Progress

As many, or all of you know, Mike's uncle, Bill, had a massive stroke back in January. He has been staying at a rehab facility in Everett for about a month and a half now and is getting ready to be transferred to stay in Arizona with his daughter. We are really hoping the change of scenary will do him good, as well as a nice climate change. Farrah and I have been visiting him at least once a week to check on his progress and to simply say hi. He loves seeing her. It really seems to brighten up his day. Every time I go there, it seems like there's a change for the better. The first time I saw a big change that I thought was great, was when he used the word, "shit." This was very significant, because of Bill's inability to communicate. For a while there, he could only say a handful of words, mainly yes and no. Now, when he tries to tell us something and gets stuck, he simply says, "shit" and that's all we need to hear to understand his frustration. It's a very good release for him. Last week, however, was probably the biggest break through. Farrah and I were sitting next to him and I was bouncing her on my knee and she was smiling very big at Bill. The whole time, Bill would coo at her and make noises. He heard me saying little things to her and suddenly, Bill formed a whole sentence!!! He said, "Look at that face." Can you believe it?!!! I just about fell out of my chair. I flipped out and said, "Holy shit, Bill! Did you just hear what you said?!!!" He shrugged it off and said, "yeah, but." That's all he got out. I asked him if he felt like the words just came out on their own, and he said yes. I reminded him that even if they just slipped out, they were the correct words to use in that moment. It was awesome. Well, lastnight we stopped by to see him again. Someone had helped him to the bathroom, but he managed to take care of business, get himself back in his wheelchair, open the bathroom door, and wheel himself out of his room to the hallway to meet me and Farrah. I was so impressed. We wheeled back to his room and got to his bed. He started to unfold his bed sheet and I asked if he wanted me to go ahead and do it. Yes. I thought maybe he wanted to use the sheet to go over him when he got into bed. He said, "No, make..." MAKE! New word! He pointed to the bed and said, "make." He asked me to make the bed. Done! Then there was the heavy blanket. It was very hot in the room so I assumed that he would want the blanket at the foot of his bed. I asked him and he said, "No, put..." and pointed up and down the bed. "Do you want me to lay the blanet out so it can cover you?" "Yes." YAY!!! We were fully communicating. To some, this may seem so trivial, but it was extremely exciting. With as little communicating as we can get out of him, it's so great when we can get something. I asked if he remembered saying, "Look at that face" and he did. He didn't shrug it off this time. He's noticing his own progress which is so important. I think it helps give him some hope that there will be some independence and communication at the end off this rough road. We can't wait to get Bill back. And I'm pretty confident that we will.

Dear Farrah Part 3

Holy cow, you're 3 months old today!!! You have your second cold and this one is not as friendly as the last one. You're so congested. When you breath, you sound like a pig. I've been using the little suction bulb on you, and at first you don't mind, but then as I start getting a rhythm going, you start to cry. This, of course, makes me feel like crap because I made you cry. However, I guess you got even with me by passing your virus onto me. Thanks for that. I've been propping you up to allow the mucus to flow out of your face rather than out your ass. Yeah, about that...you pooped snot. Twice. I thought for sure there was something terribly wrong with what I was seeing in your diaper, so I called the doctor. He said it was a common thing since babies don't know to blow their noses, they just swallow the snot. It's kinda gross, but makes perfectly good sense. You've been sleeping A LOT due to not feeling well. And that makes me feel bad for you. However, like the last time you were under the weather, you still give your dad and I that bright smile that says "everything's okay even when I feel like crap."

One of the neat things about you being 3 months old are the fun clothes I get to start putting you in. I haven't been able to put you in some of your "outfits" until recently. You are just now fitting in the 0-3 months clothes. You're so tiny that you still fit in your newborn clothes. Not for too much longer, though. This month you've worn two dresses and three pairs of pants. That's quite the change from your usual onesies and pajamas. We did have one weird moment when we put you in a dress and took you out to a restaurant with us. I figured we were finally going to go out for a nice dinner and figured I'd put you in a pretty red dress your Grandma Jan bought you. In my mind, I assumed this would also help people decipher whether you were a boy or a girl. The first person who looked in your carrier asked us, "How old is he? How big was he when he was born?" Your father responded with, "Well, HE is a SHE" and he continued to answer her questions from there. This was weird to us, because everything about you screams, GIRL.



Yesterday, I went through your room and started to "nest" again. I have hated how I organized things when you were on your way here. Since I had figured how I liked things to be, I had to rearrange your clothes. In doing so, I came across a whole bunch of clothes you can no longer wear. Those items would be any and all of your preemie clothes. Not only that, but the hats and clothes the hospital provided. Since your dad and I are sentimental idiots and don't feel comfortable throwing anything away that has anything connected to you, we will be saving those items. That means, when you read this when you're older, you will know exactly what I'm writing about because you will actually get to see them.

Every week your talking skills get stronger and stronger. Also, you've started to learn how to scream. It's actually a cross between a scream and a squeal. It usually starts before a cry and sometimes before you begin whining and then talking. You move your tongue around and try to tell me about your day. Not only does your mouth move, but you have several facial expressions to accompany your story and make it more complete and believable. You are able to lift your left eye brow while leaving the right one in a relaxed position. This is something that I can do and your father can do. This is your "I'm planning something evil and I'll be sure to leave it for you in my diaper" look.



Your new best friends are Left Hand and Right Hand. They constantly take up residence in your mouth. It seems that you've started to learn that they actually serve a purpose. When I give you your pacifier, your hands quickly head straight for the mouth and assist in keeping it in place. You have just recently started doing the same with your bottle. You aren't strong enough to hold it in place, but you seem to be quite aware that you can certainly help balance it.

You have discovered TV. Don't worry, it will not become your babysitter. You seem to really enjoy baby Einstein. And then there's your smile. I can't help but talk about it all the time. Your smile is SO BIG. I LOVE IT!!! The way you smile is almost too much for me. When you first see me or your dad, you smile really big, turn your head to the side, and almost in a bashful manner, pull your hands up to your face and hide. After that it's just constant ear to ear grinning. You already have some amazing smile lines around your eyes. That's a good sign. Smile lines are much more flattering that frown lines. However, you do frown sometimes, too. It's almost an expression of deep thought. Could be pooping, though. Well, you're starting to make a creaking door sound which means I need to head over and prevent the inevitable screaming. I can hardly believe you are already a quarter of a year old. Crazy.

