Our New Niece

Meet Lydia Rose Brown, the newest member of our extended family. According to The Daily Squink, she arrived at 3:18 p.m., weighs 7 lbs, 14.5 oz., and is 21 inches long. Oh yeah, and did I mention she's GORGEOUS? Well, duh, that one was a given, I suppose.

I'm so sad we aren't there to shower her with kisses and cuddles, but I guess that's for the best, considering Mommy, Daddy, Rowan, Grandfather, and Marmie are all there hogging her, anyway. We will have our time with her soon enough, oh yes. I will make sure of it.

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Baby Vampire

I've been trying for some time now to capture Asher's sharp fangs that poked through about a month ago, but have been unsuccessful at being in just the exact position at just the exact time during which Asher is flashing a big cheesy fanged grin - until tonight! It turns out if you take enough pictures from enough angles while the Hogan's Heroes theme song is playing, it is very possible to catch one of those toofy smiles. (Click on the picture to enlarge it and get the full effect.)

His top two front teeth have come in the past week, too, so I need to try to get more of these shots before they grow out and he looks more like a human boy, instead of a blood-thirsty undead baby Dracula. I think he makes a cute little vampire.

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Are They Nauseating, or What?!

They really make me want to puke, they really do. Look at how cute and how happy they are! It's as if they're going to meet their daughter tomorrow, or something.

So really, I'm just bitter that I won't be there for the big event. We've got this stupid move in process - finding a house, finishing packing, cleaning, hiring movers, moving, unpacking - and doing all of this with a whiny, clinging child attached to both of our legs. We will be turning over our keys a week from Monday, so we don't have much time to get all of this accomplished, either. What a giant pain in the ass, and what horrible timing. I'd like to go see my baby niece, thank you very much! Hopefully we'll get to make a trip over to see the new addition, along with the old additions, in a couple of weeks, once we're semi-situated in our new home.

Until then, I obviously won't have any of my own pictures or updates to post about Tiberia - including the assignment of a real name to her. Tiffani? Krystal? Angel? Bambi? Skylar? Shameka? There are so many good names out there. I can't wait to hear what they choose. (My bets are on Buffy Rochelle.) Any updates I post will have to be stolen from their site, so you might as well just check it out there first yourself.

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Hanging in There

I'm hoping that the stress will be decreasing - or, at least, plateauing - here over the next month or two. We no longer have to worry about whether or not we're going to lose our house - because we just did! Yep, the sale was today, and after a quick call to the sheriff's office, Stephen was able to find out that our bank bought our house. Which, I suppose, is a good thing, simply considering the fact that we're used to dealing with those people. And, I hear they got an awesome deal - how about they got it for $60,000 less than the amount they sold it to us four years ago! Bastards! Stephen made a phone call to our mortgage company yesterday and was told that, if they do indeed purchase the house, we should have at least 45-60 more days here. This is great compared to the panic we had for two days when one of the two attorneys we've been in touch with informed us we might have to vacate almost immediately once sold. Keep in mind that the other attorney said we could have 4-6 months. That's a pretty big difference in advice, don't you think? I guess that's the thing that's been making me the most panicked - the fact that no one seems to know what in the hell is going on. One minute we have months, the next minute we have days.

