Butter . . . Duh

Isn't she adorable? AJ loves the Christmas tree. I have to say, though, I was right; we have not gotten another full night's sleep since Abby accomplished that a few nights ago. And lately, her evenings are characterized by fussiness, alternating comatose sleep (with weird, exorcist-baby eyes rolling up in her head) with inconsolable screaming and peaceful, eyes-open near-smiling. Right now I am so tired that I could go to bed immediately. I suspect, however, that my daughter is going to be up again in 40 minutes or so for more eating. (It's 8 p.m. right now.) After that I can go to bed. Dave would spell me while I went upstairs right now, but he is out for his annual steakhouse dinner with the guys. So it's just me and the girl right now. I'll make up some more bottles, then feed her one, and then strap on the Bjorn and take her upstairs. I hope that tonight I avoid the horrible nightmares I've been having lately.

Has anyone noticed that there are now more commercials for video games than for movies? My friend Brett, the video-game developer, probably finds that gratifying at least to the extent that his business is booming. Or, perhaps this is a skewed view I have because I watch Tivo'd reruns of Star Trek that're on in the middle of the night. I also see a lot of promos for "Girls Gone Wild" and such.

I'm reading A Year of Roses, which was a Christmas gift from D. I love it. I've decided I want to try to grow roses, and this book is a classic, that breaks down rose growing into months, explaining what you need to do in each month. I have since found out that it's tough to grow roses in Maryland because of our long, hot, humid summers, and our frequent freeze/thaw cycles with little snow in the winter. I'm sure I'll do great, considering I have exactly 3 houseplants that haven't died and that really has nothing to do with me, as opposed to D. Anyway, the book is well-written and interesting, with old-fashioned hand-drawn botanical illustrations.

Product review: Williams-Sonoma does these wonderful frozen croissants and pains au chocolat . . . you just put them out overnight to rise and bake them in the morning. They are decadent and fabulous. I'm going to put a plain croissant out right now. Then I just microwave some milk (approximating steaming, when I'm too lazy to turn on the espresso machine) and add decaf coffee for a faux cafe au lait. For some reason, Starbuck's (those that still serve them) have started calling plain croissants "butter croissants." Isn't that like calling a Hershey bar a "chocolate Hershey bar"? A bit redundant? Are consumers really this unworldly?

I could be grouchy because I'm so tired. Maybe I'll go have one of the pizzelles D made, to try to wake up.

I miss my blogging buddies. Come home soon!

Richard Curtis

I love Richard Curtis. I don't care that it's the same jokes, the same dialogue, the same actors all the time. Blackadder, Four Weddings, The Vicar of Dibley, Bridget Jones, even The Edge of Reason and Love Actually. I love him. Supposedly his next project is the No. 1 Ladies Detective Agency, which seems like a bit of a stretch, but then I haven't read the novel -- is it full of impossibly eloquent, though idiomatic British characters? One of my favorite Richard Curtis bits of all time: Hugh Laurie as an idiot George III in Blackadder, trying to pronounce the word "antidisestablishmentarianism," and going through many versions before setttling on "antidistinctlyminty." And possibly my favorite of his jokes: "A woman's doorbell rings. She's just got out of the shower, and is half-naked, so she shouts, 'Who's there?' The person says, 'A blind man' -- so she decides to let him in. 'Nice tits,' he says; 'now where d'you want the blinds hung?" Well done, you.

I Forgot

1. Does anyone have a good Bloody Mary recipe?

2. I read a user-question on some baby site that said, "is it okay that I dress my baby in pajamas all day?" I scoff. (It is okay, right?)

3. Has anyone used www.sittercity.com or any other central repository to find a part-time babysitter? I'm thinking of someone to come over when I go to physical therapy, or when D and I want to go see "Atonement," which I'm sure will happen.

4. I heard a GREAT idea for a babysitting co-op the other day. More on that later; it's not worth wasting sleeping-baby time to tell you about it. Cheers.

A Snapshot

S, our 6 year old, lately is full of conversation. I mean, she always was, but now she has no interest whatsoever in not talking. She also composes stories (or maybe she's recalling them from books) and regales us with them, through all manner of disruptions. I feel pretty sure that if the house were burning down but she was in the middle of a story, she would keep talking over the sounds of crashing timbers and crackling upholstery. She is also absolutely beautiful. Her hair is so long -- she professes an intention to let it grow to her feet, which always makes me think of Crystal Gayle, who probably only washed her hair once a week and with the help of four people. I hope her mother (S's, not Crystal's) doesn't let it get that far. S also loves lengthy and somewhat tedious guessing games. Tedious because they're like this: she says, "I am thinking of a type of leaf. Can you guess what it is?" She also needs a lesson in tact, but I for one am not sure how or whether to give it to her. Examples: "this light show is more boring than last year" or "I don't even like these books [which she forgot that I had given her] anyway." Obviously that's not right -- but what do I do? In the latter case, I said, "Well, I wish you had said that in a different way, because I bought those books for you and it makes me feel bad to know that you don't like them." I probably blew it.

