All her peeps.

As the "the month of sick" becomes an increasingly distant memory...we find ourselves socializing at long last. A few pictures of Rhea and her minions.

It's a beautiful life...

It is Saturday evening and we have just gotten our exhausted and sun kissed girl down for the night. The few hours before my own bedtime stretch out before me...full of the promise of the ability to do whatever I feel like. I have that satisfied feeling of knowing my girl is snug in bed and I will have a little bit of quiet downtime...however I always seem to find myself spending this "quiet time" missing my boisterous girl, thinking back on all the cute things she did throughout the day, and sifting through her pictures or trying to write an entry here. Ironic isn't it.

Tonight all of that "quiet time" spent missing the "not so quiet time" led me back to reflecting on what a full and wonderful week we had together.

We began our week at a baby shower for Annees and Ashi which was hosted by the very talented Ken and Naomi. Those two really know how to throw a family friendly bash and by the time we left we were filled with good eats (including a bagful of treats to take home with us), good stories, fond memories of the days of old and the realization that as fun as those old days were..nothing really compares to the perfection of the here and now.

Early in the week Rhea and I spent some quality time with Shannon and her little girl Havana. Those days with Shannon were good for both of us...good adult company for me and lots of power walking to help soothe little Havana's difficult gut. Shannon is inspiring in her mothering...level headed and compassionate while managing a little baby that needs so much soothing. I'm glad Havana found her way to Shannon who has the ability to remain steady as a rock while maintaining a sense of humor about it all. She knows these challenging times will pass and that her little girl is going to come out on the other side of all these growing pains one tough cookie.

Midweek Rhea and I spent with each other...playing with her toys, taking walks through the neighborhood, and lots of tackling of the cats. During Rhea's naps I tried to slowly chip away at the housecleaning. It is challenging to try to manage an increasingly mobile baby, her need to be by my side most always (finally hit a bit of that separation anxiety), and the never ending chores that seem to multiply inexplicably. I honestly cannot figure out how two adults and one small child can generate so much mess. Mind boggling. That said by Thursday night the house was straightened the carpets vacuumed and the kitchen cleaned and I felt as if all was right with the world.

Yesterday Rhea and I hosted a "playdate" with Monica and her little baby Maslen and Shannon and Havana. It was a dreary rainy day and the flat felt cozy and warm filled with babies, tea and homemade goodies brought by Monica. We spent most of the day together and the babies took turns eating sleeping and playing. Rhea loves babies...and she pretty much wanted to express that sentiment with as much excitement as she does with the cats. Needless to say I was extremely diligent with the monitoring and Rhea (much to her frustration) was given countless tutorials on what it actually means to be soft and gentle. She looks like such a big girl in this picture...she was so smitten with Maslen (and he with her).

And today...we spent a relaxing day at Catherine's soaking in both the sun and the tangible amount of love Catherine has for all of us. John, Hai Nhu and Evelyn met us there and we were joined by another family a little later in the day. Rhea, true to form, was the first one in the pool and stayed in there until I started to get concerned that her skin would wrinkle right off. She is like a little polar bear cub...loving the cold water and fearless in her pursuit of fun.

I am signing off basking in the feeling of absolute contentment. It truly is a beautiful life.

Lest you think I was kidding...

I have a funny little video here highlighting some of Rhea's hijinks this morning. I love this clip...some wild monkey flapping punctuated with contemplative examination of her doll's moving eyelids. It gets a little slow at the end as the doll eyes prove too tantalizing to ignore...I know you die hard Rhea fans will persevere.

I realized that I have been taking quite a few videos lately...this is in part a testament to how difficult it is to get a good picture of her because she is ALWAYS in some kind of motion. All that movement just translates better in video. Believe you me I have countless blurry, eyes half open (or closed), mouth contorted in mid squeal, non-post worthy photos just taking up memory space on the computer. Video also helps capture the nuances of who she is right now...the laughing, squealing and excitement at all things new (and of course the wild monkey flapping and eye poking).

Mount Greyshag

Here is a quick clip of Rhea climbing the stairs the day after she figured out she could. I spent her first nap obsessively vacuuming the stairs...not a vertigo friendly endeavor to say the least but a job that needed to be done. The video is a little dark because it was late in the day...but you all should get the drift.