I know some people think that I shouldn't talk about this stuff - maybe because they think it's too personal, or that, perhaps, we should be embarrassed about it. And, to be honest, I am a little embarrassed about it. It's a slap in the face of our pride, and it's given us a good taste of failure. It hurts that we've tried to go the "normal," responsible route in our lives - you know, dating for years, completing school, getting married, getting a house after a few years, starting a family a few years after that - only to have it not turn out quite as perfect as we'd hoped. But, you know, things happen. You quit one okay job to take another one that should be more rewarding, only to be downsized a few months later. In the meantime, you have a baby, right at the same time the mortgage company jacks your payments up over 50%. You finally feel like you're climbing out of the financial wreckage when you get a promising job a few months later, only to have some horrible allegations made against you and a company that won't stand behind their new employee. The economy is bad, and you can't find a decent job. You can't make your house payments. There's just not a whole lot you can do about it - life just sucks that way sometimes. I'm slowly learning that no matter how much you try to prepare, no matter how much you try to do things the "right" way, life is bound to throw you curve balls. It's okay, and I get it. I'll take these curve balls in a heartbeat over some of the other bad things that could have been - and one day will be - thrown our way. And I guess that's why I'm trying not to be ashamed over what's going on with us and why I'm talking about it on here, WHERE EVERYONE CAN SEE. It's a part of our lives right now, it's what we're thinking about, it's what we're going through. Besides that, it'll be nice to re-read this one day in the future, after we've won the lottery and are soaking up the sun on some tropical island, and laugh about how stressed out I was over a stupid house.

Now that one hurdle has been jumped, we're on to the next: finding a place to live. Hopefully we'll have a place lined up within the week. We're quickly running out of empty space in the garage and house for packed boxes. Moving is FUN! Updates will surely follow soon...

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Interesting Lunch Today

Because I still felt crappy this morning, I went ahead and called in sick to work, just to play it safe.  Being at work is misery enough in itself; I didn't feel like enduring it while feeling sick to my stomach.  Not to mention, when you do go to work sick, everyone gives you a hard time about bringing your germs in.  Of course, when you call in sick, everyone gets pissed off that you called in sick.  You're damned if you do and damned if you don't.

By lunchtime, I was feeling much better and stir crazy after having been cooped up in the house since Friday night.  We decided to go out to lunch at Burger King - which, I realize, sounds like a completely absurd choice considering how my digestive system has been since Saturday, but the pros of them having macaroni and cheese for Asher and Stephen having a free whopper coupon for himself seemed to outweigh the con of possibly causing an intestinal blowout for me.  (Okay, it still doesn't make any sense, but my stomach handled it fine, so leave me alone.)

Stephen and I had finished our lunches and I was feeding Asher when a very young woman approached us to inquire about Asher with her 14 month-old daughter.  We chatted while her food was being prepared and Stephen got her a highchair, since she and her daughter were by themselves and she had her hands full.  They sat two booths behind us, but the mom was obviously craving some mom-to-mom conversation, as she kept trying to talk to me from her booth.  At one point, she mentioned that she's only nineteen and, since none of her friends have kids, she doesn't get to get out much anymore.  I felt so bad for her; she was very sweet and eager to talk.  After about fifteen minutes, we decided we should get together for a playdate, since Asher and the little girl seemed to enjoy flirting with each other and neither of the kids are in daycare and get regular interaction with other babies their age.  I gave her my e-mail address, and am now waiting for her to write to me.

Here's the silly thing:  I thought she was a very nice girl and I think it would be great for us to get together for a playdate, but I feel so weird about meeting a potential friend at random at a Burger King.  Seriously, I may as well have just picked up a guy at a sleazy bar!  I am so weird.  Could my attitude have anything at all to do with why I don't have very many friends?!  Now watch, she won't e-mail me, and I'll feel all rejected and used.

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Long Live Stephen!

Stephen seems to be back to his normal self again after a nasty bout with a gastrointestinal virus. Let me take this moment to say a gigantic AMEN.

It's never fun when your spouse is sick. He's whiny, you feel a certain obligation to be nice and maybe even cater to his demands a bit more than you usually would, he dirties up the bed from lying in it all blessed day with his yucky sick germs, you have no one to make you popcorn and hot chocolate in the evening, and it's pretty much a given that you'll be spending the evening at home. But when you have a baby, it's so much worse. You work a full day at a place that makes you crazy, come home exhausted to find a baby who is crabby because he's out of his routine and can sense things aren't right and is ready for a diaper change and dinner, but you just want to put your sweats on and make a TV dinner for yourself because you're starved but too tired to make a real dinner, but first it's bath time, pajama time, book reading time, bottle time, toothbrush time, sleepy time, and then there are dishes to be put away and washed, cats to be fed, a litter box to be scooped, a path of destruction created by Baby to be picked up, your own getting ready for bed routine...and did you ever find time or even remember to change out of your work clothes and grab yourself some dinner? Single parents out there: YOU ARE MY HEROES!