S's new boyfriend is Mitchell. I am surprised by how matter-of-fact she is about having a boyfriend. No blushing or giggling . . . in her mind, obviously everybody knows that each 6 year old girl either does or should have a boyfriend. So in that she's probably right on target with popular opinion among 6 year olds (similar to 36 year olds). This makes me think of the scene in "Love, Actually" where the little boy finally tells Liam Neeson that his big crisis is "the total agony of being in love", and when Liam says, "what does she -- he -- feel about you?" Are there 6 year old girls with girlfriends? Boys with boyfriends? I wonder; I keep reading that modern teenagers, for example, are so much more bi-curious and "bi-active" than we were, although they just kind of don't identify themselves with a sexual preference. It's a free for all, I guess. [How did I get on that topic? No wonder my mother-in-law is distressed by my blog.] I had a "boyfriend" in first grade, come to think of it. That meant we kissed once and that we had an especially good time playing together. So maybe things haven't changed that much. One thing I've noticed: S knows everything about Mitchell's preferences. His favorite food, day of the week, color, probably his favorite type of leaf. I am not sure whether I think that skill of deciphering boys will serve her well in the future, or if I should be teaching her to care less what they think and to spend more time deciding what she thinks. I think I just answered my own question.

Our 4 year old boy, R, is changing even faster. He is so articulate, even when he doesn't know the right words. He knows all the nursery-rhyme songs and will sing them with gusto (and repeatedly) when prompted. He still loves to shake his naked butt before bathtime while singing "Shake Your Booty," and he laughs deep in his belly. He is passionately in love with television. The other day, I also heard him wandering around humming the leitmotif for the Empire from the Star Wars movies (no, we didn't let him watch them, but I guess mom did). His hair is ever-so-slightly darkening. Because he looks exactly like D did at that age, we're pretty sure that eventually -- by high school, say -- he will have his dad's black hair instead of the red/gold/platinum he has had til now. R is also incredibly sweet to Abby. He kisses her head so gently, and he shows real wonder and joy when she does things like grasp his finger in her tiny fist. I think they're going to be real buddies. R is also very much a boy -- a rambunctious child bursting with energy who runs pell-mell around the house and often shows affection with head butts. It doesn't help that he realizes he looks just like Dash from The Incredibles. We need a movie or kids' show about some sedentary boy to come along and enrapture him.

Abby, meanwhile, is 8 1/2 pounds now, and -- hold your breath -- she actually slept through the night last night. I was so shocked when she woke me and I saw that the clock read 4:54 that I woke D up just to tell him. Typically, of course, I was worried there was something horribly wrong, while D was going, "Oh, good girl!!!!" She is gaining plenty of weight and getting plenty of formula, so I know she's fine. More than fine. I'm sure we won't get another night like that for a while, but she does seem to be an expert sleeper (like her mama). She has started sticking out her tongue, possibly because we stick ours out at her, and she is very interested in looking at our faces, although she does look away, too. I've read that when babies look away, you should let them. Never move to reestablish yourself in their field of vision, because they're looking away to avoid overstimulation. I am very sympathetic to the desire to avoid overstimulation. Unfortunately, Abby Jane has also lately waited until her diaper is off to pee, which is kind of not the point. I have washed a LOT of clothes in a LOT of Dreft.

For some reason, the cat has taken periodically to peeing on our shower mat, speaking of peeing. He seems okay with the baby, but maybe this is his way of demonstrating annoyance at the relative drop in attention from me. All I know is that if he pees on our wedding photos again, I won't be able to stop D from killing him. The dog, Bailey, has developed a very protective streak for Abby, having apparently realized that she's a little person. If the baby is crying and I'm not responding, say because I'm in the kitchen trying to heat up her bottle, the dog will come find me, as if to say, "But Anne, you need to help the baby -- she's distressed." Or maybe she's saying, "Can you not hear that?? What's wrong with you? Make it stop!"

Finally, D and I are tired, but I think we're doing okay. (I wonder if he agrees? Maybe I should ask him.) Sometimes his experiences with S and R, and the calm assurance that comes from them, is extremely reassuring, but when I'm less charitable, it can be annoying. Of course, it doesn't come close to the level of annoyance I provide for him. Luckily, neither of us seems to respond to sleep deprivation with overt irritability -- most of the time -- so we're doing pretty well. We are even hosting a little bit on Christmas.

My physical symptoms haven't gone away. I am not using the walker very much, but more because it's inconvenient than because I'm not wobbly. [I must say, it's also inconvenient not to have the walker, though. I had sort of used it as a moving end table; carrying the phone handset, the TV remote, my cup of tea, whatever . . . .] I carry Abigail on the stairs in the Baby Bjorn each morning because that way I can use both hands to steady myself and move slowly. Around the house, between the beds and cradles and couches and Pack N Plays, we do okay. I don't think I could descend the stairs with her in one arm. I can't hold her with only one arm that long. I keep watching for improvements, but I think it's going to be impossible until (a) my c-section stops hurting completely, (b) my back stops hurting and (c) I can get back to physical therapy and get my muscles going again. This is supposed to be allowed after my 6-week appt with the ob-gyn. I am optimistic. Much of what I feel now seems to be related to fatigue, atrophy, and muscle spasms/tightness, rather than neurological deficits. We'll see if the doctors agree in the beginning of February, when I do the rounds at Hopkins again. Happily, right now I only weigh 5 pounds more than I did before I got pregnant, but unhappily, I was already about 15 pounds overweight before I got pregnant and I also have absolutely no muscle tone left (which, of course, weighs more).

