Family photos

I was born into a family of shutterbugs, and I am - unashamedly - a big one myself.  Having a new baby in the family has really not helped our tendencies to snap photos pretty much constantly.  And, of course, since Elvis and I are so proud of our handsome, strapping son, we have a TON of beautiful, posed photos of the three of us.  But my favorite family photos are the ones where everyone's being ... well ... themselves.  For example, a few years ago for Thanksgiving my entire family rented a bed and breakfast for a weekend.  One day was designated as picture day, and we all donned our similar outfits and posed for picture after picture after picture in front of the B&B.  And, even though my entire family is exceedingly good-looking, the pics are all kinda boring.  It's nice to see everyone together, enjoying themselves, but that's not us.  We're just not stiff, smile-for-the-camera folk.  So my 2 favorite pictures of the day are as follows:

This is my mom and her sister.  They've always been a little odd.

and

My parents, brother, and husband all thought it would be funny to tell me to face a different direction for our family photo.  Ha ha, silly Sarah.

So, back to my point.  On Christmas Eve, at my parents' house, Santa Claus himself made a surprise visit to see little Henry, and was nice enough to stick around for some pictures.  We got about a dozen of all the aunts and uncles, cousins, grandparents, etc. but my favorite by far is this one.  As we were all settling into yet another politely smiling photo, I shouted "Everyone pretend you're biting the baby!"  And this hilarious pic was born.  I guess, to be technical, Santa is punching my dad in lieu of biting my son, but I think the point still gets across.  We're not formal or forced, and if we all look a bit ridiculous, well ... have you met us?

Meeting the Big Guy

Oh, Christmas.  It's truly my favorite time of year, and this year the Christmas season has already been so special just with the addition of our little elf.  Decorating the tree and the apartment, baking Christmas cookies, stringing up lights ... it's all so magical, but so far the best part has been when Henry met Santa.



Henry and Santa Claus: BFF



Two weeks ago, my parents' church hosted Breakfast with Santa.  My folks were so excited they insisted that we come down, and so we did.  We dressed Henry in something adorable (it was tough, as all his clothes are pretty adorable) and made the trip, and then stood in line for ... well ... awhile.  Honestly, I was excited about seeing how Henry would react.  I was a bit worried that standing in line for an hour in a mall crowded with other, possibly bad-tempered children might spoil the experience, so I was glad we were able to visit Santa for free.  The line snaked closer and closer, and finally it was our turn.  Elvis plopped Henry down on Santa's lap, and my little angel turned and looked and Santa, and started cooing at him like they were old friends.  It was so cute, and I was super-delighted to hear the woman in line behind me remark, "I've never seen a baby so at-ease with Santa!"  I guess I shouldn't be surprised; I already knew my child was quite the most amazing child ever. 

My Big Baby

Henry had his 6-month checkup yesterday and it was his best yet! He got the go-ahead to start eating some veggies (good times for Mama & Poppa!), Elvis wasn't tempted to punch the nurse (she is such a know-it-all), and my near-constant feedings paid off when it was time to weigh and measure the baby. He weighs almost 19 pounds (nearly tripling his birth weight), and he's 28 inches long. I'm inordinately pleased that he's so giant (in the 91st percentile!). I wanted my boy to be a big, strong, strapping man and was a little surprised when he was born so tiny. So now I guess I can't complain anymore about how Henry can't go more than about 6 minutes without eating, can I? 

An Uncle is Born

I always knew my brother, David, would make a great uncle.  He loves kids and they love him.  So I was really surprised when I announced my pregnancy and he reacted ... not at all.  Throughout the entire 9 months he just seemed unenthusiastic.  People would ask him what he thought about being an uncle, and he would shrug and mumble a few words.  His concern seemed to be mainly for my comfort and safety.  As we were all getting ready for Christmas Eve service last year, he eyed my shoes and asked if I should be walking on heels that high; He'd come to visit and fetch me glass after glass of water; He even quit smoking.  But he still couldn't seem to muster much enthusiasm for the coming nephew.
I went into labor early on the morning of June 6, and David was the first person (aside from Elvis and my mom who were my labor support team) to get to the hospital.  He sat in the delivery room off and on, keeping me company while my support team went out to get a quick lunch.  He excused himself when the real action started, but as soon as Henry was cleaned up and ready for visitors, who should be first in line?  That's right: Uncle David.  One of my favorite pictures from the day is of my daddy holding my tiny, minutes-old son while my brother looks on in wonder.  It's so sweet, 3 of my 4 favorite guys.  But it was also my assurance that David would wear uncle-hood as well as I'd hoped.

