Mommy's helper

I woke up early yesterday. Early early. Like 4am early. Cali was crying. I was just about to drag my half asleep self from bed when I heard her calm down and start talking. She shares a room with Damien and he had woken up.

C: Damien I pee my bed *sniff*

Instead of saying "Go tell mommy and daddy" he says

D: Ok baby, come on

Then he takes her to the bathroom (in between their room and mine) and runs a bath. He helps her undress, helps her in, calms her down and rinses her off.

I lay in bed, torn. Should I get up and relieve him of this duty. I'm the parent after all. But on the other hand, he's handling it well. It's good for him to help take responsibility for his baby sister.

Eventually I got up because I hadn't heard anything but the water running for a few minutes, so I had awful images of him having gone back to bed or something and the water overflowing and.............her left alone.

But no, he sat quietly on the toilet, the water was only half full and he had a towel all ready for her.

D: Oh, hi mom, Cali wet the bed, so I was helping her clean up

Me: Ok, so you got this? Want me to get some clean jammies for her?

D: sure

I got them for him and went back to bed. I try not to look at in terms of my own laziness, but more as a favor for Damien's future wife. Right? Right.

Not much help

"Hey Cali, what do you want for you birthday?"

"PRRRRRRESENTS!!!!!!!!"

"What kind of presents?"

"CAKE!"

Yes, I do like pictures, thanks for asking

If I had started this blog way back forever and 3 years ago before my baby was born, I would have subjected you to the photos I had taken of her monthly. I didn't do this with my other kids, but thought it would be fun this time. Granted, Emily did have her fair share of studio shots, but that's because I worked in a portrait studio during her first year. But it wasn't done in the supremely organized manner that Cali's were.
Now, just because I didn't have the forsight to start this blog sooner, doesn't mean that you should have to miss out on these photos. I know you're dying to see them. Wait! Don't die yet. They're coming up. Just hold on.......


One month. She was born with all of that hair. It covered her entire head. The staff at the hospital said they'd never seen a "caucasian" baby with so much hair. She slept through her entire first photo session, which was fine with me. This is exactly what she looked like at one month. Sleeping. All the time. Except you know, at night.



Two months. That background looked much prettier in person. In the photos it reminds me of custard. Like baby in a pie. But look at the tiny little bow on her elbow, and she's smiling. It's not easy to catch a two month old smiling on camera.




Three months. I paid a LOT more for these pictures than for the other months, because they brought in "special" backgrounds and props. Insane amount of money really, and I never signed up for another "special sitting". But the remarkable thing about this picture is that my baby is 3 months old and standing! Yes, I'm holding her hands, but just wow. Cool huh?




Four months. I loved these shots. The red was just so BOLD. And so different from the muted pastel-ey colors we had previously done. The studio actually used this picture for their Valentines Day display. I think they liked the ginormous bow.




Five months. Her outfit just happened to match this background almost perfectly so we went with it. I love this shot. I learned a long time ago to love serious faces, because the EYES! My god, I can die on the spot.



Six months. This picture marks the end of the headband era. Her hair was just getting too long for them to work right. Not that it's not a little bit crazy here, but hey, you try styling a full head of hair on a six month old. They still lay down a good amount of time. Makes for some crazy bed head. Also, most of the photos around six months, appear with a pinkish ring around her mouth, because she was in full on drool mode. She stayed in that mode for a good while.



Seven months. I had to do something with that hair! This month marks the emergence of the pigtails. Not that you can actually see them on that black background. That would be the only time I would use black for her shots. Plus with the black pants....she looks like half of a baby with no hair.




8 months. One of my favorite sittings. You can really grasp the full effect of the pigtails here. And the dress. It was very spring-y and feminine. I couldn't pick just one.









9 months. She's looking more like a toddler and less like a baby. Please note the bruise on her forehead. She loved to stand up and pretend she could walk, which resulted in many carpet crashing face plants. It was around this time I started calling her "monkey".




10 months. And the hair comes down. Three pigtail months in a row, seemed like enough. This was my least favorite of her sittings. She sogged her shirt up good before we went, and something about the rustic crate....I just wasn't feeling it. But look at that smile.