The baby is sleeping. What the heck am I doing blogging? I should be taking the opportunity to eat something, or at least wrap some presents. Why don't you do that, too -- go eat something, or wrap a present for someone?

Coming Into Being

This is the first time since I became a Christian in 1994 that I did not notice the beginning (or even the middle) of Advent. Of course, Advent is the season of four weeks before Christmas, and it is an especially big deal in the (my) Episcopal Church. In 1998 or so I wrote a piece for my then church's Advent readings devotional; every year since then I tried to write something, even if only for myself, and I devoted more time and energy to spiritual reading and prayer. The past few years I have been reading "Watch for the Light", a collection of Advent and Christmas Christian readings published by Plough Publishing (as in, formerly swords?). This is not easy stuff; we're not talking Hot Chocolate for the Christian Soul, or anything. These are the likes of Bonhoeffer and Eckhart and Nouwen. I love the book, but this year I forgot all about it (and Advent) until December 18 or so. My advent wreath, which is an artificial (in my case) evergreen wreath with holders for four candles, one to be lit on each Sunday in Advent, sits aside, no candles in it.

In the Merriam-Webster dictionary, the non-Christian meaning given for "advent" is "coming into being or use." How interesting, then, that the advent of Abigail occurred this year, this year when the advent of Christ almost escaped my notice. This has been a cautionary concept for me -- not that I am giving myself a hard time for being distracted, overtired, stressed, and sick -- I feel that it's going to be increasingly important in my life to remember His Advent and to acknowledge it with the bending of knee and the pouring out of all the passionate gratitude I feel.

Both the Christ and Abby Jane were of course babies at their advent, and both were "begotten, not made," as the Creed states (though I'll acknowledge she was begotten in a much more pedestrian way). The other day, as I was listening to Christmas music on our satellite channel, "Silent Night" came on. Bing Crosby, or Andy Williams, or someone like that. Abby Jane happened to be in my arms, drinking a bottle, and I was looking down into her little face, quietly singing along to the song. All at once, the words struck me -- lyrics I've heard and sung a thousand times: "Holy infant so tender and mild, Jesus, Lord at Thy birth, Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth." The enormity of God choosing to become this tiny, helpless, poopy and sleepy and precious little sort of creature -- an infant -- really hit me for the first time. My tears dripped onto Abby's face. (She didn't mind.) Infants are indeed so tender, so mild. I was taught that our estrangement from God is the reason that we grownups are neither so tender nor so mild. I guess my wish for the rest of this Advent and for the rest of my life that I try to be as worthy of that little infant Savior as I try to be of my infant daughter.

One last thing and I'll ease up on the religious stuff. I know that those of you who read this blog are of varying religious or spiritual beliefs and practices. Nevertheless, I'm going to make a blanket request of all of you, and also ask you to pass on the address of this blog and pass on the request to anyone you know whose heart might embrace it. My request is that you pray for my little family, for D and me, for S & R my stepkids, and for little Abby Jane. I request that you pray for my health to be restored, for our troubles and stresses and fears and sorrows to be eased. Please pray that we get the chance in 2008 to live life laughing together, enjoying each other, growing and exploring, instead of trying to learn how to stick together and survive. Although I am so grateful for Abby and my other kids, and so grateful for the strong bonds that developed between me and D this year, I fervently, desperately pray that next year be a better one for all of us. Please pray that we will all be closer to God, and that this is the advent of our new lives full of Christ's peace, which as we know, He freely gives.

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. John 14:27

Peace on Earth

Well, I've done it. I have a baby. More than that, I have a daughter. "Daughter" sounds much more permanent, somehow; I guess because it is. She won't be a baby for long (unfortunately), but she will be my daughter for the rest of my life. She is a fabulous creature. Beautiful, fascinating, demanding periodically with these long periods of peacefulness between. She has huge, dark, blue eyes (for now) and dark hair that starts at her ear line like an old man. She also has perfect ears. And hands, and precious little lips that smile in her sleep.

I've decided that Abigail is the perfect name. Abigail Adams, Abigail Bartlet -- she has a dignified and adult choice to resort to when introducing herself -- but she is also approachable Abby, and lovey and sweet Abby Jane to her mama.

I keep taking extreme close-up pictures of her face, because it is so expressive and miraculous. Every time I look at her, I smile, and every time I watch her face go through its constant contortions of emotion and surprise at new sensations and curiosity and yawning and sneezing, I laugh aloud (with her, not at her, of course). I adore this child, and I fervently pray to God that She will keep Abigail safe, that She will help her to retain that sense of peace, and that She will make me a worthy mother.

Right now, she wants to be fed. Abby, not God.

Here She Is

Abigail Jane Scott

November 16, 8:08 a.m.

6 pounds, 6 ounces

20 inches of absolute joy