For the first few months of Henry's life, Uncle David was around a lot, but was reluctant to hold the baby.  He'd joke about when Henry would start to be fun, and all the adventures they'd have together someday, but he was still very hands-off.  To be fair, Henry was so tiny and fragile-looking that even our fellow new-parent friends were nervous holding him.  As time passed and Henry grew (and gained weight and neck strength), David got more comfortable with his little nephew and a little less worried about breaking him.  I'm delighted to report that now, at 6 months, Uncle David (or Unkie Dave as we call him) is one of Henry's biggest fans.  The first time he asked to hold the baby I was floored, but he entertained my little munchkin like a pro, and now they're BFF.  I've heard him on the phone with his friends, bragging about his smart and adorable nephew, and texting photos of him to the girl he's casually seeing.  He seems to be completely enamored, and has even joined the ranks of "Baby Hogs."  In fact, he almost got in an altercation at Thanksgiving when our grandmother arrived and tried to snatch Henry away from his favorite uncle.
David still loves to come hang out with his favorite little famly on weekends, and he & Elvis usually stay up playing GTA or baseball on the PS3 after I go to bed.  Shortly before Thanksgiving, as I was washing my face and brushing my teeth, I overheard a conversation that made me pink with barely-contained glee: David was telling Elvis how cool it is that Henry's just a little blank slate with unlimited possibilities.  I could hear the awe in his voice as he talked about how proud he'll be when little Henry cures cancer, or becomes the first man to walk on Mars, or wins the World Series someday, and it just made my night.  Obviously I'm enormously proud of my son and I can't wait to see who he turns out to be.  But after his somewhat rocky start to uncle-hood, I'm just pleased as punch that Unkie Dave has jumped so wholeheartedly onto the bandwagon.  Every boy needs a cool uncle, and Henry definitely hit the jackpot!

Peekaboo!

The First Thanksgiving

Ahh, Thanksgiving ... my 2nd favorite holiday of the year.  From the food and family to the football, I just love every second of it.
Elvis and I got married in 2007 and our parents graciously allowed us to host Thanksgiving that year.  The food was - of course - delicious (Elvis is an outstanding chef!), and everyone was a good sport, but honestly the best way to describe the whole affair was "crowded."  Our 1-bedroom apartment just was not designed to accomodate 7 people comfortably.
So, for the next three years we dutifully went back and forth between my parents' house and my in-laws' house for holidays.  Elvis and I are both very close to our families, so even though it was inconvenient and kind of expensive we'd spend Thanksgiving Eve and Christmas Eve with his folks, and then get up early the next morning to make the trip to my parents'. 
Last year when I announced my pregnancy, I also announced that we would be hosting Thanksgiving and Christmas again this year.  No ifs, ands or buts.  No way were we going to subject our baby to all those trips.  As much as we love having 2 days to celebrate our 2 favorite holidays, it was just time for a change.  So, back in September (that's right!  I plan ahead!) I began drawing up plans for how to arrange furniture.  I took "inventory" of all our cookware, serving pieces, and fall decor.  No way was Henry's first Thanksgiving going to be remembered as "the year we had to eat in shifts" or some stupid thing.  Nope.  I rounded up 7 seats and arranged them thoughtfully in the living room.  I thanked God that I had 8 place settings, which meant that we could all eat off our beautiful wedding china.  And then the call came: my grandparents (who ALWAYS go to Houston to spend the holidays with my favorite aunt and her family) will be in town this year, and have no plans.  Aunt Bunny is renovating her kitchen, so there'll be no elaborate Thanksgiving feast this year.  So, it was back to the drawing board.  Now I have to find room for 2 more seats around the table, and - worst of all - I'm ONE place setting short. 
So, even though we may indeed have to eat in shifts, we'll all be together, warm and cozy in our home.  We'll all eat a delicious meal, enjoy some good football, some of us will doze comfortably after eating too much, and - most importantly - Henry will spend his first Thanksgiving surrounded by the 9 people who love him most in all the world.  If that's not something to be thankful for, I just don't know what is.

