Deuces

Right Around 6... Updates , a photo by cambrialana on Flickr. As of our 6 month appointment, Monday, November 28th, Miss Sayler weighs 15 pounds, 7 ounces, 25.5 inches. She is into EVERYTHING and walks sideways along the land (no, that's not a Native American saying) she literally shuffles sideways whilst holding on to the furniture. She still loves cat ear delicacies, frowning at strangers and hiding bits of food in her hair. She has a very pretty gummy smile and frizzy locks that are hard to tame. Waiting for those first teeth to appear and for her to decide waking up at 1 a.m. each night isn't that interesting. Stay tuned. My daughter. Slow down. Hurry up. We can't decide.  You love to pull yourself up onto everything and anything.... us... the bed rails... the bars on your crib, the couch, laundry basket, carseat, ottoman...  You chase the cats.  We've never seen you crawl faster than when in pursuit of an animal... You still love to nibble on the

My grandmother wore jelly shoes. Do you remember them? They were sold in small markets and pharmacies of yore. Places like Denco, Gemco and... whatever else existed before Rite Aid and Walgreens and ended in "Co". They were sold in different colors and often displayed on turning racks by the cash registers. To Google the images for jelly shoes was enough to make my heart stop. When their image appeared, I saw my grandmother. I saw her feet, squeezed in to the plastic shoes that were made to fit long, lithe, Cinderella feet.  I don't remember if I ever owned my own pair, but I am certain I must have wanted my own, just like grandmas, simply because the memory of them is so vivid I cannot imagine why I would remember them so well unless they were on my wish list. Perhaps right below pink and white L.A. gear. (There was little I wanted "above" L.A. Gear, so this is why they would have been somewhere below...) I remember many small details a

Half-Year , a photo by cambrialana on Flickr. Today we celebrate half-year. 6 months ago today I was waiting on my little girl to arrive. I was in an awkward hospital gown, in a bright hospital room with my wonderful husband. Over the last 6 months I have been more tired than in all my life. I have been challenged in new and delightful ways. I have been amazed. I have cried with frustration. I have cried at first smiles and laughs. My heart has melted many times over. My bonds with many have been strengthened because of her, while I have been able to see, clearly, those ties that weren't quite as strong to with-stand the changes in my life. My daughter has taken all of me. She has replaced it with everything. And more. More than I ever imagined I deserved. More than I ever thought I could handle. More than the words "Thank You" can express to our Creator. I am in awe of this little person. This daughter we wanted so desperately. We love you

Dear Carter, (Can I call you Carter?  Or is it Mr/Mrs. Carter?) Well, Dear Carter, Thank you for the weekly coupons in my email inbox.  You really know how to lure me back in to your store for some uber cute baby threads.  And of course, I was blessed with a baby girl, no less, so of course I am overcome with far too many options and accessories. So, CarCar, I am kind of having an issue that I hope you could address. My issue is that on each and every visit I am finding myself drawn to clothing items that have a guitar and cliche slogan like "I Rock" or "Mommy Rocks/ Daddy Rocks" And then I realize I am standing in the boy's section of the store and the clothing is in blue... or brown... or some other color that, quite frankly, isn't in my daughter's color wheel. And yes... I saw the girl's pajamas with the guitar that reads "Girls Rock".  But they aren't in an infant size... And I did see the cute bodysuit with jeggings in a

My daughter, hard at work... , a photo by cambrialana on Flickr.

I AM , a photo by cambrialana on Flickr. I AM a mother I AM a daughter I AM a friend I AM a neighbor, I AM a baby-food baker, and breast-milk maker. I AM a cousin, and an aunt, a niece, a sister and a wife. I AM a rescuer I AM a cleaner, I AM a microwaver and a dreamer. I AM a colleague, I AM a dieter, I AM a chocolate-lover and a writer. I AM a reader I AM a cryer, I AM the designated driver. I AM forgetful I AM forgetful Did I already mention... I AM forgetful? I AM sleepy, I AM working, I AM thinking, I AM scheming, I AM trying to be better at everything, but sometimes find I AM failing. I AM working on it, I promise. Sent From Blackberry Wireless

iRun to the store, iRun to turn off the oven, iRun to the market, iRun to answer the phone, iRun to my weepy baby, iRun to the door, iRun to take out out the trash before the trash man arrives, iRun into people without make-up on and like, want to disappear, iRun to grab the cat before he swats at my wee babe's face, iRun to take Penny outside before she wee-wees on the carpet, iRun up the stairs to grab something, iRun down the stairs to grab something, iRun around in circles to make the lil' one giggle, iRun to the post office, iRun to steal a kiss from my husband, iRun, iRun, iRun... I need a foot rub.

The dance floor was empty.  Where I come from, that's like... a sin. The DJ started a new song, Lionel Richie's "All Night Long". The song was perfect for a dance with my happy daughter. We waded through the aisles of seats, and then, we swayed, in unison. Her large smile beamed with every rythmic beat.  Then a problem happened. My brother came to join us.... Last weekend we sent to celebrate my cousin, Laura's, wedding.  We had such an amazing time, and my daughter rallied all hours. She even loved dancing with everyone. And when Lionel Richie came on it was literally such a safe song.  It wasn't a song about, like, shaking the damn thang, or hood rat, hood rat hootchie mamas and it wasn't one of my signature dance songs that require my arms to be free with a 4 foot perimeter to get cray-cray (think Christina Aguilera music before she became that weird orange color and she still combed her hair). You know.... it was a good babymam

I sat quietly on the long drive home... I was thinking about my colleagues who I had just spent time with.... I was thinking about the stories we were telling.... My mind wandered and in a quiet moment, with my baby sleeping soundly in the backseat I thought about my colleague's husband, Jim. No.  His name isn't Jim.... What's his name? Joe? Ned? I passed 4 exits pondering a name I once knew so readily.  I thought on it intently for fear that his name would escape me forever... and when I went to address my Christmas cards I would struggle with a way to get his name.... A one-syllable name, I was sure of that... And then, there it was.... "Rick" I smiled, sleepily, happy I had conjured up his name and all was right and well with my Christmas card list again. I am forgetful lately. Very forgetful. And as I drove on through the dark night, eagerly counting the exits until I reached home, I knew something was going on. One of two thing

..... Anxious to see this film??  I might be partial to the storyline...

I call you pumpkin, I call you sweetpea, I call you mine, I say words sweetly. I call you angel, I call you Saylee, I whisper softly, "You're my baby"

The Thing about Facebook is many things. There are a ton of rules. There is all kinds of Facetiquette. But, Like, you have to figure it out as you go.  Here is what I have learned and what I still have some serious questions about.  In fact, if you have an answer, please, please share. 1.  No one wants to hear all your drama on Facebook.  It makes me like, really uncomfortable.  Anyone else? 2.  There might be a limit on how many pictures of your baby doing nothing you can post in a day (A rule I am sure to never follow) so if such a rule exists, I defy that rule and to that rule I flip the bird. 3. There are guidelines as to which of your exes you can "friend", apparently.  Like, you know how you wouldn't deny their request but yet you don't want to "friend" request them first in case they A. Deny the request. B. Ignore the request and therefore you are left in Facebook Friend purgatory. Because: A. You don't want them to think you