Cruisin and a'bruisin

Well my goodness...another eventful week here in the land of "lets catch every virus and realize every possible symptom of that virus, however random and atypical". We could also call this the land of just minding our own business and getting a little too cocky about "feeling better" after our month of ailments.

Last week I came down with a sudden and very extreme case of VERTIGO (do yourselves a favor and just read the first paragraph of that hyperlink or you are in danger of thinking I might be suffering from any number of deadly disorders). It was disorienting, scary, and ridiculously unpleasant...sparing the nauseating details, I will cautiously report (knowing full well I could be tempting fate here...) that I am almost back to 100% feeling fine. But I am going to keep this posting relatively short as prolonged typing makes me feel just a bit wonky.

Vertigo be damned it just had to be recorded for prosperity that our girl has been moving and growing in leaps and bounds over this past week. And I mean that literally...there has been leaping, bounding, and all manner of climbing, balancing, teetering, tottering, barreling, steamrolling, falling, bruising, scraping and bonking. This girl is ON FIRE!

I am as amazed at her skills as I am at her single minded determination. Just this past week she has perfected climbing over any number of items..including pillows I strategically place in her way in a meager attempt to slow her down. She can climb stairs like a pro...figured that out yesterday as she successfully scaled Shannon's very steep wooden stairs in pursuit of a cat. And will not take no for an answer...even if the no is coming from her own fingers and limbs. She desperately wants her body to catch up to her minds desire for movement. This makes for all kinds of grumbling, complaining and downright screeching when the frustration of it all just becomes to much.

That said...there have also been unforgettable moments of success in which she pushes herself right up to her baby limits and just a little bit beyond.

Passing the torch...

So as you might imagine, given my lengthy post about Rhea's various sicknesses, worry over said sicknesses, and the amount of sleep lost while trying to help her cope with feeling like a human petri dish...that when my Mom called today and said "Hi honey how are things?" and I said "Oh..things are ok" she saw right through me.

My mom has always had this knack...knowing something was going on for me even if sometimes I didn't even know it myself...just hearing my Mom's voice can bring whatever I am struggling with right to the surface. She just knew, from the slight change in tone in my voice, that the ok I was giving her (which had I uttered to almost anyone else, would have been absolute assurance that I was indeed ok) wasn't really an ok. The next sentence out of her mouth being..."How are you really doing...that didn't sound ok".

How does she do this? What is it about my Mom that gives her the ability to see me the way I need to be seen?

Well first of all, my Mother is honestly an extraordinary woman. The things I like the best about myself I know I've learned from her...such as a sense of empathy, a willingness to step in and help others, and the ability to authentically connect with the people I love. My Mom is the person you want on your side...always.

Secondly...she is my Mother. She too spent countless hours worrying while I was sick, hours awake at night if I wasn't sleeping, she wondered and tried and sometimes felt like she did the best thing and sometimes worried that she could have done better. She went through the same learning curve of a becoming a parent, had the same desire to pour everything she had into trying to assure that I had what I needed and then some. She felt the same pulled heart strings when I was scared or feeling badly, and knew from a glance at me if something was not quite right.

Sometimes I feel like this new parent thing is overwhelming on so many levels...figuring out your new life, your new relationship with your partner, your new ability to love something so fiercely that it sometimes scares the bejesus out of you. Everything feels new and can seem somewhat ominous...the responsibility of it weighing so heavily. It's easy to forget that all of these experiences, as earth shatteringly singular and specific to your situation as they feel in the moment, have been negotiated, for better or worse, by many before you. And perhaps most importantly, by your own parents...I feel as though I'm finally getting what it means to be a daughter in a way that I would had never known if I hadn't become a mother.

I have always considered myself lucky to know that I was wanted and loved very deeply by my parents. I never had any doubts about that...but I can honestly say that until I became a parent myself, I didn't really know how deep of a love that really was. It's finally dawning on me that the love I feel for my girl...that is how much love my mother has for me. It's funny to think of it in terms of my Mom loving me as much as I love Rhea. Because that really is an awful lot of love. Kind of puts a whole new spin on all the teenage angst and growing pains we went through together. Then there is the reality that I'm only nine months into the mothering thing...my Mom has been at it for thirty some odd years.