Happy Halloween!

Halloween 2011 was, as you may imagine, a pretty big deal at our house.  As far as holidays go, Halloween has always been pretty low on my list of favorites.  I prefer the ones that include pie and extended family.  But I do like dressing up, and I LOVE babies in costume.  So it was with great excitement that we began to discuss our child's first Halloween costume some weeks ago.  I'd seen some sickeningly cute costumes, and was hoping to talk Elvis into letting me buy one.  I was partial to the octopus costume I saw online.  How cute is that?  But then my amazing hubby came up with something even better.  In the grand tradition of both our families, Henry's costume would be home-made, and would put all the other babies' costumes to shame.  The weekend before, we went out to buy the pieces and put it all together.  After the hot glue dried we put the baby in his costume, and thus began the laughter.  I hope when he's older, he appreciates the creativity and isn't weirded out: for his first Halloween, my beloved son was a 2-headed baby.

At the last minute, Elvis and I decided to dress up as well, and so the four of us (King Henry VIII, Jane Seymour, Hank and "Hazel") piled into the truck to go out.  We didn't go door-to-door for candy, but we did walk up and down San Antonio Street to show off our little monster.  Sadly, our costumes seemed to outshine Henry's, or maybe people just couldn't see his 2nd head.  Either way, it was a bit anticlimactic.  I was hoping to get some hilarious reactions when people saw our little mutant, but he really only got one: one lady reacted, thinking he was a doll (he IS ridiculously cute, I admit).  The important thing, though, is that Elvis and I had fun, and we made some precious memories to cherish forever.  And hey, there's always next year!

Remember me?

PLEASE excuse my excessive absence.  I've just started a new job (it's part-time, but I've been working a lot lately to make sure I know what I'm doing) and our internet has been spotty at best these past few weeks.  Calling customer service isn't helpful, but going down to the Time Warner building magically did the trick.  Let that be a lesson to you: when they transfer your call to 5 different customer service reps, it's time to hang up and get things done in person!

Our First Night

One of my favorite parts of pregnancy was setting up Henry’s nursery. We picked out a theme (sea creatures), painted (blue, of course), built furniture, and had my grandfather repair and restore the cradle I slept in when I was a baby. My beautiful and talented friend Kellie lovingly painted an alphabet to teach him his letters AND animals. We put up shelves and filled them with books and toys, and spent hours getting the curtains hung up straight. It is, if I may say so, an absolutely gorgeous bedroom for an absolutely gorgeous boy. And he has spent roughly 15 minutes sleeping in it. Having read that months 1 and 4 are the highest risk for SIDS, I was just afraid to let Henry sleep in his own room. It comforted me to wake up and hear his breath and his little sleep coos, knowing he was fine.

All that changed last night, though. Since Bubba-zubs (that child has more nicknames than he’ll ever know what to do with!) has passed that 4-month milestone, we decided it was time for him to inhabit that beautiful room we made for him.  He ate a huge dinner, surprised himself with a giant burp, and drifted off to sleep as usual. Elvis put him down in his crib, turned on the monitor, and closed the door. He slept quietly for about 10 minutes, and then began fussing. His fussing quickly turned to all-out shrieks, which was pretty frustrating. Typically, Henry is a very calm and content baby and only cries when he’s hungry (even then, he gives great hunger cues). So his serious wails were pretty heart-wrenching. We went in and I picked him up to nurse him back to sleep. Elvis read him another bedtime story, and oh-so-slowly he drifted back off to sleep. I very slowly laid him down in his crib, kissed his beautiful forehead and wished him sweet dreams, and held my breath. He was out like a light that time.

I was worried I wouldn’t be able to sleep without the gentle white noise he’s provided these past 4 months, but I too was out like a light. I slept through the night, and when I woke up this morning, the hardest night of my motherhood (so far) was over! We made it! And it can only get easier from here … right?

