Merry Christmas

And what a Christmas it was for us, too. I went in to this holiday fully expecting my excitement to far overshadow the excitement exhibited by Emily. After all, she's only one and a half, and up until recently she has been just as thrilled about tupperware as she has been about anything else. So, even though we had some cool stuff for her, I was prepared for what I thought could be a big letdown when she decided to pass by the new toys for the box they came in. Well, I guess those days might be over, because she brought me a neatly wrapped present delivered by the neighbors on Christmas Eve and said "open, please!". She opened it almost all by herself, and was delighted with her new toy. She must have remembered this experience Christmas morning, because she shouted "Presents! Presents! Open, open!". She is old enough now to have some imagination in her play, and she was delighted by everything. She kept going strong until suddenly she was exhausted and overstimulated by all of the new things, and pleaded "no more!", and went down for a morning nap. Once she was refreshed by some sleep, she was ready to go back at it. While I received some wonderful gifts myself, seeing my little girl so excited by new and interesting things was by far the most priceless gift of all.

'Tis the Season

In the Herron household, generally we wait until Christmas is almost upon us to start decorating, celebrating, and generally getting into all things Christmas. In fact, I distinctly remember a Christmas not-so-past that we were putting up the Christmas tree on Christmas Eve. However, we (ok, I...) decided to kick off the Christmas season a little bit early this year. Emily and I joined Santa, Elves, and some friends from work at "Cookies and Milk with Santa" sponsored by Beaumont Hospice (yes, my office. Hey, it was convenient, and I personally know the santa :) We got to put together crafts of Christmas ornaments and holiday picture frames (ok, so I did the craft too...however Emily just loved making piles of the colored foam), chow down on almost every type of cookie you could imagine, (ok, so I did most of the cookie eating too...this is what you get for having a preggo around cookies at 10 o' clock in the morning having had no breakfast! Emily did however devour the largest sugar cookie I had ever seen), listen to Elves read Christmas stories, and meet the Jolly Bearded Man himself. I must say, I wasn't expecting Emily to react very well to Santa, given her stranger anxiety and all. But she was very, very curious about the Man in Red, even tentatively approaching him to accept a candy cane (I thought having her sit on his lap might just be asking a bit too much from her!). The candy cane was the greatest discovery, direct quote from Emily : "YUMMY!" Emily had the greatest time running around, staring in awe at the elves and other kids, and playing "peekaboo!" with the office ladies. I had a great time too, just watching my little girl have fun and remembering how cool Christmas was when you were a kid and you believed in Santa, Rudolph, and magic, and didn't have to put up and take down all the Christmas decorations yourself :) What a great way to kick off the Christmas season...bring on the holidays!

Every Bunny Needs Some Bunny to Love

Somehow Emily has become obsessed with bunnies. We think this may be due to the real-live bunny they happen to have at Emily's school. His name is Hunny-Bunny, and they will put a diaper on him and let him hop around the room at times. The kids love him. But, I digress. Emily...fascination... bunnies...there we go. She has this stuffed bunny she has to take EVERYWHERE, she sleeps with him and the first word out of her mouth in the morning (replacing the former, "shoes") is "...bunny!" So we thought it would be fitting to dress her as a bunny for Halloween. And what a bunny she was. I'm not sure if she really "got it" or not, but she did not mind wearing the costume at all, and obligingly "hopped" around the front patio while kids streamed up during Trick-or-Treat time, alternatively running in circles and stuffing her mouth with candy. Oh, the enthusiasm. She even got to meet a little girl dressed as Elmo, and we were treated to a very bizarre "Bunny-Meets-Elmo" moment, very cute though! We had a great time just hanging out and watching all of the kids in the neighborhood, and Emily developed a taste for Smarties. Discerning palate, that's my girl.

IT'S A BOY!

I was fairly convinced from early on in this pregnancy that the baby was another girl. That is, until a couple of weeks ago. I started dreaming about boys. A boy name that I actually LIKED just came to me out of nowhere. The night before our big ultrasound, I dreamed that not only was the baby a boy, it was TWIN boys (I had had an early ultrasound that showed only one little baby-blob, but anxiety provoking nonetheless!!). Then came the kicker. While viewing our wiggly, squiggly baby on the ultrasound screen, the baby flashed us the "hang loose" sign. 'Oh my gosh', I thought, 'this baby really IS a boy. A girl just wouldn't do that'. Sure enough, several hours later when we opened the envelope, it was confirmed. It's a BOY! Oh my gosh, a BOY!! So, commence with the boy-name negotiations, buying blue clothes, and generally preparing for our first son to join the family. Here we go!

