Today Mia was honored at a baby shower hosted by her Aunt Jenn Grabenstetter and Mrs. Thompson. It was the perfect morning complete with pink tulips, pink lemonade, pink cupcakes, tasty quiche and great company. I couldn't help but think how much fun I've had preparing to have this little girl and how glad she will have so many wonderful women in her life.
When I found out we were having a girl, I was so excited. I pictured us doing all of the things I did with my mom--exploring the Clinique counter, trying new things on our hair and shopping trips to name a few. I imagine us covering the entire mall and grabbing a lemonade from Chick Fil-A while we drive home listening to our new Taylor Swift cd. What fun!
I long for me and her to have the bond that she appreciates when she gets her first zit, has her heart broken for the first time, picks out her wedding gown and has her own babies. I, as I'm sure most mothers do, hope that she grows into an intelligent, kind, gracious, witty woman--a true lady.
Lucky for Mia, she has plenty of great examples of what it means to be a lady. If she could have seen the room today, she would have noticed the women there were all unique, but all the same in that each of them had qualities that I hope she gets. What is most exciting to think about is that Mia will be become her own lady, and she will always have a mom who is proud to know her and call her my daughter--even if she doesn't enjoy Taylor Swift.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
I Promise
As the big day nears, I think it is only natural to wonder what type of father I will be. This being my first foray into fatherhood, I can't say I know for certain how I will be in all situations. However, I have compiled a list of promises that I think all fathers should try to stick to throughout the years.
1. I promise to mute my fears and natural gag reflexes at 2 a.m. when you decide to defy all laws of biology and fill your diaper with 3 times more substance than you have ever ingested.
2. I promise to exhibit the patience of Job when your inquisitive little mind tests your hypothesis that my Blackberry not only can and should be flushed down the toilet, but that watching it swirl will be a hilarious feat indeed.
3. I promise to be a brave warrior when you hear monsters under your bed or in your closet even though I'm far closer to the indian in the Village People than any in The Last of the Mohicans.
4. I promise to proudly display your artwork at my office - completely disregarding the fact that I have no idea what you drew or why it looks like you potentially were holding the crayon with your feet instead of your hands while coloring.
5. I promise to take you for ice cream after we have a hard day putting in time at the Build-A-Bear workshop. This double scoop and a new teddy will make your Saturday .... simply hanging with you will make mine.
6. I promise to confidently answer questions like "why aren't there 'B' batteries" and "do people yawn in their sleep" because even though I have no idea the actual answers, all little girls deserve the luxury of thinking their dad's know everything.
7. I promise to dance with you when your school or girl scout troop hosts a Father - Daughter dance. This way, no matter what stage of bodily awkwardness you are going through, you will certainly not be the worst dancer there.
8a. I promise to be a shoulder to cry on when your heart gets broken by the 15 year old you just knew you were going to marry.
8b. I will secretly hide my joy over this recent relationship development as even though I am 15 years from meeting said boy, I already don't like him.
9. I promise to do my best to hold it together as I give away the most beautiful girl in the world on your wedding day... AFTER college...to a DOCTOR. (Disclaimer: "hold it together" in no way means I won't cry. After all, I'm a father, not a robot)
10. I promise to be the kind of grandpa that spoils your children so badly that they literally cry the whole ride back home and can't get to sleep until midnight because they are hopped up on the candy I stashed in their suitcases.
As time passes and life gets in the way, lists like this get harder and harder to stick by. So, perhaps I will do myself a favor and make a slightly shorter one - I promise to bring God into your life as I am so very thankful he has brought you into mine. I promise to love your mother in a way that sets the highest standard and example for all men who will come into your life. Lastly, and most importantly, Amelia, I promise to put you FIRST on all my lists.
1. I promise to mute my fears and natural gag reflexes at 2 a.m. when you decide to defy all laws of biology and fill your diaper with 3 times more substance than you have ever ingested.
2. I promise to exhibit the patience of Job when your inquisitive little mind tests your hypothesis that my Blackberry not only can and should be flushed down the toilet, but that watching it swirl will be a hilarious feat indeed.
3. I promise to be a brave warrior when you hear monsters under your bed or in your closet even though I'm far closer to the indian in the Village People than any in The Last of the Mohicans.
4. I promise to proudly display your artwork at my office - completely disregarding the fact that I have no idea what you drew or why it looks like you potentially were holding the crayon with your feet instead of your hands while coloring.
5. I promise to take you for ice cream after we have a hard day putting in time at the Build-A-Bear workshop. This double scoop and a new teddy will make your Saturday .... simply hanging with you will make mine.
6. I promise to confidently answer questions like "why aren't there 'B' batteries" and "do people yawn in their sleep" because even though I have no idea the actual answers, all little girls deserve the luxury of thinking their dad's know everything.
