well thank god that's over

I love Christmas. Absolutely adore it. Why, then, am I so relieved that it's over? Usually the day after Christmas is sad to me, so I'm kind of surprised to realize that I'm so happy to be on the other side of it. I think having a baby might have something to do with it. It makes you very distracted and kind of on edge the whole time, especially when away from home. We have many childcare "aides" at home - the swing, the bouncy chair, the playmat. One of them always pleases Sasha. When out, all we have are laps and a car seat. Thankfully, Sasha has been a gem at every single outing. I, however, was not a gem last night. We had been at my aunt's house for three hours when my mom told me it would be another hour before dinner was ready. I had completely had it. I had a little conniption fit. I don't know why my mood was so foul, since it was my favorite holiday and we were in a room full of people that couldn't get enough of our darling baby. But I was pissed. And tired. And hungry. By the time we left we'd been there for five hours, a good two hours longer than normal. My aunt, who hosts this gathering, is getting older and slower and simply doesn't feel like rushing, I guess. As she helped me pack up leftovers after dinner, my mom swore we'd never do this again.

This week Sasha discovered that she can chew on her hands. She is a full-on slobber machine now. She also has her first cold, and it breaks my heart to hear her coughing on snot, or extra spit, or whatever it is. She absolutely hates the snot sucker thing. I wish it worked a little better. Between her squirming and my fear of poking her brain with it, I'm not getting very much snot out.

Sasha smiled at Micah last night. I swear he became instantly more smitten with her. It truly feels like a gift. Each day she gets a little quicker with her smiles, pays a little more attention to our faces, and is more easily soothed by a tight embrace. She's more content to sit on our laps. She's not really the type of baby that likes to be held really tight for comfort. She likes to be moving most of the time. My mantra for anyone holding her has been "if she gets fussy, try bouncing her on your knee." Then yesterday I realized I she had been sitting on my very still knee for twenty minutes without fussing. Clearly, she and her preferences are changing every day.

Oh, and speaking of smitten, she is completely in love with the television and all its moving magic. This is a fantastic development. Why, then, do I feel so guilty whenever I use it to my advantage? This parenting thing! Egads.

the goose is getting fat

Because there's a whole lot of this going on right now:SOOO good, and I absolutely do say so myself. The best sugar cookies ever. Do the words homemade buttercream icing mean anything to you? Holla.

The latest hell/excitement were the four vaccinations that happened this week, resulting in Punkin, a.k.a. the Cherub, a.k.a. Sashi Kashi Go Lean, sleeping in horribly tiny one-hour spurts for almost 48 hours. Wow. Good thing she's cute. I'm just now coming back from my wit's end. She seemed to sense this and rewarded me with a good fifteen minutes googly-eyed staring session. She smiles and I laugh, which makes her smile again. She makes this noise that sounds a lot like the beginnings of "hi" if you ask me. Very hard on the H sound, like it's coming from back near her throat as it should. I know it's because that's what I say to her most. Hi! Hi Sasha! Hi! Hellooooo! What are you dooooing? HI!

In other news, this is the back of her head:

I'm so, so curious to know what her hair will look like eventually. At home, in the dimmer lights, it looks quite dark. Outside or under flourescents the top is definitely lighter and a bit red. She has some interesting growth patterns happening. That ducktail cuteness was there when she was born, but the rest is pretty new. She has a lovely longer bit on the very back and top of her head that, when teased a little bit, stands up like a mini feather headdress. She is, like, 1/36 Blackfoot Indian. See that little bald spot? Happens to most babies, since they spend so much time with their heads supported by something. It's very soft. I like to touch it. I don't think there is ever a time when "I like to touch it" doesn't sound dirty and creepy. Really. Can you think of a time? Say it out loud. Ok stop, you sound skeezy.

I do like to touch it, though. But not too much, I'm paranoid about retarding new hair growth or something. Because you see, being a parent opens you up to a whole new set of paranoia material.

Superlatives

Most Sleep Deprived. I feel better with each passing week though, so I guess my body is getting used to it. I will say one of the things I hate most about this new job of mine is getting woken up after I've only slept about an hour and I'm already in the really good sleep zone. When that happens enough times I start to really resent, well, everything. Thankfully this feeling doesn't last longer than the next nap.

Most Loved Thing I Have Ever Loved. Yet for weeks, she was a stranger to me. They talk about the instant bond you'll have with your baby, and they are mostly right. You love her unconditionally and without limit from the very second she arrives, but she is still a stranger. She was born with her own personality and I have to get to know her. It's an ongoing thing. It helps that she is interacting more, and also more content to sit on my bouncing knee for long periods. I dare say she's getting easier, though to say she was ever difficult isn't accurate.

The Hardest Thing I Have Ever Done. You really can't prepare yourself. You think you know. I actually had a rather pessimistic (nay, realistic) view of how it would be, yet the occasionally absolute shittyness of it hits hard. I know I'm doing a good job, but at times it is under duress. The bad weather means that Micah's been home almost every day, which has been awesome. I don't know what we would do without him. We'd make it because we had to, but I really don't know how single mothers do it. Bless them one and all.