"Yay...BEER!"

I really can't believe we have reached this point already, but it appears that we have. I am referring to the ability of your child to spontaneously say things that embarrass you. In public.
I should preface this whole story by saying that Emily is a real chatterbox. She talks, sings, and babbles almost incessantly. It is very cute. She also will repeat almost anything you say to her (not always perfectly, but she's not shy about trying). This can be a fun game with her, especially if she doesn't know what she is really saying. Or if you THINK that she doesn't know what she is saying. For example, Greg thought it was funny to teach her how to say "Yay...BEER!". And it was. She is very exuberant when she says anything prefixed by a "Yay!", it's like she knows it's exciting. Couple the "yay!" with "beer!" coming out of a 17 month old's mouth and it's endearing. That is, unless it's in public.
I am home with Emily every Thursday, and it has become part of our Thursday morning routine to do our weekly grocery shopping right after breakfast. So here we are, like any other Thursday morning, strolling innocently down the aisles of Meijer. I take a shortcut towards the greeting cards down the soda aisle. Which is right next to the beer aisle. Emily spies the familiar blue-and-silver logo of the ever-present Busch box (so we're on a budget, OK?) and without missing a beat yells "BEER!". As she points. Oh dear.
I actually broke out laughing and thought it was just the cutest thing (in a dysfunctional-family sort of way), that is until I saw the strange looks the old lady at the cheese cooler was giving me. I just kind of giggled and high-tailed it towards the cards, expecting this slightly embarrassing yet still funny incident to be behind me as soon as the beer was out of sight. Not so. Emily continued to yell "BEER! BEER!" pretty much all the way across Meijer until we finally entered a checkout lane, when she became distracted by a familiar Doggy book that she has at home, and suddenly "BEER!" was replaced by "DOGGY!".
*Sigh* This incident made me examine my own history and look back on all of the highly embarrassing things I myself said in public as a child, and I am amazed that my mom didn't give me up for adoption at some point. I guess that it's moments like these that, while embarrassing, are in fact the spice of life. Kids really do say the darndest things. Oh yeah, and "YAY BEER!!"

Make way for Number Two...

Here we go, Herron baby number two is on the way. While we planned this pregnancy and want this baby very much, I think I spent the first trimester in a bit of denial about another baby actually making it's way into our family. Now that I have a bit of a noticeable belly, and people are starting to throw around congratulations and ask about the due date, reality is starting to set in. Holy crap, we are going to have TWO children, at ONE time. This really seemed like a good idea at one point, but the fear is starting to hit me. With Emily, although everyone and their brother told me how much having a baby would "change my life forever", I still really didn't get it until she was here, I brought her home, and oh yes, she really WAS my responsibility. I love her like I never thought I could love another human being, and I wouldn't give her up for the world. But now I KNOW what having a baby is like, and we decided to do it AGAIN??? I guess my problem is that this time, my fears are specific. Can I be candid with you, my family and friends? If so, I will share exactly what it is that is starting to make me a bit nervous about doing this baby thing all over again.

1. I am afraid of having a newborn again. I was lucky enough that I had friends that were completely honest with me about what having a newborn was like. I knew it wouldn't be all sweetness and light, I expected to be miserable some of the time. Still, I watched A Baby Story like it was going out of style when I was pregnant with Emily. Have you seen this show, folks? It tracks a couples story through the last days of pregnancy, through labor and childbirth, and ends with a few scenes a couple of weeks after the happy couple brings their new baby home. These women are smiling. They look well rested. They are wearing makeup and look like they have eaten three square meals a day since their baby has arrived. Try as they might have to prepare me for the reality of having a newborn, I somehow still believed that maybe, just maybe, my experience would be like one of those women on A Baby Story. Yea, right. My Baby Story??? I had breastfeeding issues like you would not believe. I didn't shower for days. I spent weeks in my pajamas, most of them stained with breastmilk. I slept very little. I didn't feel functional enough to leave the house, even for a walk around the neighborhood, for at least a month after my little bundle of joy arrived. Makeup, HAH! I felt like a princess if I could even squeeze in a shower here and there. Three square meals?? I was lucky if I could find the time to chow down on a granola bar between feedings. People will tell you how wonderful it is to have a baby, and yes, there are certainly wonderful things about it. But lets face it folks, there are some things about having a newborn that just plain suck. And I would be completely happy if I could find a way to somehow give birth to a six month old. Via C-section, of course. Which brings me to fear number two...