7. I promise to dance with you when your school or girl scout troop hosts a Father - Daughter dance. This way, no matter what stage of bodily awkwardness you are going through, you will certainly not be the worst dancer there.
8a. I promise to be a shoulder to cry on when your heart gets broken by the 15 year old you just knew you were going to marry.
8b. I will secretly hide my joy over this recent relationship development as even though I am 15 years from meeting said boy, I already don't like him.
9. I promise to do my best to hold it together as I give away the most beautiful girl in the world on your wedding day... AFTER college...to a DOCTOR. (Disclaimer: "hold it together" in no way means I won't cry. After all, I'm a father, not a robot)
10. I promise to be the kind of grandpa that spoils your children so badly that they literally cry the whole ride back home and can't get to sleep until midnight because they are hopped up on the candy I stashed in their suitcases.
As time passes and life gets in the way, lists like this get harder and harder to stick by. So, perhaps I will do myself a favor and make a slightly shorter one - I promise to bring God into your life as I am so very thankful he has brought you into mine. I promise to love your mother in a way that sets the highest standard and example for all men who will come into your life. Lastly, and most importantly, Amelia, I promise to put you FIRST on all my lists.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
An actual baby
Today, for the first time in my life, I held an actual baby. In case any of you are wondering how we had the audacity to have Amelia without telling you... calm down. This was not our baby. It was one we stole from the nursery. Just kidding, my boss had a daughter on Wednesday and invited us over to see her today. Honestly, I knew babies were small. But, I had never really seen one up close to know they were pocket size. She was markedly smaller than a freshly shorn Miss Kitty, who is all of 6 lbs. I'm not sure she was much bigger than Mr. Hippopotamus - Sophie's stuffed toy that has thus far served as Amelia's proxy when practicing swaddling, diaper changing, and testing out the car seat. Of course, the doctors have informed us that Mia will be roughly the size of a toddler and already shaving her legs by the time she's born. So, we may be in awe of her size in a different way.
So, how did I do for my first time holding a baby? Let's just say I moved with the fluidity and grace of a 13 year old boy at his first middle school dance. I wasn't quite sure how to hold my arms, where to hold her, or what to do to erase the look of horror and tears on her face - come to think of it, it was more like my middle school dances than I originally thought! After holding her for what felt like an hour, but in real people time was probably 5 minutes, I felt my arm begin to cramp. Apparently, you aren't supposed to hold your arms up and out like you are halfway through your Swan Lake pirouette solo. She and I both began to relax a bit and it became a truly great experience. She looked up at me as if to say "I promise I won't cry and make you look like a bad father-to-be" and I looked at her thinking "Who cares if you cry? Just please don't barf or poo on me". It was really a special time we shared - we had a moment.
At the end of the day, I think I accomplished my mission. I wanted to see what it felt like to hold a baby. I wanted to hold said baby without dropping her. I wanted to know if it would make me want Amelia to get here even faster. It felt surprisingly cozy holding a baby. She was soft, warm, and even though she wasn't mine, it gave me an overwhelming calmness to see that she felt safe and secure in my arms. The feeling I left with was one of intense anticipation for my own daughter's arrival. Before today, I wasn't sure how I'd ever be able to hold a fragile, little baby. After today, I'm not sure I'll ever want to put her down.
So, how did I do for my first time holding a baby? Let's just say I moved with the fluidity and grace of a 13 year old boy at his first middle school dance. I wasn't quite sure how to hold my arms, where to hold her, or what to do to erase the look of horror and tears on her face - come to think of it, it was more like my middle school dances than I originally thought! After holding her for what felt like an hour, but in real people time was probably 5 minutes, I felt my arm begin to cramp. Apparently, you aren't supposed to hold your arms up and out like you are halfway through your Swan Lake pirouette solo. She and I both began to relax a bit and it became a truly great experience. She looked up at me as if to say "I promise I won't cry and make you look like a bad father-to-be" and I looked at her thinking "Who cares if you cry? Just please don't barf or poo on me". It was really a special time we shared - we had a moment.
At the end of the day, I think I accomplished my mission. I wanted to see what it felt like to hold a baby. I wanted to hold said baby without dropping her. I wanted to know if it would make me want Amelia to get here even faster. It felt surprisingly cozy holding a baby. She was soft, warm, and even though she wasn't mine, it gave me an overwhelming calmness to see that she felt safe and secure in my arms. The feeling I left with was one of intense anticipation for my own daughter's arrival. Before today, I wasn't sure how I'd ever be able to hold a fragile, little baby. After today, I'm not sure I'll ever want to put her down.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Practice makes perfect
The countdown has started. We have less than FIVE weeks to go! One thought has kept coming to mind - what in the world do I know about being a dad?!? Well, as I was defrosting Sophie's paws tonight after she was done writing her name in the snow, it dawned on me that she is ten pounds of furry baby practice... and school has been in session since they day we got her.