Here's another picture to get us back on the happy track, where our baby is amazing and Christmas is coming and friends are in town and life is actually quite beautiful when you zoom in on it.

(Dang, Angelina, those lips are going to cause immature boys to make terrible comments one day. I'll string up their nuts with floss outside our door, I sweartogod.)

8 weeks: let the kicking commence

For some reason, I have been obsessed with cooking. It could be my new creative outlet, it could be boredom, it could be the fact that I am always thinking about food. When I was pregnant I barely ate, except maybe during the last few weeks. Now that I'm breastfeeding and not put-off by a lot of food, I find myself watching the Food Network for hours upon end and getting recipes online. In the past several weeks I have made all the of the following from scratch:

lasagna
meatloaf
chicken pot pie
pumpkin roll
devil's food cookies
peanut butter cookies with chocolate chips
beef stew
parmesan encrusted chicken

Don't you wish your kitchen was hot like mine? I can't stop. I know you burn a lot more calories when you're breastfeeding, but at the rate I'm going I'm pretty sure I'm taking in more than I'm burning. Not a good situation. Then again, I'm developing better cooking skills and keeping myself busy. And you can't really shake a finger at all the home cooking. Think of all the preservatives and other scary shit we're avoiding!

Also, it has become quite pleasant to always have cookies around. Once you get used to it, it totally sucks when the cookies run out.

Sasha is doing great. She's spending more time on her playmat thingy. It has a bunch of dangling animals and it's quite colorful. She kicks her little legs like crazy when she's on it, tossing the animals around and squealing a bunch. She's building the muscles she'll need for rolling over and crawling. She can put herself on her side for a few moments, but thankfully she hasn't figured out how to heave her buddha-bellied self over her arm. I'm loving that I can still put her anywhere and she stays there. Not for long.

When she's alert and happy she likes to make eye contact and sometimes she smiles if you get her going. She still adores her bouncy chair. I swear the most peaceful look washes over her when she realizes she's back in it. I try not to feel offended when she's sick of my lap, which happens pretty quickly. Sniff. In her defense, lately she's been happier to just chill in my lap, but for the most part the princess loves her throne, and that's that.

She's outgrowing clothes! I find this amazing. It also stresses me out a bit because I want to make sure everything gets worn before it's too small. See, much like adult clothing, the sizes vary by brand. My friend Steph gave me a pair of jeans that were labeled 6 Months, but her five month old daughter never fit into them. I kept them for several weeks without putting them on Sasha because they looked so big. Imagine my surprise when I decided to put them on her and practically had to use pliers to get the zipper up. Yet they were too long! WTF? I was so excited about her wearing those jeans, her very first pair, so the fact that she can't wear them breaks my heart a little. So I quickly took a picture and then freed my baby from those supermodel jeans. Six months. Right. Givin' my baby a muffin top and shit.



















And now, a gratuitous picture of yummy baby feet, picked clean of toe jam (oh yes, the babies get it, and hand jam, too!).















Okay just one more. Because OMG precious.
















There is nothing cuter than a naked baby. Nothing. Except maybe when she's naked sitting on daddy's arm with her butt crack on display, headed to the bath.

Head over heels.

what a babe

Is it terribly narcissistic to think we just might have made the most beautiful baby ever?

And the baby who makes the funniest faces ever?




















She can even conduct symphonies, you guys. With ONE HAND! IN HER SLEEP!! So clearly a genius.






















But not at all amused by mommy's obsession with her new camera.

remember it

Sasha smiled! AT ME! ON PURPOSE!

It was yesterday. She was laying on the couch with nothing to gaze at, and I popped my head in the picture and started all kinds of high-pitched hi baby! hi Sasha!s and after focusing on my face for a few minutes, her lips parted and her cheeks pulled back and that's when it happened. The earth stood still.

She still hasn't awarded her daddy the same kind of reaction, but she definitely likes to stare at him. We both do.

That Christmas Feeling is setting in. I love Christmas. Sasha won't have a clue this year, but I am so excited about future years. Christmas is all about children. As a child, I found it more magical than anything.

My lack of a good camera is starting to upset me. I can't believe I don't have anything reliable with which to capture my baby and her expanding set of skills. I told Micah I have to have a camera, even if it's cheap. I can't take it anymore. It's a crying shame, is what it is. Most new moms have already taken a thousand pictures, and all I have are a few grainy shots from a disposable camera and some my mom gave me out of pity. Micah doesn't see the urgency until I remind him that his coveted family photos wouldn't exist if someone hadn't had a decent camera. So he agreed and then went out and bought about $75 worth of concert DVDs and new CDs. Whatever. Fair enough!

Anyway! That just means there will soon be more baby shots on here. OMG I just heard the baby poo from across the room. This is her first poo in a week (in the range of normal for breastfeeders) and I expect it will be spectacular.