2. I am afraid of going through childbirth again. Those friends who tried faithfully to prepare me for life-with-newborn also tried to prepare me for what childbirth would be like. Again, enter A Baby Story. Yes these women moaned. Some screamed. Most had an epidural. Almost all of them ended their journey smiling and looking pretty holding their beautiful babies. I thought, women have been doing this for centuries, really, how bad could it be? I was even looking forward to it, in a weird way. I was not expecting two hours, two nurses, two anesthesiologists and eighteen pokes to start an IV. I was not expecting the pain to be as intense as it was. I was not expecting the pushing part to be as highly unpleasant as it was (for any boys reading this, think "watermelon through a toilet paper roll" and you'll have some idea of what this is like). However, first moments with new baby, priceless. Pretty, I was not. Smiling, I've never felt such accomplishment or such happiness and pride until that moment. Was it worth it, definitely. Do I want to do it again? Not particularly, but unless they devise a better way to get babies out in the next six months, I guess I'll be going to. Can I have my epidural now, please?

3. I am afraid of never sleeping again. This fear also dovetails off of fear number one. However, I am not just referring to newborn land, here. I fully expect to be sleep deprived to the extreme for several months. However, we really scored the jackpot with Emily. She always has been, and still is, a champion sleeper. This kid will sleep 12-13 hours a night and take a two hour nap in the afternoon. She rarely wakes up. My fear of never sleeping again is not borne so much from experience as it is from horror-stories from family, friends, complete strangers in the grocery store, etc: it seems everyone knows someone who has a child that "still isn't sleeping through the night" and the child is three. I guess this may be a rational fear to have, and I'll just have to pray that I pop out a kid that is a sleeper like Emily.

4. I'm afraid of having a boy. Please do not mistake this fear for my not wanting to have a boy. On the contrary, I think I would like to have a boy, at some point. But if I may be honest, the thought of having a boy really scares me. I really have very little experience with boys, we simply don't have many in my family. Boys are foreign territory to me. They are rowdy. They wrestle. They have penises. What on the earth would I DO with a boy?? This fear, I suppose, like most fears, is really a fear of the unknown. Calling all moms of boys out there. If we have a boy, anyone volunteering to give me a crash course in Boys 101???

5. I'm afraid of having TWO. This seems pretty obvious. We decided to have another baby, OBVIOUSLY one plus one equals two. But I already know that it is not that simple. It won't be like bringing home another Emily all over again. We already have Emily, and she has needs of her own. We now have to think about how we satisfy the needs of Emily AND juggle the all-consuming demands of a newborn. (Again, WHY did we think this was a good idea??) It seems simple enough if both parents are around, one for each child. But I am already thinking ahead to nights Greg has school, or an estimate, or is stuck late at work. I'm going to have to feed, bathe, and prepare TWO children for bedtime, AND get them to actually go to sleep? And don't even get me started on my fear of random errands...how on earth does one go grocery shopping with two small children?? Only one child fits in the cart. Why, oh why has someone not designed a shopping cart for two?? As with my other fears, I assume this one will just work itself out on it's own, like everything always seems to. This brings me to my last fear (at least those I have been able to identify so far), and it is a big one...

6. I am afraid that I won't like the second one as much. I may be a terrible mother for even thinking this, but honestly, it is a real fear of mine. I know that everyone says that "you will love the new baby just as much, you just will", and I know that I will love him or her. But will I LIKE them as much?? Simply put, Emily is so cool, so easy, so pleasant, so happy, so good natured, so sweet, so smart, so funny, so cute, and so PERFECT (OK, I know some of this is just mom-inspired bias here) that I am just wondering how it will be possible for me to genuinely like another child as much as I like her. I'm going to have to take it on faith here that I will get to know this new little one for the special little human being that he or she is going to be, and that I will love and appreciate him or her for all that they are, and that yes, I really will like him or her as much.