11 months. This sitting made me forget all about the 10 month mess. She had a red nose from yet another face plant, but I adored it anyways. The chair, the outfit, the high pony, and the personality! I remember viewing these photos for the first time and thinking, oh my god, she looks like......ME!












By her one year photos, she was like "hey people I got this! I'm a model from waaaaayyyyyy back. You want variety? You want personality? No problem. Just don't forget to sign the paperwork with my agent."

Role reversal

She was 5
He was 2
He was a trying toddler
She had eternal patience
She pushed him
He laughed
Big sister
Caring for little brother







He is 7
She is 10
He is strong
She is carefree
He carries her
She laughs
He smiles
Little brother will someday be
Big brother

Will there be a test on this?

I'm an accounting manager. I'm pretty good with numbers. I have a lot of them floating around in my head. Bank account numbers, routing numbers, federal tax id numbers, logins and passwords, resale numbers and phone numbers.

I do have a pretty good memory for these things. I'm the token family member that everyone calls to clarify when so and so's birthday is.

But with all of that, it's nothing to compare with the numbers of parenting. It starts with the number of weeks pregnant you are....the day of your last period and your due date.

Then with the birth of your child comes a whole slew of them.

For example...........

Emily was born 8 days late, on 5/23/99 at 8:37 after 36 hours of labor, 9lbs even, 22 inches, and I even know her social security number. But lord help me, I don't know what room number we were in or her head circumfrence.

2 additional kids later, and I still manage to retain all of this info. Although I will admit that I only know half of Damien's social, and Caliana's not at all.

As they grow, the numbers continue to accumulate. How old they were when they rolled over, laughed, crawled, walked.......how long they breastfed. 13 months, 11 months and 14.5 months respectively, if you want to get technical.

And why do we need all of this info? Other moms want to know. What week of pregnancy did I start getting morning sickness? When did it stop? When did I start to show? How long did I push? And on and on.

Yesterday, I was at Emily's gymnastics practice and there were a couple of women sitting behind me chatting. They both had little girls approaching one year and they were comparing stats.

"How many teeth does she have?"

"Eight!"

I'm so glad no one asks me this any more. I have no idea. The teeth come in, the teeth fall out, more come in. I don't even know how many teeth "I" have. Why do we care? It's hard enough to keep all of my own stats straight, I don't need to know how many teeth a strangers baby has at any point in time. Or that her baby started walking at 9 3/4 months. NOT that I didn't do it too. I'm totally guilty. But, it's all kind of ridiculous. No wonder I can never tell you what room number my kid is in. I can barely remember what grade they're in.

Clarification if you please

I don't remember where I learned about sex. Some mixture of t.v., unlocked doors, Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey, and pages of a magazine my sister and I found in a bush while we were walking home from school one day.
Somehow it all came together for me though, in a clear, coherent picture. Oh, wait, can't forget about the romance novels. Those are a teenage girl's penthouse you know. They set you up for unrealistic expectations when it comes to sex and relationships. On the OTHER side of the spectrum from what the boys are reading, so there ya go.

But that's not really what I'm getting at. My point is, I kind of figured my kids would come about the knowledge in much the same way, except I kind of didn't want them to, I wanted to have a little influence too, you know, like maybe "I" want to tell them, except "I" don't want to be the one to tell them.

But the damage is done. My kids already know me, they know I'm honest with them. They know they can ask me anything.

I won't get into the specifics of who asked what, because my kids deserve some modicum of privacy, but I did have to toss around phrases like "man's penis gets hard", "baby hole", "condoms work kind of like an umbrella" and other such shocking things. I'm still recovering and they're probably having nightmares.

Sometimes I don't feel mature enough to be the parent.

Sometimes I can't find the humor

It's been a few days, I know. I've been....around. It's just been those kind of days. Nothing terribly tragic, just a lot of salt and sand in the water, lashing at me, wearing me down, chipping my paint, and fading my colors.

I'm off to church now to try and recover some of the optimism I've been missing, but in the meantime.......

pictures.