Ok, so it was only for a couple of days, and Stephen wasn't a demanding patient at all. In fact, I was lucky if I heard ten words from him - after that initial round of sickness, he slept for most of the duration of the rest of it. And, thankfully, Stephen has an awesome dad who was willing to drive almost three hours in horrendous driving conditions yesterday so he could watch Asher while Stephen rested and I worked.

My point is, though, that I tend to take for granted how great my husband is. I'm always bitching about how the laundry isn't done, or how he hasn't packed a single box for the move, or how the bed isn't made, and I often overlook all the things he does for us around here: making dinner, doing the dishes, straightening up the kitchen, giving Asher his bath, scooping the litter box, feeding the cats, just being a second set of hands and eyes for keeping tabs on The Boy...It's not until times when Stephen is sick, or has to work late hours in the evening, that I'm reminded of how much it SUCKS not having him and his assistance around. Not to mention, how lonely it is without his company. I was so excited last night when he was feeling well enough to lie in bed and watch TV with me for a little while.

So he's back to normal, and now I feel so much more back to normal. It's sort of been an eye-opening experience over the past couple of days. I've been beyond stressed out because of the house stuff and work stuff. His being so sick has put things into perspective for me and now that he's better, I feel so much more calm and collected than I did before he was sick. I'm sure he wouldn't agree that his spending an afternoon at the Emergency Room was worth me learning a life lesson - and I'm not saying it was, especially considering the fact that I could very well be next in line to have this nasty flu - but I guess something good came out of it. I just pray that Stephen doesn't try to teach me anymore life lessons for a good long while. I'm done with learning.

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Close Enough? Can I Say He's Walking?

Today was not a good day. Stephen was very, very ill, starting at about 3:30 this morning, and I've basically been up since then with him, bringing him drinks, towels, tissues, making three Kroger runs, dragging him to the doctor and to the hospital. Poor Stephen has been poked, prodded, drained of blood, and basically been turned inside out from barfing. (Yum, I know.) We're both exhausted. If we're lucky, he'll get better just in time for me to get sick and we can swap roles. Good times.

Asher, on the other hand, is luckily too little to really understand or be bothered by any of today's events. Granted, he got cranky because he went a little longer than normal without a nap or a real meal, and was at times fidgety because, well, that's just how one year-olds are. But, leave it to a baby to see the silver lining in the clouds. He got to play with different (and nasty, dirty, crusty, probably disease-infested) toys at the doctor's office. He got to see new people. He got to meet new ladies with whom to flirt. Plus, he got to spend a few hours with Marmie and Grandfather once they rescued him away from Frazzled Mommy and Sickly Daddy at the E.R.

Anyway, it was at the doctor's office when he was playing with the scary toys and flirting with the Carmel Soccer Moms that I noticed something peculiar about Asher: he was spending less time on his hands and knees than usual. He was...dare I say, walking! Ok, so it was still only anywhere from 2-10 steps at a time, but it's becoming more frequent. I noticed he's trying to walk. He'll start to get down into his crawling stance, but then he'll hesitate and stand back up and take a step. He's making a conscious effort! He's walking!

It sucked that Stephen was sick today. I can't say I was unhappy about staying home from work today, but it sucked that I had to spend my day off in the hospital. But, the fact that I got to spend some extra time and attention on Asher and really see him putting his new skills into action was really nice.

Man, it seems like just last week that I was all excited because he finally rolled over! Asher, you've come a long way, baby.