Well guys, that is it. My big Fear List so far. For you moms of more than one (or two or three for that matter), anything to add?? As riddled with apprehension and nervousness as my feelings are regarding this new baby to be, I am also very excited. I look at my beautiful daughter and feel the love I have for her and I know it grows every day as I get to know her more and more for the special person that she is. And now that I've been through it once, I know I will have a great time getting to know this next one. Baby Herron Number Two, we're waiting for you!

The Shoe Gene

It seems that some women just have an inherent sense of style. My friend Heather is one of these women. She ALWAYS looks fabulously put-together, and most of, if not all of, her clothes are brand-name and this season's fashion. She also seems to have the perfect pair of shoes to match every one of her tastefully paired outfits. They are all stylish. Most look terribly uncomfortable. Yet, I am jealous.

I, on the other hand, borderline on the frumpy. I probably have 20 pairs of shoes to my name (Greg would probably argue that I have more, but I just cleaned my closet so I have a pretty good idea of what was in there). Probably only five of these have been purchased in the past three or four years. Three of these five are variations of the exact same shoe, just in different colors to compliment black, brown, or in-between. I own more than this because I am the worst type of pack-rat that can't bear to throw anything away, including my incredibly cheaply made and terribly old shoes that I will most likely never wear again but just have to hang on to in case I am suddenly struck with the desire to wear those plasticy lace-up sandals I purchased at Payless a full decade and a half ago. I have not seemed to inherit "the shoe gene". This is the gene that many women seem to have that allows them to constantly appear as if they have stepped directly out of a clothing catalogue. This same gene directs them to the perfect pair of shoes that tops off each carefully selected outfit. I can appreciate this trait in others, but regretfully for me, it is all about comfort and function.

Try as I might to dress tastefully, I am just not lucky enough to have inherited the shoe gene. However, I am starting to believe that Emily may have. She has developed an appreciation for shoes that I have not yet witnessed in another 16-month old. She loves shoes with an intensity previously reserved only for Greg and her blankie. Literally, twice this week the first words out of her mouth as she was plucked from her crib were "a shoes, a shoes. On, on on!!". She says this frantically while pointing to her closet, and then will not settle down until she is taken to the closet to assess her shoes. She has to pick out her own pair to wear each day, the pair I select for her will simply not do. She even has a favorite pair. They are brown leather Osh Kosh's, Mary-Jane style, with three little flowers stitched onto the toes of each, the center flower topped with a rhinestone. They are by far the least practical pair of shoes that she owns, yet unless I am able to hide them from view before she spies them, they are always the pair that she wants to wear. She then proudly stomps around in her favorite shoes, every once in a while making sure to point them out, just in case I haven't noticed - "shoes!". *Sigh*. I am already seeing dollar signs as I think ahead to the school and teenage years. I have a sneaking suspicion that plasticy lace-up sandals from Payless will not be acceptable for Emily. And inevitably she is going to want to have the perfect pair to compliment each outfit. I can only hope that some of Emily's sense of style will rub off on me eventually. Wishful thinking.

One small step for Emily, one giant leap for Herron-kind

She finally did it. Emily took her first wobbly steps this weekend. I was really starting to believe that maybe, just maybe, our little chatterbox might never learn to walk. I had visions in my head of a five year-old Emily crawling up the school bus steps on her first day of kindergarten. But this momentous first happened for Emily just as everything else has in this short life of hers so far...when she was good and ready for it.

Don't get me wrong, she's not ready for a marathon yet or anything, but she is slowly starting to teeter-totter her way around, four or five steps at a time. Her face lights up, her toothy grin gets wider, and she practically falls over herself the last few steps or so to get wherever she has happened to set her sights on going. Oh my, it's a whole new world for Emily Rose. I hope the world is ready for her.