I love you, Face.

Mama

It's sad...

Well, it has come time for me to make a very difficult decision. It's something that I hope I can get a little help with, too. I need to find a better home for Titan. He is not getting the attention he needs and deserves. I have become too overwhelmed with my new baby that my old baby has taken a back seat. While working full time, taking care of a newborn, and hitting the gym, my dog doesn't get to go for walks, go for drives, and the back yard suffers in not getting cleaned up. It's basically like taking care of two kids and it is very hard. I know there are several people out there that have probably managed to make it work, but I don't have things set up for him to be able to play like I know he'd like to. For this, I feel like shit because I absolutely love that dog, but I love him enough to know that he's not happy and he deserves to be because he's such a great dog. I'm hoping that those that read this might know someone who would like to have a good family dog. He's a very good dog. He went through puppy classes and knows the basic commands (sit, stay, down, come or wait). He's been socialized with other dogs and the groomers love him because he's one of the easiest large dogs to bathe because he's so cooperative. Titan needs a home with a yard large enough to run around in (fenced), a loving family, someone to walk him, and just give him their heart. He is not an aggressive dog so if someone is looking for a bad ass killer, Titan is not it. If any of you out there can help me with this, I'd really appreciate it. Please remember that this is a very difficult thing for me and I already feel like shit about it. It has made me feel a little like a failure as a dog owner and mommy of Titan. This is a decision that I've been fighting for quite sometime and saw coming when I was 7 months pregnant. Please help if you can.

Thank you.

Photo Nazi

Last month, Farrah had her newborn baby pictures taken. She is very photogenic and quite the little model. It was a fun experience and I was lucky enough to have used a photographer that had a digital camera so I could get a sneak peek at what the pictures would look like. Well, for the past couple weeks, the person who sells the pictures has been trying to schedule a time to meet up with me to place my order. We finally touched base last night and scheduled a meeting today from 12:30 to 1:30 with the hopes that maybe Mike could attend.

I rushed out of work and made it home at exactly12:30 with my daughter. It was her lunch time as well as mine, so I fed her while I waited. I waited, and then waited some more. I called her twice and she didn't answer her phone. At 1:00, she finally arrived. I was a little irritated, needless to say, since I don't like to go over my lunch break time too much and I was now left with 30 minutes. I knew I would just have to arrive later at work to realistically do this.

The lady went over the deals with me and shared how great their pictures were. And they were, but the prices weren't. I felt I was buying photos with little pieces of gold inserted into the paper. The package that had the works which included a framed 10 x 25 photo (or something like that), a 20 x somthing, all the photos in 5 x 7, all the photos in wallet size, a CD, and some other stuff. That was $800!!! WTF?! She went down the list and everything she said went in one ear and out the other. I just stopped listening. Like hell if I was going to spend that kind of money. The cheapest package: 3 - 5 x 7s and 1- 8 x 10 and that was $175. When she was finished, I told her that there was no way that I was pulling out my checkbook to pay for any of this. I needed to speak to my husband about it and see what we could do. They didn't offer anything where you could simply order the individual items you wanted; you had to purchase a package. She kept saying I thought your husband was going to be here. You said he would be here. In fact, I never did say that at all. I told her he would try to be here.

She didn't have any brochures and told me that she wasn't able to come out again and this would be the only time we could purchase. I was pissed off. I told her I thought the prices were outragious and I didn't think that there were any good deals in what she was offering. She then stated that if I wanted to go have photos done at Walmart to get a better deal, that was always an option but I wouldn't get near the quality. I said I'm not looking at buying crap either, I simply felt she needed to have it set up differently so people didn't feel like they had to buy on the spot. Had I known that was how it was going to be, I would have gone a different direction for our pictures. She then told me I probably should've asked her how the sales pitch would go when I was on the phone with her in the first place. Our friendly, yet not friendly bantering went back and forth for a good ten minutes while she packed her stuff to leave.

Finally, she took a deep breath and made me an offer that made a whole lot more sense than the BS she was trying to sell. She basically tied in one of the middle packages that are usually $500 and sold it to me at the $200 price. I'm not stupid. I know her packing her stuff to leave was part of her act to get me to break and ultimately have her finally give me the true offer. I believe they set it up to see if there are idiots there that would pay these horrible prices thinking this is the best they can get and that they're stuck losing their newborn's pictures if they don't. That's what pissed me off. I was ready to open the door and send her on her way without any pictures of Farrah, but it would've killed me. It's not like I could go back a month and get those shots again. She was already bigger than she was then.

The company was called "Growing Family". Do NOT buy from them. They are in the business of extortion. They hire people who don't have children to basically hold the photos of your babies hostage for an outragious ransom. If the sales people did have children of their own, they would be considered the devil. Shame on that company for putting several families through hell to get the pictures of their kids. They know we love our children like crazy so it makes us weak when it comes to spending money. Most of us have just written big checks for hospital bills, formula, diapers, and doctor appointments. Bastards.

Stuff

I haven't written in quite a while. I suppose there hasn't been a whole lot going on lately that I felt compelled to share with everyone. It seems that every time I write something, it's usually about Farrah, but I can't help it. She's still new and the "newness" hasn't quite worn off yet. Anyone who knows me, knows when I have someone special in my life that I am completely obsessed about, I usually talk about them all...the...time. For example, Mike. People at my work probably think I consider him my Lord because of how often I talk about him. Every person at every place I've ever worked at for the past 10 years, knows all there is to know about Mike Moody. I guess it's a pride thing. I'm proud of my relationship with my husband. He's my best friend and we have an awesome bond. Our relationship is unique and special. The other reason that I share about my husband and daughter so much is to make me feel less away from them. If I talk about them often, then I don't feel like I only get to see them for a small percentage of the day. It helps me miss them less.