How Do I Love Thee ... ?

All the books and knowing mothers in the world didn’t prepare me for the overwhelming, all-consuming love I feel for this squirmy, adorable little man I birthed 4 months ago. I never wanted to be a mom when I was growing up, in part because I just never really liked kids. To tell the truth, I still don’t. Children are fine on a case-by-case basis, one at a time. But I was never the girl who got all googly-eyed at the prospect of a houseful of kids. Then Henry was born, and all my non-maternal instincts flew right out the window.

I, who cherish sleep like some women cherish chocolate, cheerfully hop out of bed before sunrise every morning to feed and comfort the newest love of my life. I, who am so uncomfortable with "bodily unpleasantries" that Elvis never even heard me pee until after we were married, have been messed on now more times than I can count. I’ve cleaned Henry’s bodily waste off of clothes, bedding, furniture, my own hair & skin, and – once – the wall (the kid has great aim. I’m so proud). I, who am completely skeeved out by feet, worship and kiss the pudgy little toes of my child, loving each precious piggy individually with an intensity I couldn’t have imagined even 6 months ago.

I never thought I could love another person so wholeheartedly, so unreservedly. I always want to be next to him, enjoying his smile, inhaling his sweet baby smells, and kissing his perfect upturned nose. I wake up in the night, wishing it were permissible to wake him up and hold him, just to see that toothless grin spread across his face at me and feel his sleepy body curl against mine.

He changed my life completely in a single moment, simply by being. Talk about a miracle!

A Birthday Miracle

This, really, has nothing whatsoever to do with motherhood, but it’s a good heartwarming story and I’m going to share it anyway.

My husband’s first love in life was baseball, and I’m glad to say they’ve still got a healthy relationship in spite of the steroid years and the Giants’ fluke World Series win last fall. So each year, his parents get us 2 tickets to go see the Philadelphia Phillies (his beloved team since childhood) play the Houston Astros, which are the closest NL team to us. This year we decided to go to a day game on a Wednesday afternoon. Elvis took a day off work, and we packed up the baby and all his supplies (my favorite aunt lives about 30 minutes from Minute Maid Park and was just dying to babysit), and hoofed it over to H-town. We’d just gotten to the park and were making our way inside when I reminded E that our tickets were in his glove. I guess "reminded" is the wrong word, since he swears I didn’t mention it. Needless to say, in the 40 or so yards we’d walked between exiting from the car and stopping to take a picture in front of a giant Sun Drop mural, the tickets were simply gone. We panicked for a few minutes, and then decided to go to the Will-Call office. My MIL had paid for the tickets on her credit card, so maybe – just maybe – they would see we hadn’t made it up and would let us in anyway. After all, the park was empty. We don’t call ‘em the Lastros for nothin’. Before we could even get to Will-Call, though, we had a run-in with fate.

Two older gentlemen who had obviously overheard our plight had 2 tickets that they were just going to give us. We were, of course, suspicious off the bat. Why on earth would anyone give away two perfectly good tickets to a baseball game? Especially to Elvis and myself, who were sporting Phillies tshirts and hats. It turns out they were company seats (read: free) and neither of the mens’ wives had wanted to go to the game. The seats were in the 23^rd row behind the home team dugout, which basically means they were … FANTASTIC seats. These gents were just going to enjoy the extra leg room, but instead they absolutely made my husband’s birthday. No catch, no strings. The guy wouldn’t even let Elvis buy him a beer to thank him for saving the day. He just wanted to talk some baseball with someone who knew something about the subject, and boy did he pick the right guy! Elvis reads baseball statistics books for fun during the summer. He can tell you with no hesitation who pitched in any World Series game in history, how many innings, and what the final score was. I mean, he really LOVES baseball.

The Phillies ended up beating the Astros 1-0 that day (we got to see Roy Halladay pitch his first complete game shutout of the season!), but the greatest part was the kindness of 2 strangers. It warmed my heart and made me so thankful that I will be raising my son in a world where people still go out of their way to take care of one another. What a wonderful birthday gift.