Our conversation was exactly what I needed. My mom listened to me, validated what I was feeling, and knew what to say to make things seem right. We talked about mothering and what that meant in terms of keeping a family close and happy, we talked about my doubts and my fears, my body's reaction to several sleepless nights and my resulting emotional tiredness. By the end of the conversation I felt so much lighter and in control. I knew that my experiences were valid and I wasn't crazy...I knew that the road forward had been paved for me by many, many women who have felt similar feelings and faced similar challenges.

My mother...she is still mothering me so many years later. All the blood sweat and tears (and of course love, light and laughter) of our years together paying off in the most wonderful of ways. I only hope that I can be for Rhea what my mother is for me. Then I will know that I have done my job right.

Mush Mush!

Saturday afternoon with the girls. Prepare to feast your eyes on levels of cuteness as never before seen.

Spotty girl

Well I started this post way back on Tuesday fresh off the heels of our latest Pediatrician appointment. I will leave it as it is with a bit of an update at the end...

Tuesday...It has been a trying couple of weeks...I have been doing my best to keep my spirits in check, but after our third trip to the pediatrician to assess Rhea's ongoing mystery spots...I'm feeling a bit discouraged.

Rhea's killer cold turned into a chronic runny nose which morphed into a runny nose with suspiciously chicken pox-esque spots. Her runny nose finally cleared up yesterday (after three weeks mind you) but was replaced in the middle of the night by a pretty good fever. Hence the trip back to the doctor's today. Rhea was not impressed by all the opening and closing of her mouth...the swabbing...the poking into her ears...and the homeopathic tincture squirted at her after she was finally calming down from all the aforementioned doctoring.

I could literally feel my heart starting to crack and my very rehearsed and deliberate "calm Mama act" was beginning to fray. I thought I was going to start crying myself and was pretty sure that our pediatrician wasn't really getting it...that Rhea was never this upset...she must have something super duper wrong with her. Our doctor, perhaps reading my not so subtle signs of impending meltdown, did take that moment to assure us that while her symptoms were puzzling and difficult to identify the root of, that our baby, while clearly sick and feeling terrible, was not was not a "dangerously ill child". Hmph. Says who? (I know...I know...says the DOCTOR)

They diagnosed a very intense sore throat (red enough to check for strep which was negative)...and the spots? Well lord knows...could be an extra persistent and atypical case of hand foot and mouth, or just Rhea's little body doing it's best to clear her system of a virus.

I swear I had a little PTSD moment when our Doctor pulled out the swab for the strep test. I spent a good amount of time dealing with strep in my youth so I know exactly what that swap feels like...looking all deceptively soft with the cotton end but feeling like a hot poker on your throat. Poor little girl...is it possible to somehow pass on a predisposition to sore throats? Great...wacky teeth and more than her fair share of sore throats...that will be my legacy for the girl.

Ok...all drama aside, I now realize that the only thing worse than being sick yourself...is not being able to immediately take away the sick of your child.

Friday...

Well the girl does seem to be on the mend...her fever went away by Wednesday and though we had several very sleepless nights, last night was much better. I can't tell what her throat is doing but she seems much more herself. I will leave you all with photographic proof of her recovery.

Here she is early in the week...all crazy haired and looking logy.


And here she is as of yesterday...sporting her "I'm not doing anything I'm not supposed to" look when she hears me say "Rhea...what are you doing???"

She has got a fair amount of her Papa in her that's for sure...need something to even out those wacky teeth and sore throats.

Nine months...

Dear Rhea Sue,

Well my girl...you turned nine months old today. Each and every month (week, day, minute) a wonder to your Mama and Papa. Nine months seemed like a lifetime when I was pregnant with you...I had a countdown calendar and found myself obsessively reading websites outlining what the week had most likely brought in your development. I logged countless hours at work learning about your developing toenails and eyelashes. I remember one website informing me that you were, at that particular point, "the size of a peach" which at the time seemed quite substantial and you became that much more "real" to me (I remember sticking my head into my coworkers office to inform her of that fact...luckily I worked with other therapists and she was appropriately interested and validating of my excitement at your new peach like qualities). It's funny to think that you could now not only hold a peach in your own hands, but do a pretty good job of gumming it down to the pit..."real" takes on whole new meaning.

Before I recap the past month I need to take a few moments to acknowledge that lovely month 8 passed by without your letter. July was a bit of a whirlwind month as we had a visitor staying from Australia, we were camera-less for almost two weeks (you wouldn't think that would make a difference but it obviously did) and that miserable flu really knocked me off of my feet. All those excuses made, it is now time to rewind a bit...