Okay, now to talk about some things I've been up to. I've been hitting the gym religiously for the past few weeks and working my ass off. I've been altering my eating habits a bit to make sure that I keep a healthier life style and give Farrah more nutrients and my butt less fat. Mike plans to train me next month and part of me is excited about it while the rest of me is nervous. I really don't want to be pushed to the point of almost puking at the gym. It would be pretty embarrassing. I visit Bill and my parents as often as I can. It's very difficult to get out sometimes because it seems like there just isn't enough time in a day. It looks as though Uncle Bill will be transferred to Arizona to live with his daughter who is able to give him the constant care that he needs that, unfortunately, none of us have the ability at this time to do all that needs to be done for him. We will miss him while he's gone but we intend to make trips out there to see him. The goal is to get him back home to live on his own. Hopefully, that can be achieved in the next 6 months. I'm looking forward to daylight savings time so I can get out more. It just seems harder to do much of anything when it's dark. Well, anyway, this has been a pretty boring entry so I think I'll end it now while I'm ahead.

Crying Over Spilt Milk (and everything else)

Farrah is a cry baby. Not more than the average baby, but not necessarily less either. Sometimes I watch her when she cries and wonder what life would be like if I acted like her. For instance, if the pacifier she has been sucking on for a mere 10 seconds falls out of her mouth (mind you, she did it to herself by pushing it out with her tongue), the waterworks begin. Not only are the tears streaming but there is howling that goes along with it. She stops almost instantly once I put it back in her mouth, just to start up again when she pushes it back out. Picture, if you will, me at work. I've typed up a contract and just finished printing it. I go to grab the paper and it suddenly, without warning, falls out of my grip and sadly drops to the floor below about three inches from my hand. First, my vision gets blurred by tears starting to form, followed by shallow breaths. Suddenly, I begin to scream and cry while kicking my feet around and throwing my arms up in the air and waving them around. A kind co-worker quickly comes to my aid and picks up this sad piece of paper off the floor and gently hands it to me. I stop my crying and smile. Unfortuately, as I take the paper and go to put in on my desk, it slips from my grip and the tantrum once again begins. If I honestly thought I could get away with that, I would probably do it everyday and more likely than not, thoroughly enjoy it. However, I'm pretty sure after the first tantrum, I would be asked to leave the premises immediately. Babies, on the other hand, get away with this well into their toddler days. And we as parents, keep falling into their trap. As Mike refers to it, a baby's shrieks are like nails along a chalk board. Her cries make me sad and crazy all at once. Last night, we had a very interesting cry. Farrah was lying in her co-sleeper sucking away on her pacifier perfectly content when all of the sudden, I sneezed. Her eyes were big with surprise, but no reaction. Whew. Then out of the blue, another sneeze. This time, Farrah's eyes closed tight and her pouty mouth was wide open with no sound coming out. Oh, God, here it comes. I scared the shit out of her with my second explosive sneeze. The scream-cry followed the long drawn out silent-cry. I quickly picked her up and tried to console her by bouncing her around, telling her it was okay, that I was sorry, and giving her a couple shhhhs. Again, what if I behaved this way in my daily life? You know when you're outside on a walk and someone honks their horn? You get startled, right? Would you sit there and scream bloody-murder? Probably not. I know I sound terrible making fun of her, but mind you, every time she even lets out a slight whimper, it tugs hard at my heart strings. That is why when she has spit her pacifier out for the 20th time in a matter of 10 minutes, crying each time, I will always rush to her rescue and put that silly piece of plastic and rubber back in her mouth to keep her happy. She has figured me out. And even though it can make getting ready in the morning very difficult, I'm happy if she's happy.

Good God, NO!!!

Yesterday, I stayed home and took care of myself and the baby because of our nasty little colds. Pretty much the whole day, I chose not to watch any TV and just take it easy and get plenty of rest. Towards the end of the day I decided to put on a movie with our nifty little "On Demand" feature. One of the movies that was available was, "Clambake." Sounds filthy doesn't it? It's not. It's an Elvis Presley movie. I figured I'd put a cheesy movie on in the background while I did the dishes and worked on the computer for a while. Something a little innocent for my daughter to gaze at. Well, it didn't take long for my gag reflexes to start kicking in. I knew there was a reason I didn't exist during those days. I would've jumped off the closest bridge had that been the type of entertainment I'd have to live with.

Here are the scenes that I watched:

Elvis and some dude were driving down the road; Elvis on a motorcycle and the dude in a sports car. They were singing about how it's great to have money and how it's great to not have it. Okay, I get the point, but must it go on for 5 minutes? That's a long time for two men to be singing to each other while on the road.

Another scene was at the actual Clambake. Elvis started singing about the Clambake party he was at and out of the blue he grabbed an electric guitar and started to play. The weird thing was that the electric guitar played piano music. Is that what electric guitars sounded like back then?

There was also a scene with Elvis and a bunch of kids at a playground. He was singing a song about confidence. This horrible event went on for a good 10 minutes. 10 MINUTES!!! To drag the song out even more, he slowly spelt the word, "confidence." He'd say the letter 'C' and talk about it and then sing, 'confidence'. Then everyone ran around playing cowboys and indians. Not very PC if you ask me.

Finally, Elvis was in a boat shop putting a lacquer finish on a boat. His buddy walked into the shop and Elvis got mad and said, "You were supposed to be here two hours ago to help me get ready for the big race!" "Hey, man" his pal said, "I told you I'd be here for you and here I am!" Suddenly, two girls rush in wearing bikinis and they start dancing real hard. So hard, I was waiting for their noses to start bleeding. They were shimmying all over the place and doing the mashed potato and the twist up and down the stairs until they reached Elvis's boat. Suddenly, 4 more women walked in through some upper back doorway and start dancing seriously hard down the stairs. The whole time, Elvis was bopping his head.

I'm pretty sure, if I ever walked into some place in a bikini and started dancing and there was no music in the room (because you know they dubbed the music in later while in the editing room), I'd be locked away. I'd also probably get that bloody nose I was talking about.

In any case, it sounds like I watched the whole movie, which I did not. It was on in the back ground, but anytime music started I felt compelled to take a peak. Bad decision on my part. Oh, Elvis.

