfort, and parent. Real Moms_TM (by my standard) are the Moms that cook, bake, play, and create. I knit, yes, and I have (FINALLY) finished a few sweaters for Genevieve.

But Real Moms, they sew. And now, Real Moms_TM, I AM ONE OF YOU!!!

I used McCalls 8574

Last year my friend, Marvelous Maribel, was destashing a HUGE amount of beautiful knit fabric, and bequeathed it upon me- with the proviso that I started sewing.

My initial attempts were on a Singer Touch and Sew (which Elaine, the Singer Fairy, referred to as a Singer Yank and Curse) were ... not great. But a sewing machine is a sewing machine right?

Wrong.

The Yank-and-Curse was miserable to work with. It would jam. The slidy part over the bobbin had lost the latch, so that would come off and take forever to reseat. Mom offered to let me use one of her machines, but I'll be honest, I was so frustrated that - while I said it would be fine - my heart said, "Just forget about it."

Fast forward to Abby selling me Bernadette (my beautiful Bernina 910), and (later) the serger Andrew bought me for Mother's Day. It's amazing what having good equipment will do for you. (Also, let the record reflect that a serger isn't the same as getting a vacuum cleaner for mother's day.)

I have been assembly-line sewing nighties for Genevieve and it brings me immeasurable joy. Not only did we need more nighties for her, but these are easy to get on and off of her, and the lighter weight nighties are perfect for the warmish weather we have been having.

Oh, Envelope neckline! How I do adore you.

It could be mathematical in nature:

[Someone you grew] + [something you made] = Happiness

Pardon me; I'm off to sew (more) for my baby.

Lessons in motherhood

Me: I just feel crazy for worrying about Every. Little. Thing.
Mom: Welcome to Motherhood. It comes with the territory.

Blue Steel

Carcharias, canines, cuteness

Genevieve is teething.

"ROOOOOAR!"

Does it remind anyone else of this?

(Photographic dramatization)

Oh, good.

But seriously, wow. Teeth! They're so exciting, and there is nothing cuter than a lopsided, toothy grin, but, sweet mother of purl, my poor kid.

She's chewing on everything she can get her little hands on- especially Andrew's fingers, which - per my tech support buddy - DaddyFingers were both his kids' (and his grandkids') chewie of choice. (My poor computer has been having some real issues. My tech support buddy and I have gotten very close, if you couldn't tell.) I even polled Facebook for teething comfort measures.

We've tried frozen washcloths, we've tried classic teething rings, we've tried the teething bonbon (which we refer to as Genevieve's chilly bone), and we've tried green onions - which were a BRILLIANT suggestion from one of Genevieve's knitting aunties. (The green onions worked remarkably well, but WOW, a baby with onion breath is nothing short of shocking.)

I'm still nursing, and nursing a tiny shark teething baby is an interesting proposition. Whenever I have a question about anything boob-related, I turn to my breastfeeding bible. (Out of perverse fascination alone, I read the bit about nursing teething babies a long time ago, both there and in The Baby Book.)

Fortunately - and I have a hard time tying "fortunately" to the whole concept of being bitten - Genevieve did most of her biting before the tooth erupted. She would clamp down on me (usually) if my gaze had wandered anywhere but her charming maybe-green-maybe-brown eyes. So we used the same trick (training?) that we used when Niki went through his mouthy phase all those years ago.

[The trick, in case you're curious: immediately after a bite, break the latch, hold baby away from boob for 10-15 seconds, then offer the boob again. Three bites and baby gets handed to someone without The Boobs.]

She's been a little fussy - but, wouldn't you be? I remember when my wisdom teeth made their presence known, and WOW. Uncomfortable. 

I sewed the blanket she's laying on!

If only my mother had thought to swaddle my 16-year-old self, we might have all been a little more cheerful.

We all scream

WARNING: This blog post may make you gain weight.

Last weekend, our AMAZING neighbors invited us over for a casual barbecue. We live in a nice neighborhood, but what makes it truly great is the community that we're working on building. (My contribution to community building is baked goods, in case you were curious.)

It was a pot luck arrangement, and we were assigned dessert. In case you didn't know, dessert is a BIG DEAL. Everyone remembers dessert; especially if it's good. A bad dessert will *literally* leave a bad taste in people's mouths. (Top Chef proves this over and over and over again.) I needed something that EVERYONE would love, from age 2 on up, for a hot day.

Ice cream. PERFECT!

To make ice cream, you need to do a little planning. You need ingredients (duh), a recipe (or book of DELICIOUS recipes):

An ice cream maker:

And/or this ice cream maker:

I say we require planning because both ice cream makers have freezer bowls, which really do need to be frozen 24 hours in advance of use. Fortunately, ours live in my Standing Freezer of Love (Dr. Chill, whom I got as a Valentine's Day gift when we got Richard Blaze), ready at a moment's notice to serve my whims. And serve they do!

