Take a Chill Pill

Sometimes this whole "being a mommy" thing gets to you.  It gets inside of your head and tells you that you're not creative enough, patient enough, fun enough.  For no particular reason at all it will occur to me that I haven't played "This Little Piggy" with you yet or sang "Row Row Row Your Boat" and feel like I've ruined you for life.  Silly I know.  But this is what led me to frantically play peek-a-boo with you this morning.  So much so that you looked a little terrified.  Mommy had temporarily lost her mind.  


Someone close to me suggested that I stage a few napping pictures of you, like the ones from Mila's Daydreams.  I think I will give it a try because it looks like so much fun.  Of course, my initial thought was that we were running out of time and needed to hurry up.  You're three and a half months old!  You'll be graduating high school any day now!  (See what I mean about the unnecessary panic?)  Then the rational side of me took over and realized that you take about four naps a day.  You'll be taking naps for the next several years.  I really need to chill out and wait for the opportune time and a moment of inspiration to collide.  So, what I'm trying to say, Little Finn, is that if and when you wake up one day and you're surrounded by sunflowers and butterflies made out of towels, blankets and potholders...it's just another photo session.  And another opportunity to capture your earliest days.  And that I am in a race against the clock to do every single fun thing with you before you decide you want nothing to do with me. And that day is inevitable.  But also like twelve years away.  We have plenty of time, baby.

Naptime: Unstaged

A Week of Firsts

Well, well my little Rockstar!  You've had a big week!  Lots of firsts.  To begin with, you are laughing.  Not the snort/grunt sound that you've been working on, but a good belly laugh.  You tuck your little chin into your neck and hike your shoulders up to your ears and chuckle away until the hiccups take over.  And they always take over.  You and those hiccups!  I've never heard a baby hiccup so much.  I love your giggle so much that I end up laughing until I cry.  And there we sit: you with the hiccups and me with tears in my eyes.  We make quite a team.


Saturday night was a big deal for me.  You took your first trip to the beach.  It wasn't a beach day yet, but we took a short walk and watched the sunset.  The beach bum in me couldn't wait to take you to my beloved beach.  The airhead in me had you dressed in tights so you couldn't put your toes in the sand.  Doh!  To be fair it would've been slightly chilly without the tights.  But still...  You weren't too sure what to make of those mini Gulf waves.  You'll get used to them this summer for sure.  

This week was also the first time you used a sippy cup and drank water.  It was more of an attempt to soothe your little gums than to actually try to get you to use a cup.  I think we are still a bit early for that.  But I figure there's no point in introducing a bottle when you will be moving onto a cup soon anyway and the spout is soft.  You looked a little confused about the whole ordeal, but you got a few sips in and seemed to enjoy chewing on it.  We'll try it about once a day and eventually you'll be a pro!


Your last trick for the week is rolling over.  You've done it before a few times, but I think you were as surprised as me those times.  But now, when I lay you on your tummy, you flip yourself over onto your back like it's your job.  See?  Rockstar!  


You've been looking so big to me lately, but I glanced at you sleeping just now and you're such a peanut.  Your features are getting more distinct.  You're getting control of those chubby hands.  And when I lean in for a kiss, you open those slobbery lips like you've seen one-too-many romance movies.  I am crazy about you and you know it.  It's a wonder I ever get anything done because all I want to do is stare into those blue eyes.

While there's no doubt that all three of your sisters are smitten with you as well, I think we've finally seen a crack in Sydney's tough exterior.  Lately she's been making up the most ridiculous stories.  I have to wonder if it's an attempt at garnering some attention.  She has imagined everything from a guinea pig class pet to a playground punch in the face (complete with a sticker on her eye that I was supposed to believe was a bandage).  The stories are both ordinary and far-fetched at the same time.  Imagining them is fine.  Great, even.  But telling them as fact is the problem.  I thought we'd been doing a good job at making her still feel special and important, but apparently she thinks we'd love her more if she came home from school with something extraordinary to tell.  I've been pushing honesty and trust for obvious reasons, and I think I'm finally getting through.  Maybe she'll use some of these mad story-telling skills she has to tell you some legendary bedtime stories someday.  