Dear Farrah #2

I was too lazy to write anything on Sunday for your two month Birthday. Does that make me a bad mother? I'm going to say no, because I chose to spend as much time with you as possible. Writing about it just slipped my mind. Okay, so some little milestones you've made lately...you smile when you recognize me and your father. When you do recognize us, you greet us with a big warm smile. You smile at us very big and your dimples come to life. In fact, I've noticed that you don't only have one dimple on both cheeks, but you have two on both cheeks. The big deep dimples are in the middle of each cheek and you have two little ones at the corners of your lips. Too cute. You had pictures taken by a photographer last week. Can hardly wait to see those. You are currently suffering through your first cold. On Friday, the 16th, your Grandma Rita watched you for the first time. According to her, you were well behaved, but that's because you slept most of the time. You find your voice more and more each day. You talk A LOT. A couple days ago, you actually said, "Goo Goo." Funny. You had your first taste of Daycare with Melissa yesterday. I was depressed for a while about it, but I knew you were in good hands. The wonderful thing was when I came to pick you up, you recognized me as soon as you saw me and said hello with a smile and those fabulous dimples. It was worth being away just to see that smile. Everyday, I repeat, "Mama" to you so you can start associating words and their identities. I know it will be a while before you say them, but it's smart to start early.

I love you, Sweet Face.

Mama

Sickly

So, it finally happened. I managed to thwart off catching a cold and/or the flu for over a year, and BAM! I caught a cold from one of the many sick bastards around me yesterday. (Mike, it may not have been from you. I'll blame it on Nick) Since I have a cold, that means that Farrah does, too. Crap. Luckily, her cold isn't too bad. I just hope she doesn't have the same sore throat that I have. One good thing, though. I tend to get rid of a cold or flu very quickly. I jump on the drugs and vitamins immediately and get plenty of rest. I also tend to use the whole mind over matter trick and the ailment escapes me within a day or two. Which is good considering I just started up at work again yesterday. I'm sure they're thinking I'm faking it so I could squeeze in another day with the baby.

Farrah's first cold. So cute, and yet so sad. She sneezes, it seems, every half hour to hour. She also periodically coughs. Nothing chesty though. I had called her doctor yesterday to see if I should switch her check up appointment scheduled for Friday to today, but they said she sounded like she was okay. I agree. I think it's worse for me because she's getting all the virus killing potion from my boobs. When Farrah sneezes or coughs, it sounds so adorable. Is that wrong of me to think that way? They're such petite noises, they're precious. She doesn't appear to be uncomfortable because she smiles after she releases the explosions out of her face. I will put a picture of "Sick Farrah" here to document her first ailment. Are you convinced she's under the weather? Yeah...her red nose and red eyes give it away.

Whaaa...

My constant all day long one on one time with Farrah is going to be coming to an unfortunate end. It is time for me to go back to work. I hate it. I love my job and the people I get to work with, but the idea of being pulled away from her and potentially missing any of her "firsts" breaks my heart. This week I will be working part time to try to integrade back into the work force and the following week I will be full time. : ( I get a sick and sad pain in my stomach when I think about it. I hope that there will be a way for me to eventually work from home from time to time. I know I told people at work that I wouldn't become that overly obsessive mother who had pictures of her kid all over the place, but I think I lied. In order for me to survive separation, I will have pictures of her everywhere. EVERYWHERE. I will put her on my screensaver, I'll make a Farrah calendar, I will make a Farrah collage, Farrah video to play on my computer, Farrah everything. It will feel weird not to have her in front of me at all times. I have to make up for it somehow.

Most Popular Girls at the Party

The Seattle Home Show started today. Mike's booth is all set up and the guys are ready for a big year for 2007. I love going to the Home Show and being a part of the "Family Business." Farrah and I decided that we would go and visit her dad and check things out. I got her all dressed up and cute for her dad. She wore a little white long sleeved onesie with ruffles on the back. She also wore socks and a head band. She never wears head bands, but I thought I'd make a special exception. When we arrived at Quest Field, it began. It seemed like we were approached by anyone and everyone. The guy operating the elevator, the people on the elevator, the people checking tickets, and all the vendors until I reached Mike's booth. Then Mike took her out of her stroller and we walked around to show her to people we know. We, of course, got all the ooohs and ahhhs from our friends. There were several that didn't even know that we were expecting and so they were very surprised.

Later, I had to take her to be fed and to change her. I had to have been stopped 10 different times my first trip to the restroom by people who either recognized me and complete strangers to ask me about her. At the booth, we were asked so many times by people passing by about her. The comments constantly made were: "How old is she? Oh, I have a (insert relation and age here). The time goes by so fast. Remember these times, because they'll be gone before you know it. I can hardly remember when (insert name and/or relation here) was that little." Ahh. I'm so glad that I have a camera to capture as much as we do. I keep hearing about how it will go by before a blink of an eye. On that note, I will insert pictures that help capture a couple of sweet and funny memories from yesterday.

I took several pictures while changing her because she always smiles and laughs when she gets changed. I captured a wonderful picture of her smiling. After that, she decided to get fussy and then full on pissed off. I chose to take a picture of me making fun of her crying. I know I'm mean, but I think it's funny. She'll thank me for it when she's older.

Doing My Part

I just finished writing to the Washington State Department of Transportation. Tonight, there was yet another fatality on I-5 by our house. There has now been, I believe 5 fatalities in the last 3-4 years. That is ridiculous. The last time there was a fatality, I wrote to the DOT and they quickly responded. Mind you, they did not send out a mass email to me and everyone else who wrote. The woman who responded wrote to me and mentioned my personal concerns. I was glad at the time that I had written. Now, I have written again and I hope I get a response again. Only this time, I hope they respond with the right answer. The right answer is to put up concrete barriers rather than those stupid cables that are supposed to stop a vehicle going 60+ mph from crossing over to oncoming traffic. Anyone else who lives in this area, please send a message to the DOT that white knuckle driving through Marysville on I-5 is unacceptable.

Tonight, I crawled through traffic from Everett all the way to Arlington. That drive is usually a 40 minute commute. Tonight it was 2 hours. Keep in mind, I had an 8 week old baby in the back screaming that she wanted some boobie that I could not provide. I thought it would be dangerous to pull to the side of the freeway and feed her. So, I periodically got to hear her scream at me. I felt horrible. I constantly had to remove my seatbelt, keep one hand on the steering wheel, and stretch and reach for her pacifier and stick it back in her mouth. Luckily we weren't driving any faster than one of those dogs whose back legs were paralized, pulling himself on a makeshift doggie wheel chair. Does that sentence make sense? I read it about 5 times and I think I put down what I wanted to say, but quite honestly I'm so exhausted from that drive, someone speaking jibberish would make sense to me. The entire drive was pretty miserable, but what can you do? Now, I remember why I hardly ever head South.