July, for all it's lack of actual blog space was, in retrospect, a big month for us. You became increasingly more interactive and mobile and if at all possible even more cute and endearing.

You started to crawl, bypassing the commando crawl so popular with most babies, moving directly into a picture perfect strong armed crawl. You were motivated most by Stashu and the many blocks we were always setting up just outside of your reach in an effort to entice you to move forward (Stashu, bless his heart, has still not gotten the concept of remaining just out of reach...so you are always rewarded with a satisfying Siamese vocalization of irritation when you manage to get yourself wherever he is). You also began to show amazing balance (far beyond your months in our opinion) holding yourself up on any available object. You were well rooted and found your "legs" so early on. None of that wobbly kneed rubber legged stuff for our girl.

As I previously mentioned, we both suffered from a god awful flu. And even in your fever induced misery you soldiered on and approached the flu with more good natured resignation than I was able to muster when it hit me the next week. I couldn't believe that with a fever of 103 you were still trying to knock down blocks and chase the cats, although with admittedly more nursing breaks to fortify you. When I got the same flu, I was unable to even crawl out of bed and your Papa had to call in sick from work so that he could take care of us.

The increased mobility and awareness I spoke of in your 7th month letter advanced at warp speed. The few pictures I managed to capture of you were often blurry or showed your hand reaching for the camera or the top of your head as you came crawling over to where I was. Whatever cute endearing thing I had been inspired to try and capture for posterity you abandoned in your quest for my camera.

Cute and endearing things such as your ability to move quickly from lying on your stomach to sitting up, your first real bruise (though that is imprinted in my memory and on my heart so no need for photographic proof), your ever growing head of luxurious locks, your increasing ability to really "play" on your own and interact with us. And before I knew it the month was behind us and your journey from baby to toddler that much further along.

Eight months...

We flew back east to visit your Grammy and Grandpa and the rest of your east coast family on your eighth month birthday. You proved to be a very pleasant traveling companion and for a woman who historically relished the opportunity to stick in some ear plugs and read through two books on a cross country flight...I found myself connecting to other passengers and interacting with our airborne community in a whole new way. You were a mini celebrity and won many a heart during that six hour journey. The flight actually sped by and before I knew it we were on the ground.

At your Grammy and Grandpa's you amazed us all with your increasing physical skill. You crawled around at lightening speed and soon all of the shoes, dog toys, and various other items best left out of your mouth needed to be moved to higher ground. You started to entertain yourself more and more and would spend all kinds of time out on the sun porch trading toys with Henry.

You pulled yourself up on anything that would even halfway support your weight and Grandpa took to crawling around the living room with you so he could see things on your level. You learned to copy your Grammy and Grandpa when they threw their hands over their heads in excitement and sat with us during supper in your high chair playing with measuring spoons and a small butter pot. For someone still uninterested in solid food you spent quite a bit of time trying to put all manner of things inedible in your mouth. This is something you got even better at as the month wore on. Just this morning I managed to catch you right before you ate the cat food you had shoved in your mouth as soon as you noticed me noticing you had it.

It seems you have figured out that you can make me laugh...and when you do I am rewarded with you laughing right along with me. It is one of the sweetest memories I have of this month. You laughing at me laughing at you. It's different than your earlier laughter which I think was inspired by you thinking I looked or sounded funny...now it's like you get it...that I am laughing because you are funny and nothing is funnier than knowing you are funny. You also have shown your persistent and strong willed nature. Making it clear when you want something and making your displeasure abundantly clear if you are thwarted in your attempts. (You just know your Grammy is somewhere feeling so pleased with herself for somehow altering the fabric of the universe through all her wishing that I would someday have a daughter with a fraction of my own bullheadedness. I think of her every time I change your diaper...a seemingly benign act that can irritate you to your very core. Seems it took two people to change my diaper when I was your age). Your strong will and determination have been serving you well though, and I am amazed at your growth and progress each and every day.

But perhaps the sweetest of all changes has been your mamamamamamama-ing turning into a more distinct ah-MAMA-ah. Especially when you need me. I know enough to know to relish these days...the days when no matter what is wrong with your world you turn to me to make it right again. Though it is a giant responsibility and one that I can't always figure out as well as I wish to, I know these days are numbered and so very precious.


I love you Sweet Pea,

Mama