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Asher's First Puke Fest

The clingy-ness, it turns out, was probably due to Asher being a sick little bug. He woke up at midnight and we couldn't get him to stay asleep. Finally, we took him in our bed. A little after four this morning, he woke us up by vomiting. We changed the sheets, changed him, changed my clothes, laid him back down, turned the lights off, and he proceeded to vomit again. Another change of sheets, an added towel on the bed (since the mattress cover was off due to the first yak mishap), another change of pajamas for both me and him, and then he threw up again. A call to the dial-a-nurse through our insurance program, another bout of spewing, a breaking of his fever, and he was zonked. Poor baby. He's thrown up a few times since then, but has been puke-free for the past couple of hours. I'm hoping the worst is over and that he'll be able to keep the Pedialyte down and have a little something bland to munch on in a few hours.

This is our first time having to deal with our child being sick with something other than a little cold, and it's scary. I feel awful; I don't know what's hurting him, what would make him feel better, what's best for him. All I know is that he's sick and I want to fix it but I can't! Ugh, I'm dreading the future illnesses, broken bones, scrapes, cuts, bee stings...

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Mr. Clingy

The sale of our house is a week from this Thursday. We aren't for certain the exact date we will be moving, but it's definitely going to be soon. Though I've been packing a box here and a box there for a few months now, there's still at least a bazillion boxes that need to be packed. To be on the safe side, I'm just assuming we'll need to be out by the date of the sale, which means I've been in super-hyper-packing mode this past week. At least the holidays are finally over so I can focus and have fewer things to worry about. And, at least it's the weekend, right? I can get some packing done; getting most of that out of the way would really ease some of my stress. Ah, but Asher, sweet little Asher...he always has different plans in mind. Play with toys? Oh no. He wants to be right under foot, grabbing onto my legs, pleading to be picked up. Or, he wants to play with the electrical cord, crawl up the stairs, throw his toys in the box I'm trying to pack, play in the Christmas tree - you know, anything that causes disruption. Nap? Oh no. It would take a good hour to get him settled down and sleeping, only for him to wake up 30 minutes later, still obviously exhausted and wanting to sleep, but for whatever reason WOULD NOT SLEEP IN HIS CRIB. The only thing that would calm him down was some Tylenol and Mommy spooning him on her bed. Which, I'll admit, I'm not opposed to a nice nap and some snuggle time with my baby, but this is not a good day for taking it easy. I don't know if he's teething, or if he's just not feeling well, or if he's just going through some separation anxiety that his doctor forewarned us he'd probably be going through right now. Whatever it is, he is quite the clingy little bug and he's making it very difficult to get things done. Thankfully, NeeNee and PaPa are coming down tomorrow to baby wrangle so we can focus on stuffing our lives in boxes.

Watch, once we're moved and settled in our new place, he won't want to have anything to do with us.

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Birthday Boy

Since Asher's birthday fell on a Friday, we decided to hold his birthday bash on Saturday, hoping this would be more convenient for people. Some very important people weren't able to make it (Aunt LaLa was too pregnant, Aunt Jamie was too late in booking her train tickets, Uncle Abbo was busy or something, Grammy was in the hospital), which we were very sad about, but in the end I think it was best that there weren't a ton of people there. It ended up being just four grandparents and a handful of friends, including Dawn and her family, Laurie and her family, Tati, Jennifer and her son, and beloved Aunt GieGie. Had many more people been present, I think his head would have exploded from all the excitement.

Unfortunately, Asher has been sick with a cold, and we're pretty certain he's teething, so he was a little out of sorts part of the time. He wouldn't eat, and wouldn't nap UNTIL everyone had arrived, which meant delayed gift opening and cake eating. He was beyond thrilled to see everyone, though, and had the most wonderful time flirting with just about every single person there. Of course, his fascination lied primarily in harassing little Emerson, who clearly did not appreciate his handsy advances and kept telling him "NO!" He was so intrigued with her that, at one point, he took at least ten steps in order to chase after her. We should have known we just needed a cute girl to persuade him to walk.