If you clicked through, you'll see that the smaller one claims to be a 1 1/2 quart ice cream maker- which is a lie. It does 1 quart comfortably. When Costco put the 2 quart one on sale, I snapped it up with the intention of finding a new home for the smaller one.

I could talk about all the varied paths my good intentions are busy paving, but we can skip that, right?

So.

Ice cream.

I decided to do two quarts of a tried-and-true favorite, the Ben & Jerry's Sweet Cream. Then, I picked up my trusty copy of The Perfect  Scoop and picked out the Aztec "Hot" Chocolate recipe. Pepper is chocolate anything is all the rage these days, and this ice cream is a prime example why. It's totally, 100%, full of MMMMMMM.

(Recipe notes, I used Penzey's Dutch Process Cocoa, ancho chile powder, and chipotle chile powder. I actually use Penzey's spices exclusively in my cooking; they're excellent and extremely well-priced. No affiliation, just a happy customer.)

But three quarts felt... unbalanced. We had chocolate and "un"-vanilla. And half a flat of fresh strawberries. Any other woman would have sliced the strawberries and served them on the side. Not me.

Nope.

I flipped through my trusty ice cream recipe book and found the recipe for Strawberry-Sour Cream Ice Cream. The thing you need to know is that I HATE STRAWBERRY ICE CREAM.

Or so I thought.

Apparently, store-bought ice cream tastes nasty, and homemade ice cream tastes like absolute heaven. It curls your toes and feeds your soul. And it takes a minimum of effort. (By minimum, I mean macerate strawberries, blend, chill, throw in ice cream maker, eat.)

It was so easy, we through together a double batch for the knitting group at the last minute- and it was ready about 10 minutes after they showed up.

The ice cream? Was a resounding hit with the neighbors, their kids, and the knitting group.

Do yourself a favor. Make some ice cream. Just be warned: it's completely addictive, and totally worth it.

33

Andrew turned 33 this last week. To celebrate both his birthday *and* Genevieve's rolling over milestone, he took the week off of work to get cracking on childproofing our house. (We will NOT be caught unprepared again.)

You can see the Danger Gleam_TM in her eyes.

I listed a number of his good qualities last year, but with this year's Major Life Change, that list has grown.

Genevieve brings out the best in you: you are patient, kind, and calm.

SuperDad in action!

Even when she is screaming her head off, you keep your cool and rock the 5 S's like a champ. You've worn a groove in our hallway bouncing and shushing and - even though we need to refinish the floors - I think it's a testament to your excellent parenting.

You regularly get up early on the weekends to give me a couple of hours of precious, precious sleep while you spend quality time with our daughter. Once I get up, you make breakfast and coffee.

Quality time in the glider

I love our morning Civilised Breakfasts_TM- where I get up during Genevieve's morning alert time, make breakfast, and then we drink our coffee and eat breakfast without computers, phones, or any of the other modern conveniences that could rob us of our civility while she plays.

I love that you are on board with all of my Attachment Parenting ideas, including limiting/restricting Genevieve's access to television- and that we started listening to the Hunger Games Trilogy together. I also appreciate that you didn't say ONE WORD about me weeping into my dinner at the end of Mockingjay. (You are the "nice one", after all.) I love that you're asking about what we're going to listen to next.

I love that you are into wearing Genevieve (in the Moby or the Ergo), and that you know that the measure of a man isn't being cowed by other people's opinions. (Except for mine, of course. Babywearing dads are super-hot.)

I love that you are thoughtful, and that thoughtfulness extends out to my mom, too. We are both still enjoying our bouquets of roses for Mother's Day.

I love watching you play with Genevieve.

Super-wiggly baby!

I love how your eyes sparkle when you look at her.

You see it, too, right?

I love how you've risen to the challenges of parenting, and you make it look effortless.

Okay, some times are easier than others.

Most of all, I love that you have a sense of humor when it comes to me, my crazy ideas, and the honey-do list I set up for you on Pinterest. I love that you still heckle me over thinking that Queen was a one-hit wonder band for Bohemian Rhapsody, since I didn't realize that I know (and like) a lot of their songs.

I love that you pick cute clothes for Genevieve. I am simultaneously terrified and intrigued at the thought of what you'll pick once I really start sewing for her.

Parallel impromptu naps!

I hope Genevieve marries someone just like you someday. But not in a creepy Electra complex way.

Happy (belated) birthday, hubs.


[SIDE NOTE: I swear he owns more than just the "Got Crabs?" t-shirt that he got at The Crab Pot on our honeymoon.]

Milestones and mimosas

It's been busy around these parts.

First, I finished DangerMouse's mini garter yoke cardigan; a smaller version of one I knit for myself out of my handspun yarn.



Unfortunately, it was just in time for a ridiculously hot week. Lest I miss my brief window of opportunity to photograph her in it, I grabbed a shot early one morning.

I have also started sewing, and I LOVELOVELOVE it! Sure, I'm only sewing baby blankets at right now, but I'm learning techniques that will translate into other projects, too.