We have another beautiful weekend coming up, with temps in the 7o's.  It's the blessing and curse of living in South Florida.  I can't teach you how to make snow angels or expect you to know it's fall by the smell in the air and color of the sky, but I can take you for a beach picnic in January.  Lucky you.  

Another Day, Another Photo Shoot

I swear you will grow up thinking you are famous and I'm the paparazzi.  You must know the lens of my camera as well as my face by now.  I look forward to all of the "photo ops" to come: sitting up, walking, playing, dancing...but that doesn't mean I want you to hurry.  I'm loving every minute of these days when you are a little lump of baby chub.  And you have plenty of chub!  The size of your chunky thighs is something to behold.  


I've been thinking that I should make note of some things I never want to forget.  It's sometimes hard to write to a 3 month old baby, but I think one day you'll want to know what the little things I noticed about you were.  Like the little pin-hole-sized dent in your right ear cartilage that almost looks like a piercing.  Or the small wrinkle in the skin on the opposite ear.  Or the freckle on the palm of your hand that is just too tiny to seem real.  I've tried to wash it off countless times.  I love the way you "yell" at me instead of crying.  And once, when you were especially mad at me, you went on a two-minute long rant of non-stop "venting" (changing the inflection of your voice without enunciating at all...I'm pretty sure you thought you sounded just like us because you looked very proud of yourself).  And then there's your "camera face."  You'll be smiling the most glorious smile.  Honestly, ear-to-ear stuff.  And then the camera comes out.  You instantly switch your expression to this inquisitive stare.  I can't get a good smile picture without being very deceptive.  Somehow we are going to make peace with this camera and learn to ignore it.  But that day was not yesterday.  I tried, to no avail, to get some decent pictures of you on Ashley's quilt after I washed it.  Beautiful quilt + beautiful baby should equal beautiful pictures, no?  Not really.  Beautiful, yes, because they were of you. But the natural, candid, spontaneous snapshots I envisioned were instead wide-eyed stares into the camera lens.  We'll just have to practice more.

I'm pretty sure this sums up how you feel about the camera most days.

Happy 3 Month Birthday!

Slow down, little one.  You are growing up way too quickly.  Friday you turned three months old.  You and I both know this isn't possible since I was just pregnant yesterday, right?  I would have, and should have, posted this on your actual 3 month birthday, but you've been so miserable with this cold that I've barely put you down for two weeks.  My only complaint is that I wish you could kick this cold once and for all.  Luckily, today seemed to be a turning point.  You are acting more like your smiley self, even starting to giggle before you become startled by the sound of your own laughter.


We spent today at the park.  It was chilly and the wind literally took your breath away.  You're just like your mommy: you love to be outside.  I hope your childhood memories are full of days like today.  Flying kites, kicking soccer balls, spinning hula hoops and treating the whole day like one long photo session.  

Please inherit your sisters' silliness, love of music, fondness for picnics and appreciation of sunshine.  I doubt you'll have much choice.  It's a little chilly now, but in no time at all you're going to be spending your days at the beach with your toes in the sand.  Get used to it now, kid.

Get Well, Get Well Soon, We Want You to Get Well

Yesterday I reached out and caught baby puke before it hit the bedspread.  Because that's what mommies do.  You should know that there is nobody else on earth I would do this for but my own baby.  By the end of the day I was covered in smudges of spit-up, drool and baby mucus.  You're sick and I'm so, so sorry.  


There is nothing sadder than a sick baby.  Everything I do to help you just makes you more upset.  I find myself hoping that you'll still love me when it's all over.  I also wonder if you'll remember what kisses are, since I've banned them starting with your first sniffle.  You're not even three months old yet...way too young to have a cold.  But you're a strong, healthy baby (just look at those rolls of baby chub if you need proof) and you should be feeling like yourself in no time.  