Hil-Larry-Us

The other day, I was filming my daughter. It's a little new obsessive habbit I have, that and taking pictures of the same pose 20 times. She was sitting in her swing, or lying there, and I wanted to film her sticking out her tongue. The moment she was born, her tongue was out of her mouth. She constantly sticks it out. It's as if she is saying, "mmla, mmla, mmla" over and over. Can you picture what I'm saying? In any case, it's funny. So, to try and document her doing this, I put her in her swing and hit record. The video is about 2 minutes long (I wish I could post it on this blog for you to see). For the first minute and 45 seconds she is just lying there making various noises and faces to match. Her tongue sticks out every once in a while. Then the climax. She makes a frowny face, turns red, and you hear the explosion in her pants. Immediately following the loud noise, the expression on her face turns from relief to pure disgust. The look of horror of what she just did is very apparent. It's as if she is saying, "Oh my frickin' God, did I just do that?!!! I'm the most disgusting person on the planet and I can't believe how bad I smell!!!" Serious. If you have access to MySpace, check out my site and look for the video. You WILL laugh. If you don't, then you don't have a sense of humor. If you can't get to my MySpace, email me at kathyemoody@earthlink.net or kmoody@platinumpnw.com and ask me to send it to you. It's quite the masterpiece of filming.

Another fun moment...Farrah's bowels have become explosive. Really. There have been a couple of times when there has been a small amount of baby poo around the edges of her diapers at her legs and some on her back. It hasn't been too bad, thank god. Only enough to make a small stain. Well, the other day I was playing with her. She was sitting on my lap facing me while I bounced her up and down and had a "baby talk" conversation with her. Suddenly, she grunted and pooped. No big deal, right? It wasn't until 5 minutes later that I realized what had happened. I needed to take her upstairs to change her. I picked her up and my legs felt wet. That's because they were. Wet with poop and pee. This wasn't your typical blow-out situation. I just happened to use a different diaper earlier because I thought she was big enough to finally use Huggies Preemies for giant babies. Does that make sense? It doesn't make sense to me either. They are made for preemies. Preemies. Aren't preemies small? These diapers are made for a 15-20 pound baby. I put these ridiculously large diapers on Farrah and she was brewing up an explosion in her intestines. It was the perfect storm. So, you'd think the first thing I would do is quickly take her upstairs and clean her up and clean myself up. Of course, the first thing that I did was call Mike. I sat there with Farrah in my arms and her shit on my lap to tell her dad how funny it was. Usually, when you think of the term "Blow Out" it is a positive thing. You know, like a "Blow Out" sale. It makes me think of a huge opportunity to buy furniture or a car. No, baby blow outs aren't usually a positive thing. The only opportunity there is the opportunity to use that new bottle of stain remover that you've been keeping on stand by for the past few weeks.

Uncle Bill

I know it's been a long time since I last wrote, but there has been a lot going on. Recently, Mike's uncle Bill had a massive stroke. It has been devastating for the family. Bill was one of Mike's best men at our wedding. They have a very close bond and are best friends. We've had family fly in and friends fly in to give Bill support. We have high hopes for a speedy recovery and appreciate any good thoughts and prayers for Bill.

New Experiences

Four nights ago, Mike and I decided it was time to put Farrah in her crib. It's not that I don't completely love to cuddle and sleep with her, it's just that I need to be able to get some sleep. For several nights, I have been up at all hours of the night because she wants to talk my ear off. She has inherrited the talky gene from me, her Grandma, and her Great Grandma. I apologize in advance to anyone who thinks they would like to carry a conversation with her someday with hopes that you will get two words in. Good luck with that. In any case, as the circles under my eyes began to get darker and my appearance along with my walk became more like that from a scene of The Living Dead, we knew it was time. I gave her a bath, turned down the volume on the TV, turned off most of the lights in the house, fed her, and spent the rest of the time whispering with Mike. The house was shut down. I put her in her crib and turned on the monitor. I kept her door cracked as well as ours so I could have a back up method to hear her. Can you believe that it worked?!! She fell asleep for about two hours, wanted to eat, I fed her, put her back, and she slept for another 5 hours! I GOT TO SLEEP!!! This small achivement actually made me love her even more. Then there were the next two nights. She felt like staying up. All...night...long. So tired. However, one of the nights was our fault. I didn't give her a bath and we took her down stairs with us at 10:00 PM to watch a two hour long movie. She slept through it and then when it was time to go to bed she didn't want to. Don't shake your finger at me, I know we screwed that one up. Last night we went through the same routine as the first time. Much better. Slowly but surely, Mike and I are going to try to get to bed earlier so she can get to bed earlier. That way when I have to start going back to work, I won't feel like slitting my wrists at the thought of getting up at 7:30 rather than noon.

Last night was an interesting experience with Farrah. I wanted to get together with my parents because my mom is going in for surgery today on her back (which should make a world of difference for her and we're all very excited). My parents wanted me to meet up with them for dinner a little before 6. I was getting ready to leave at 5:15 when I noticed that Mike had the base to the car seat. I thought I was going to kill him. He was at the gym and by the time he'd stop what he was doing, grab his stuff, and get here, it would be way too late for me to leave. So, he and I agreed that it was only two miles away and that I could tie her seat up with the seat belt and drive very carefully to the gym to get the base. It was a Brittany Spears moment. Don't judge me. We made it there safely and I got the base out of the car. Mind you, the whole 2 mile drive was noisy from Farrah screaming and crying the whole time. Aghh. She settled down and we headed for the restaurant. We got there and met up with my parents and Grandma. We ordered our meal and just talked. As soon as my meal arrived, out came an awful squeal from my daughter. I quickly checked her straps in her car seat to make sure nothing was pinching her. She was crying her hard cry so I unstrapped her and held her while trying to eat at the same time. That didn't work. My mom told me to hand her to her, then my dad said he'd hold her, followed by my grandma. I held her a little while longer and then finally handed her over to my mom so I could get a couple of bites of my dinner. She was passed around to everyone and then we figured no one would be able to make her stop until I fed her dinner. Great. I grabbed her and took her to the ladies room for a quick change and brought her back to the table. She stopped crying for the whole time that I changed her so I was excited thinking that I wouldn't have to pull a boob out in public. As soon as we sat down, the screaming started again. Mind you, Farrah is a LOUD child. Even the waitress had to come over and ask how old she was because she had never heard a newborn have such a loud cry her whole life. Her vocal chords aren't even fully developed yet, so I am scared to think what we have waiting for us down the road. Luckily, the restaurant was pretty empty so I was able to grab the booth behind my family and whip it out. This seemed to be exactly what she wanted. Eventually, I figured I was more covered than I thought so I walked with her still attached to my family's table and seriously multi-tasked. I sat there feeding Farrah, hiding myself, eating my dinner, and readjusting myself under my blanket whenever Farrah got unattached. My parents and grandma got a kick out of watching me do this. They wished they'd had a camera because I looked so ridiculous. Oh well, it worked! Boy, when that kid gets hungry she let's you know immediately.