Genevieve has been hitting milestones left and right, including rolling over and grabbing her toes!



There has also been the beginnings of teething,



Genevieve is chewing on EVERYTHING. Fingers, toys, her play gym. I may have called her a tiny termite the other day. The best/most terrifying part is how she goes in for the bite- like a shark.

When she's working on one of your fingers, it is NOT the time for kisses on her cheek. Because she'll try to chew on anything. Noses, chins; nothing is safe. Teething babies need tough, fearless parents.

I can feel the bumps under her gums when she gnaws on my fingers, and she's starting to look at our plates hungrily.



She still smiles in her sleep, which I find endlessly charming. A new development is that she will babble in her sleep, which proves that she's my daughter. (KidBrother Sam and I both talk in our sleep. I have even been known to enable in my sleep, if Meghan is to be believed.)

We celebrated my first Mother's Day with our family and some close friends. We had a delicious, decadent brunch.



And of course, mimosas.

Love in a Time of Productivity

In the last four months, I have learned that sometimes you snuggle because it's fun, sometimes you snuggle because your baby needs snuggles, and sometimes you snuggle because *you* need it. Friday was the latter.

DangerMouse had her four month checkup last week. 95th percentile for height, 90th percentile for weight, 25th percentile for head size. Fun fact: our pediatrician (who will henceforth be dubbed Dr. FTW) told us that DangerMouse looks a lot like Andrew. In her culture, that means Genevieve will be very successful.

I'll take that. Especially since she didn't tack on "... as a stripper" to the end of that sentence.

(Truth be told, while I would rather Genevieve *not* be a stripper, if she decides to go that route, I would hope she was a very successful one.)

[FUTURE GENEVIEVE: DO NOT BE A STRIPPER.]

How did this become about strippers? Quick, palate cleanser!

Sweater and hat both by DangerMouse's knitting aunties

In four months she has gone from a scrawny 6 lbs 11 oz to a robust 15 lbs and 11 oz. I'm still kvelling over this. I've also been reading  The 10 Habits of Happy Mothers, which I checked out from the library on a lark.

I'm finding it helpful, partly because it addresses a lot of the less-than-sparkly feelings that sometimes accompany new motherhood, and partly because I'm more mindful of some of the things I can actively work on. Like being frustrated that I'm not getting enough done.

Enough of what? Genevieve is fed, clean, and mostly cheerful. We talk, we sing, we play, we nap. We don't run 400 errands and do 8000 things every day; or every week even. But, I am trying to stay positive and treasure the time I have with her while she is small.

Matching hats at the Farmer's Market

Andrew says he feels it too, the feeling that he's unproductive. But it's things like the picture with their matching hats that reminds him that everything else isn't as important. He's right.

For now, I'll take the snuggles where I can get them, because like the poem says, "I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep."

Four months

Today, Genevieve is four months old. I can easily say that in the last four months, my life has done a complete 180º. Being a Mom isn't easy, and not all of my days are good days. But the good moments and good days make my heart swell with all those excellent mommy hormones that the books promised.

I love staring at her.

She's amazing, and probably the smartest, funniest, and most talented baby in the whole world. No bias here; just the facts. She's growing like a weed, and every day I have the distinct privilege of watching her world get *just* a little bit bigger every day.

I think the best thing (to date) was on St. Patrick's Day, when she realized that Mealtime Is For Talking. Our family is the kind that can make dinner last six hours; we're having a great time telling stories, jokes, and enjoying all the elements of a family meal.

"Oh, Unkie Sam. Not THIS story again!" (Picture by Laura)

At mealtime, she'll sit on someone's lap, and babble and laugh away. I'm endlessly charmed by it. Connections are being made; I put her down in her crib for a few minutes, and I heard her talking to her stuffed dinosaurs, pause, and then HYSTERICAL laughter. I can only assume she was doing stand-up for them.

She rolled over for the first time this last week, and there have been no shortage of other milestones- discovering that hands were for reaching, finding her feet, and then actually INTENTIONALLY reaching for things! And grabbing them!

In related news, I'm wearing my hair in a ponytail again.

Other fun DangerMouse facts:

- Farts are funny. It doesn't help that everyone who helps change diapers laughs when she farts. I know that we are unintentionally reinforcing this.
- We love the word "booty". Also "naked" and "squish".
- Fake sneezes will still get her mother to say "gesundheit". Which is another funny word.
- She laughs in her sleep.
- She can work a room. She's all smiles and charm when we're out and about.
- She can sleep through dogs barking, loud music, hammering, leaf blowers, and the sewing machine.
- When she stretches, she makes the Blue Steel face from Zoolander.
- Any problem can be solved through the judicious application of a fresh diaper, a boob, or some time in the baby sling. (We have loved the Moby Wrap from the start and the ERGO now that she's stable enough for it.)

The most important thing I've learned in the last four months? Everything else can wait.