I feel like life has been a blur since you were born.  We went from the hospital room to Halloween costume planning.  Then we moved on to Thanksgiving plans.  (Remind me to never invite 20+ people over for a massive dinner when I  have a one-month-old baby again!)  And then there was the flurry of Christmas decorations, shopping, baking, wrapping and get-togethers.  Followed, of course, by actual Christmas, which you weren't impressed by in the least.  The holidays brought on winter colds that have been passed around the family like Christmas gifts, minus the big, shiny bows.  Now it seems it's your turn.  I just want a normal day.  A non-holiday, non-sick day.  I want a spotless house that smells like fresh air and sunshine.  I want to bake a homemade after school snack and make some fresh-squeezed lemonade.  But mostly, I want you to feel like yourself again.  Thank God you still flash that toothless smile so often that my heart is nothing but a melty pile of goo inside of my chest.  Love that little smile.


Dr. Irra says you are teething.  You've been the drooliest baby I've ever seen, so I believe him. There's rarely a time when there isn't a beard of bubbles running down your chin.  And when I offer you a knuckle to soothe you (since you absolutely refuse a pacifier), you chew, not suck.  I don't know when your teeth will arrive, but I'm going to photograph those gums all I can while I can see them.  Yesterday you almost got your hospital pacifier in your mouth on your own.  I gave it to you to chew on and you grabbed in in those chubby fingers, lifted your hand to your mouth...and sucked on the back of your hand like mad.  You've got some mad skills, little one.  We'll work on coordination later.


I've been spending your sick days planning your first birthday party on Pinterest.  I know it's early, but I can't resist the opportunity to plan a party.  I'm thinking vintage pink with doilies, lace and ribbons and a nursery rhyme or book theme.  We'll see what it actually ends up being.  I've been known to go a bit crazy over this sort of thing.  


Right now you are sleeping on the couch and look like an angel.  I've been trying to get you to take some photos all morning since you have on the cutest striped tights and your pink flower headband.  It apparently wasn't what you had in mind because you were unusually uncooperative.  Not to worry, I've made up for it by getting some beautiful sleepyhead shots.  If only every day was this slow-paced.  I'm enjoying these days with you more than you'll ever know.  Sleep well, little one.  I see some reading and snuggle time in our very near future.  Until next time...

Sweet Dreams are Made of This

My sweet baby girl.  I feel like you've been part of my life forever, so how is it that just a year ago I had no idea that you'd soon be on your way?  How could I have thought I was living a full life when there was so obviously a Finnlee-shaped hole in it?  How is it possible that I didn't know that my own little girl was missing from my life?  And now here you are.  So present that I can scarcely remember the days when you weren't.  I've memorized the shape of your profile, the smell of your hair, your crooked, toothless smile...I'd know you anywhere.  You are so completely a part of me.  


In some ways it feels like yesterday when I heard the news about our fourth baby, and in some ways it was a lifetime ago.  You were so unexpected, but don't ever, ever mistake that for unwanted.  You have consumed a part of my heart that I didn't know existed from the very moment that you were two pink lines.  I feel like you may feel short-changed from time to time because you are our fourth daughter.  I don't want you to see your oldest sister's baby book, or another sister's scrapbook or calendar and think that I didn't have the time to do something special for you.  Times have changed, my life has changed, but my love for my baby girls will always be the strongest force I'll ever contend with.  I may not have a perfect belly pic of every month of this pregnancy, or a perfectly accessorized scrapbook detailing your birth, but this blog, little Finnlee...this blog is just for you.  Someday we'll look at this together.  I'll laugh and reminisce.  You'll marvel that this little, helpless creature was you.  Someday.  But for now I'll soak up every second of your tininess and record it here.

I love everything about you, baby girl.  Every snort, every yell, everything.   And I have so much to tell you.  But for now, sweet dreams.