After that fun time, Farrah and I took off to Babies R Us for some much needed items. I bought an extra car seat base for Mike's car, a mobile, a tummy play mat, a slumber bear (wonderful little item to put her to sleep with), and an adorable outfit for her next set of pictures. I can hardly wait until they're done. She's going to look amazing. She already does.

Dear Farrah Part 1

Today, Monday January 15th, you are 4 weeks old. I couldn't decide whether or not I was going to do my letters to you on certain weeks or months. So, I went for the 4 week milestone because I couldn't hold back any longer on what I want to say to you. Here goes...

You are wonderful. Although, you tend to keep me up all hours of the night, it's not entirely your fault. See, when you're asleep and I should be asleep, I am up staring at you. I know it sounds odd, but I honestly can't help it. I am so amazed at your existence. The science behind you going from a microscopic egg to a living breathing person is incredible. But the emotional tug at my and your dad's heart strings is beyond anything I could've imagined. You are at such peace when you are asleep. I love to look at the shape of your face, your almond eyes, your pouty lips, pudgy nose, plump cheeks, and perfectly crazy hair. I love your face so much. In fact, it is one of my nick names for you. Face. I love to call you Face, because I just can't get enough of it. If it wouldn't hurt you and be considered psychotic, I'd like to remove your face and eat it for desert because it would be that delicious. I also call you this name because of the many different facial expressions that you make. My favorite face you make is actually probably your most unflattering. Whenever you have completed doing something very relaxing such as sleeping or nursing, you pull your forehead up and make several creases below your hairline, you keep your eyes closed while it looks like you're looking as high up as you can, and you pucker your lips like you're ready for a big kiss. I LOVE THIS! You also tend to push your head back as far as it will go, arch your back, stick your butt out, and put your hands in fists and hold them to your cheeks. It is the first of many stretches after a wonderful slumber. The face you make when you're pooping and farting is also priceless. You scrunch everything together and look away while the explosion erupts. I can't tell you how many times I've told your father that I love your face. Right now, you are sporting some seriously cute baby acne. We match! Only yours is adorable and mine is not. Yours actually looks like freckles. They are slowly but surely going away, though (for both of us).

You are approximately 7 and a half pounds right now. You're growing a little everyday. Part of me wants you to remain this tiny little helpless person, while the rest of me can hardly wait for what's going to happen next as you continue to grow and learn. For the past week, your dad and I have noticed that you are recognizing both of us. In the past couple days, though, you are making perfect eye contact with us. This blew me away the first time I noticed. You have looked me straight in the eye while I've talked to you. You understand the roles that your dad and I play in your life. You have seemed to grasp the concept that when you aren't feeling well or if you feel lonely, the second our hands touch you and begin to lift you in our arms you start to calm down and pull yourself as close to us as possible. One of your favorite things is to lie chest to chest on your dad. This is one of his favorite things, too. It is something that you can do for hours and feel completely content. It's a closeness the two of you will have forever. I can picture you lying with your daddy when you're 6 years old and sleeping while he watches Jeopardy.

You also love to lie in my arms when we sleep. I, too, love this. I've had people scold me for doing this, but quite honestly, I could care less what they think. What do they know? Their kids are their kids. Everyone will do things that they see fit for their family, and this is what suits us. I usually keep you about 8 inches away from me so as to make sure that I don't crush you, however, with your incredibly strong legs you manage to push yourself up to me as close as you can get until we are touching. In fact, there was one morning when I woke up to you sleeping nose to nose with me. It was awesome. I knew back when we had the first 4D Ultrasound done that you would be a snuggly kid. I was right.

This last week has been a tough one. You have had some pretty bad gas. When I say that, I don't mean that we wanted to put you outside with the dog to take care of your dirty business. You've had gas pains. This has been difficult for your dad and I. You cry with the pain and we've tried many different things to try to get you comfortable. For the last two nights, I was up with you for hours downstairs so your dad could get some needed sleep. I hate seeing you uncomfortable. When you cry or squeal in pain, it tears me up inside. All I can do is hold you and talk you through it. Your dad is the Jedi master when it comes to burping you so he has come in handy to try to help relieve any future gas. Unfortunately, it doesn't take care of all of it.

You do one thing that breaks my heart. You cry when you're lonely. If you think that I've left you all alone, you cry. I mean you really cry. This is the hard crying with the pouty bottom lip, the screaming at the top of your little lungs, and the choking in between. I hate this. I don't hate it because it sounds like nails against a chalk board, but because it truly breaks my heart. It makes me want to sit there and cry along side with you. But again, the moment I pull you to me, you settle down because you know you're mommy is going to make it okay. (By the way, you didn't want to be alone while I typed this so I have you curled up in a ball in my lap right now).

Another feature of yours that is very entertaining is your tongue. I've never seen anything like it before. It is always sticking out of your mouth. Your Grandpa asks if I accidentally gave birth to a lizard and that we need to be careful because you could end up catching flies with that thing. As a matter of fact, as I type this your tongue is down to your chin. I suppose I need to break away and feed you as I have determined this is your way of asking for dinner. Your tongue was out of your mouth, literally, the moment you came out of the womb. It's funny. I hope to catch you on video one of the next times while you communicate with us with your tongue.