I've spent the past few months coaxing, begging, and pleading for Emily to walk, and she has stubbornly refused to do so. Now, as she is beginning to really explore this new skill of hers, I see her life flashing before my eyes. Emily getting on the school bus for the first day of school. Bringing home report cards. Bringing home boyfriends. Graduating from high school and then college. Getting married and having children of her own. Is it possible that life really does go by as fast as the last sixteen months have?? I am starting to suspect that the answer is "yes", it really does. Oh, if I could only keep her my precious baby for a little bit longer! I guess I'll just have to sit back and watch her take on the world.

A Baby No Longer

"Don't do it", my mom warned. "You'll be sorry. She won't look like a baby anymore." Deep in my heart, I knew this to be true. But it had to be done.
I'm referring to Emily's first haircut. She somehow went from practically bald at around six months to having spiky hair around nine months to having a long, shaggy 'do around a year. Since then it has just gotten longer and longer, especially around her eyes. At the very end, I think her vision was actually impaired. Aside from the interference with her eyesight, she simply looked unkempt. I was starting to fear that someone might report us to Child Protective Services for letting our daughter walk (or rather, crawl) around like that. So, we decided that, like it or not, it must be done.

Emily decidedly did not like it. After several failed attempts to trim her up a bit myself, we thought better of yet another try with sharp, pointy objects near her face and opted to go to a professional. Hail Great Clips. They will trim up bangs for $5.00. A small price to pay to have the responsibility of actually cutting the hair and not the face on someone else's shoulders. We knew that this trip might be problematic, so I took two of Emily's favorite things with me to assist. Greg and her binky. Still, it did not go well. There was fussing. There was twisting. There was writhing. But, the lady was a professional, she knew how to do things. Just like that, she was in and out, and the bangs were cut. Having survived a bang trimming without any blood or facial appendages severed, we decided to leave well enough alone and call it done.

And then came the moment. As we were paying our $5.oo and preparing to leave, the stylist dug in a big tub of Dum-Dums, pulled one out, and offered it to Emily. My first reaction was, "no, no...she's just a baby, she's too young for that". But Emily reached out her hand and grabbed the Dum-Dum faster than you could say "haircut". She stared at it for a moment. She popped it in her mouth. She removed it and stared at it again. Then she said "...More!" and proceeded to polish off the Dum-Dum (carefully monitored, of course). As I sat and watched my baby eat her lollipop like a big girl, it hit me. She really is a baby no longer. Damn, my mom knew what she was talking about, again.

The Call of the Blog

I am heeding the call to blog. Coming off a weekend of scrapping, it seems yet another great way to blow off some creative steam. It is about eleven o'clock p.m., I just drove over two hours home, I went to bed later last night than I have in a long, long time (2 a.m.!)...and yet I feel strangely energized. Reflecting on this, I have come to understand why.
By day I am a hospice social worker. While this job may be very minimally demanding physically, it is very demanding emotionally, and it is often exhausting. I find myself coming home from a day at work and actually unwinding and relaxing in the hum-drum duties of everyday life-mopping the floors, making lunches, vacuuming furniture, and squeezing in a workout here and there. It is easy to get caught up in the rhythm of these days that slip away, one into another into another, and not realize that there is a need for something else. I had a chance to experience that something else this weekend, and it made me realize that it has been quite a while since I last had the opportunity.
During a weekend in which The Guys got together to play golf, and The Girls hung out and tended boys and babies, The Girls decided that it was high time for them to get together for some good old-fashioned chick time, and the idea for The Scrapping Weekend was born. A date was set, plans were made, and the weekend came to fruition. Food was prepared, scrapping was done, late night-Wendy's runs were had, and brownies and milk were consumed in the wee morning hours. It was at about two a.m. that I realized, I hadn't been to a sleepover in years! And there was a reason that they were so much fun all those years ago. It is because there really is no substitute for some good old-fashioned girl time where you can be completely yourself and not have to try to impress anyone. And some scrapping thrown in doesn't hurt either.
So here I am, coming up on 11:30 p.m., past my bedtime again, and I am still reveling in the afterglow of all the girliness. So, here's to you Amy and Kimberly, I really got something that I desperately needed out of this weekend, and I hope that you guys had as much fun as I did. I'm already gearing up for the next one.



***Special thanks to those who made all of this fun possible...Greg, Jim, and Chris for tending to the boys and babies so we could scrap stress-free, my sister Laura for minding Emily while Greg attended his first class of the semester, and of course AMY for hosting this great event!***