The best part of the event, of course, was the cake eating. Asher had no clue what to do with the giant white lump I placed in front of him at his highchair. He absolutely refused to try it, so I spent a good five minutes pleading with him to lick the icing off my finger. He responded by sticking his icing-coated fingers in my mouth. Eventually, I was able to get a little bit in his mouth, and he immediately stopped struggling as the pleasure that only cake can bring set in.

All in all, I think he had a great first birthday. Thanks to everyone for helping us celebrate!

Here are photos from the day!

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ONE YEAR OLD

It happened. On January 2, 2009, at 7:42 p.m., Asher turned one year old. There were no fireworks, he did not self-combust, time did not stand still - I didn't even have the tiniest of panic attacks. It was so weird how it was just like any other minute of any other day. I'm not sure why I'd built his turning one into such a huge deal in my mind, bigger than the whole Y2K panic almost ten years ago; maybe it's because it means he's crossing over from babyhood to toddlerhood. I'm really excited about that, but on the other hand, I'm not sure I'm ready to say goodbye to the baby version of Asher, yet. Thank God he's still pooping his pants.

Like last month, this month has been a time of honing his skills. He still isn't walking full-time, yet, though he is practicing. He'll take anywhere from two to six steps before either falling down or giving up and crawling. I would think that within the next couple of weeks he'll be off and walking, but he could easily prove me wrong. He seems pretty content getting around by holding onto things or crawling. I've yet to hear any "real" words come out of his mouth, but he still has plenty to say. I've noticed his jibber-jabbering is starting to include more intonation and structure, and is usually accompanied with intense facial expressions. All I can say is, I think sometimes it's probably a good thing that I can't understand what he's trying to say. Why? Because not only is communication increasing, but so are the TANTRUMS. It is not pretty, and I know it's just going to get worse. I'm praying he doesn't have my temper, but if Mom is right in her philosophy of karma and "what goes around, comes around," I'm in a world of hurt.

Now that he's a year old, we're trying to bump up his lifestyle to be a little less babyish. Yesterday, we turned around the car seat. He seems very happy about this, and I can't say I blame him. It had to be awfully boring staring at the seat of the car all this time, and he had grown to the point where his feet were touching the seat, so I think he was beginning to get cramped in that position. Now that he's facing the front, we can also move the car seat to the middle of the backseat, so I think he'll be safer should we ever be T-boned by another car. I know it's going to sound lame, but I've actually sat in the backseat with him ever since he was born. I got in the habit of doing this when he was a newborn so that if he got fussy I could console him, and I guess I just never grew out of it. With him facing front, I am now moving myself back up to the passenger seat of the car - hallelujah! I figure if he can face the front, he can see us and outside the car, and that should keep him entertained. If not, well, buddy, join the club. Riding in the car can just be boring, you'll have to get used to it.

One year also marks the point in which we can switch him off formula and on to whole milk. I'm really not concerned with this too much; getting him to sit still and drink a bottle has been an on-again, off-again battle for months now. I don't think he'll miss it much, but I don't feel comfortable just yanking him off of it cold turkey. This is probably more for my comfort level than his; after all, eliminating bottle time is pretty disruptive to the schedule we've been following for months and months. Mommy and Daddy need time to establish and grow comfortable with a new routine. So, he was getting four bottles a day; now he's down to three. Over the next month or two, we'll just keep cutting down bottles until there are none left. Asher will probably be thrilled.

His one-year appointment with Dr. Timmons is tomorrow afternoon. I'm looking forward to seeing what his weight and height are up to, and finding out how he's developing in comparison to her standards. Unfortunately, he is due for some blasted vaccinations. He hasn't received any since his six-month appointment, so I'm pretty scared to witness his reaction to the shots now that he's older. I'm sure he'll be the best little trooper; it's just Mommy who's the big baby about such things.

Happy birthday, my little Asher Bug. This year has been crazy and turned upside-down in so many different ways, but I can honestly say that, because of you, it's been the best year of my life. You have made me a better person and have shown me what's truly important in life. You have my heart wrapped around that little finger of yours, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I am so looking forward to your second year and watching you blossom even more into a handsome little boy.

(December photos)

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