The second nickname I've given you is Squeak. This is because of the many squeaky noises you make. You squeak before you begin to make the creaking door sound which then turns into a baby coo. But there's always a good long few squeaks to make me smile. They're so high pitched. I didn't know babies made sounds like that. It's awesomely adorable. By the way, I should probably tell you what your first word was. We heard it week 2 of your existence. It was, "hot." Yep. Pretty sure you didn't know what you were saying but the way your mouth was formed with the perfect timing of the sound coming out, it created the word "hot." Okay, so it wasn't truly your first word because you weren't referencing anything actually being hot, but I thought I should put it in here so that I never forgot.

Saturday, January 13th was your Grandma Jan and Grandpa Bob's first time babysitting you. They loved it. As soon as I walked in and gave them the information they needed before I left you, they were already playing house with you. Grandpa held you in his arms and walked around with you while Grandma pulled out a small pot to heat your bottle in. Not just any bottle, but your FIRST bottle. You hadn't eaten all morning because you had terrible gas which gave you a stomach ache so I brought some pumped milk. I was a little uneasy to leave you for the hour and half to two hours that I would be gone knowing you hadn't eaten and that you'd never taken a bottle before. However, your Grandma was able to feed you. I had instructed them not to heat more than 2 oz of milk for fear that you wouldn't eat it. Not only did you finish it, but they were able to get you to take an additional ounce. Good girl! Tonight, I went over to Grandma and Grandpa's for a visit and dinner. I picked up your Great Grandma and brought her over so she, too could spend some time with you. She held you for a good hour and you remained calm and relaxed the whole time. How could you not? I loved lying with my Grandma and snuggling with her when I was a kid. If you ask nicely, she'll rub your back. That was my favorite thing that my Grandma would do. She'd sit and talk to the adults while rubbing my back for a long time. I loved it.

You're a very lucky little girl, Farrah. You are very loved. Every new day, every new experience brings on new feelings of joy, bewilderment, and love for you. Your dad and I love you so much. Everyday feels like Christmas morning. I love waking up to my gift. You'll have nothing but happiness and love in your life because that's what everyone feels when they're around you.

Here are some recent photos that make me smile and make me laugh...

Bath Time Fun

Farrah loves getting a bath. I love giving Farrah a bath. She smells so good and she's adorable naked. I can take a diaper changing moment full of screams and tears and get her to completely relax and get comfortable. Monday night, however, she got so relaxed and comfortable that she shit in her tub. You know you've made it to "mommyhood" when a moment like that can seem precious. Is that weird? I laughed histarically, removed my child from the fecal infested tub, cleaned out the tub, and tried again. When Farrah is all clean and I begin to dry her off, her long dark hair has a bit of curl to it. When her hair completely dries, however, it is completely straight and sticks up like an old 80s Pat Benatar. Super cool.

Another memorable moment with my daughter was a recent diaper changing experience. In a matter of 5-10 minutes, I managed to change her diaper 4 times! This girl knows when she wants to go and although it might be completely inconvenient for others, she makes her decision to go and then executes that decision. Even though in that moment I let out a very loud, "God Dammit!", I was laughing the whole time. How could I not? It's still precious. Like I've always said, poop is funny, and Farrah just knows how to make it funnier.

P.S. It has been brought to my attention that I now have dark circles under my eyes. I intend to make a trip to Target tomorrow and buy some diapers, some Febreze, and some light colored concealer to fool everyone into thinking that I am well rested or I might have to make a trip to the art section, buy some paint, and paint my eyelids with open and alert eyes. Either way, it's all an act. I'm tired. Even so, I am loving this experience.

Kinda Tired

Since December 18th, I haven't been getting a lot of sleep. Unfortunately, before that I had been suffering from insomnia. So, before my baby arrived, I was already very sleep deprived. Ironically, I had the notion that she was on her way so I was smart enough to take a sleeping pill Saturday night of the 16th and got some very needed rest. In any case, I just thought I'd complain about how tired I am and how screwed up my schedule is.

When I was pregnant, Farrah was active when I was active and slept when I'd sleep. I thought for sure this would automatically continue out of the womb. Wrong. She likes to sleep a lot. Only she likes to sleep when I'm awake. When I'm awake, I feel like I need to do stuff. From her first week home with us, she found her voice. She doesn't sit there and scream when we're trying to sleep; she talks. She talks soooooo much. Many of you can probably guess who she inherited that from. When we've all settled down for the night, she talks about being in bed, she talks about what we're watching on TV, she talks about what she's eating when being fed, she talks about being held, it just doesn't end. When I put her in her co-sleeper, she babbles on and on. So, to get her to stop, I have to hold her in my arms to get her to fall asleep. When she seems like she's out cold, I gently put her back. That's when her conversation with herself starts up again. Mind you, she has a lot to say, too. What, with having so many life experiences in a matter of weeks. You know, pooping, peeing, crying, eating, and pooping some more. She has to tell someone about it.

Mike has been sick for the past 4-5 days. Unfortunately, that means I haven't been able to hand her over to him for help. He can't touch her when he's sick. I think I'd have a heart attack if she were to catch a cold right now while I'm still trying to get accustomed to her sounds. The very first time she coughed (mind you she exerted 2 coughs) it scared me so bad that I started to cry. I know I'd flip out. In any case, with Mike being sick I've had to make sure that every time she'd cry I'd get up to check on her. If she just wanted to cuddle, I'd have to do it (although I love to cuddle with her) and wouldn't get an opportunity to take a nap. It has seemed that everytime I would get ready to take nap, she'd need to be fed or burped or changed.

A few nights ago, I was up from 11:00pm to 4:00am. That's just ridiculous. And since Mike has to work and is also suffering from sleep deprivation, I've had to pick Farrah up and sleep downstairs. I have to do that since that's where there is a TV to watch while I try to get her to relax and eventually pass out. This is something I've ended up doing for a few nights now. So, now my schedule is completely screwed up. I sleep from 8 or 9 in the morning until noon. I don't take naps like I should when she sleeps. Instead, I'm up. Last night was probably the worse of it. I know it was because I finally broke down crying from exhaustion. I wanted to sleep so bad, but Farrah wanted to eat. At least that's what I thought. She constantly would fake me out by pretending to go for the boob and then just decide to talk, grunt, kick, and cry. Aghhh. I cried in frustration and wrapped her up and took her downstairs with me and curled up with her in blankets. Eventually, I did get a little bit of sleep. Mike came down around 4 in the morning from being up all night from coughing. We're a piece of work. This weekend has been a lazy weekend. Mike said I was so tired because my body was working so hard to produce so much grease in my hair and I told him that he was so tired because his body had worked so hard making all his hair grow on his face and make his skin smell. We both found enough energy deep down in our souls to finally turn on the shower and use some soap. Well, I must now prepare myself for another night of potential sleeplessness.

Sound the Trumpets!

I'm trying to post as much stuff as I can possibly remember as it comes to me about my new motherhood experiences. Farrah will be three weeks old on Monday. Can you believe it?!! Before we know it, she'll be enrolled in Kindergarten and we'll have to start making quarterly visits to the principal's office. Of course we won't have to do that, because she's just too perfect. Anyway, getting to know our daughter has been quite fun and tiring. The whole diaper changing experience has not been as big of a deal as I thought it could be. One very good characteristic of Farrah is she doesn't like to be dirty. Not that there are a lot of people who like to sit in their own feces, but she really isn't a fan. She pretty much gets her diaper changed minutes after she blows.

Yes, Farrah has trumpets in her pants. She is a product of her father. At three weeks of age, she can put many beer guzzling, chili eating, men to shame with the racket that her butt makes. It is quite impressive. Farrah also has a way to announce that a good fart or poop is on its way. She grunts. She bears down, lets loose a grunt, does her dirty business, and releases an "ahh" and sigh of relief. Every time she does this I can't help but laugh. Of course, she times a massive crap almost immediately following a recent diaper change. The words, "Are you kidding me?" have escaped my and Mike's mouths at least three times a day since her arrival. She knows how to keep us on our toes, because believe me, I don't want to hold her and smell that. It's not "cute", it's smelly.

Speaking of smelly, holy lord did her umbilical cord stink like death. At first, the smell scared us thinking that our little girl's belly button was infected. Later, after talking to other mothers we learned that some smell and some don't and that it is perfectly normal. A lot of empty diapers that I was getting ready to change were a result of thinking that she had crapped herself, when in fact it was her rotting cord. Last week I took her to her doctor's appointment for her second PKU test and the doctor was kind enough to remove the cord. I had to step out of the room for fear that I would either faint seeing her do this or barf all over the place. Of course, they didn't want the mess so I was sent out for the minute it took for them to remove it. Apparently, the cord was also acting as a plug for an incredible amount of shit that Farrah was storing. It didn't hurt her when it was removed, but when it was she crapped all over the place including all over the nurse and peed all over the exam table. I suppose I could've watched and simply participated by barfing and contributing to the mess. I'm sure they're glad I didn't. The doctor and nurse were very gracious and kind about the little "accident".

Breastfeeding. Ah, the wonders of being a mother and being responsible for the wellbeing, health, and weight gain of your child. It has come pretty naturally for me, but it hasn't been without it's challenges. It can be quite painful at times. Luckily, I had a good talk with Evie who told me to just tough it out the best I can. If I couldn't do it, I wouldn't be judged. Well, I've managed to keep it going this long and intend to continue. Being the naive new mother that I am, my first two weeks into this thing I thought I was supposed to put a boob in her face every time she cried or fussed. That, of course, made me very tired. All she would end up doing is eating for about 5 minutes and fall asleep. It concerned me because I thought she wasn't getting enough to eat. Mike was kind enough to introduce me to the magic that is the pacifier. She just wanted to be nurtured. So we now provide her with artificial nurturing from time to time.

Night Life

After I was handed my daughter and I was fully stitched and covered up, family started to make their way in. Of course, we wanted her brothers in there. Nick and Alex came in and saw their sister and both got their pictures taken with her. Steve (my brother) and his wife, Bree came in and saw her. Steve was afraid to hold her though, because he thought she was too fragile. Melissa, Nick's mom was their. Donna, Joe, and Kristina drove all the way from Whidbey Island. Jen came by after a lot of people had left. Her reaction was sweet. Our friends, Stacy and Calvin and their sons, stopped by and brought flowers. Stacy had mentioned how much she loved the photo that Mike sent out to everyone. I hadn't seen it so Mike showed it to me and I broke down. Clayton and Cynthia also stopped by. If you can't already tell, I'm giving a "shout out" to those that came to see us. If I missed anyone and you're reading this and your name was missed, sorry.

One treat that I had was chocolate milk. When I was in labor, I was craving chocolate milk like crazy. My dad went and bought me one. I had to send him out to get me about 3-4 more. That's how bad I wanted it. The cafetieria called me and took my order for dinner. Ironically, I was also craving a toasted cheese sandwich and tomato soup. They had it on the menu. When they asked me what I wanted to drink...chocolate milk of course. As soon as I was allowed, my dad grabbed two of my chocolate milks. I also had massive amounts of water. My dinner came and people started heading home. Eventually, it was just me and Mike. Every chance Mike had, he would curl up with Farrah as he laid on the couch. The nurses had me all set up with plenty of drugs to take so I can use the bathroom. They did a great job at freaking me out about it. Mind you, they were incredibly helpful, though.

Throughout the evening, Mike slept as much as he could, I got up almost every hour when the nurses came in to check on me and check on Farrah, and ultimately didn't get a whole lot of sleep. It was okay, though. I LOVED getting up to change her, to feed her, and to simply hold her and look at her. It was so nice. The room was dark and quiet and Mike would wake up from time to time and ask me how I was doing and check on her. We felt like a little family. It was an incredible feeling. I was definately ready to go home the next day.

The next day, my parents stopped by and so did my younger brother, Jeff. Alex also stopped by and helped us get some of the final details taken care of. We left to go home around 6 pm. I was very excited. I was also very high with my drugs. I sat in the back with Farrah and Mike chauffered us home. Most of the rest of that evening is a blank. I'm sure we tried putting her in her co-sleeper, but ultimately slept with her in my arms (which is what she still does). We took massive pictures of everything. I'll be sure to share some.