The first, and potentially most frustrating, parenting lesson Sophie has taught me is this... DO NOT let the baby sleep in the bed with you. This lovely practice Meggan started has continued on as I have joined the fray. All the "experts" say to kick her out before the baby comes. Frankly, if anyone is getting kicked out, it's me. Sophie not only barks all night if she is not allowed in the room, she also won't sleep until both Meggan and I are in bed with her. Once all parties are accounted for, she makes her executive decision as to whether she will sleep ON the covers rendering you unable to move them or under the covers (see article in other link to discover the immense risks associated with being under a pregnant woman's blankets) snuggled up against you like a teddy bear holding a heat lamp. So, thanks to Meggan's love of all things tiny and needy looking, we are prisoners to a space hogging, furnace-like, paperweight of a bed partner.
The second lesson I learned was quite a bit more of a challenge. That lesson is that my stomach is tougher than I give it credit for. All puppy books will tell you dogs are den animals and as such, they will not "go" where they eat and sleep. Sophie, being the competitor she is, took this as a challenge to her doghood. So, with vim and vigor, she proceeded to prove this theory wrong each day for me as I came home to see her at lunch. There, during my one hour of reprieve from the workday, I was greeted daily by Sophie who had freshly completed her best Riverdance impression in her own poo. I'm not sure if she just didn't notice, if she thought it was good for her pores, or if she was just giving me payback for keeping her in puppy prison all day. Either way, I cleaned her up over and over and over again without losing my lunch - lesson learned.
The last and single most important translatable lesson Sophie has taught me is that all small creatures who live near the ground will eat absolutely anything their lucky little mouths stumble upon. I have seen Soph fly off the couch and attack a fallen Dorito like nobody's business. She eats fur tumbleweeds like they are cotton candy. I have to literally set up a blockade to keep her from going back to her pre-rehab days as a certified Kitty poopsicle addict. She has even been known to eat wood, which is a guaranteed P.I.N. (Poo In the Nubby) situation. Babies explore with their mouths as well. So, I will have to be even more diligent when it comes to protecting her from all the dangers that roam the hardwoods. Luckily, Sophie will do the best job she can to make sure she eats everything before Amelia even has a remote chance to get to it.
So, am I crazy enough to think having a dog is truly the same as having a baby? No. However, I do think some of the responsibilities and obligations are the same. Both love you unconditionally, both need you for everything, and both require a little love, a lot of patience, and a hell of a sense of humor.
The first, and potentially most frustrating, parenting lesson Sophie has taught me is this... DO NOT let the baby sleep in the bed with you. This lovely practice Meggan started has continued on as I have joined the fray. All the "experts" say to kick her out before the baby comes. Frankly, if anyone is getting kicked out, it's me. Sophie not only barks all night if she is not allowed in the room, she also won't sleep until both Meggan and I are in bed with her. Once all parties are accounted for, she makes her executive decision as to whether she will sleep ON the covers rendering you unable to move them or under the covers (see article in other link to discover the immense risks associated with being under a pregnant woman's blankets) snuggled up against you like a teddy bear holding a heat lamp. So, thanks to Meggan's love of all things tiny and needy looking, we are prisoners to a space hogging, furnace-like, paperweight of a bed partner.
The second lesson I learned was quite a bit more of a challenge. That lesson is that my stomach is tougher than I give it credit for. All puppy books will tell you dogs are den animals and as such, they will not "go" where they eat and sleep. Sophie, being the competitor she is, took this as a challenge to her doghood. So, with vim and vigor, she proceeded to prove this theory wrong each day for me as I came home to see her at lunch. There, during my one hour of reprieve from the workday, I was greeted daily by Sophie who had freshly completed her best Riverdance impression in her own poo. I'm not sure if she just didn't notice, if she thought it was good for her pores, or if she was just giving me payback for keeping her in puppy prison all day. Either way, I cleaned her up over and over and over again without losing my lunch - lesson learned.
The last and single most important translatable lesson Sophie has taught me is that all small creatures who live near the ground will eat absolutely anything their lucky little mouths stumble upon. I have seen Soph fly off the couch and attack a fallen Dorito like nobody's business. She eats fur tumbleweeds like they are cotton candy. I have to literally set up a blockade to keep her from going back to her pre-rehab days as a certified Kitty poopsicle addict. She has even been known to eat wood, which is a guaranteed P.I.N. (Poo In the Nubby) situation. Babies explore with their mouths as well. So, I will have to be even more diligent when it comes to protecting her from all the dangers that roam the hardwoods. Luckily, Sophie will do the best job she can to make sure she eats everything before Amelia even has a remote chance to get to it.
So, am I crazy enough to think having a dog is truly the same as having a baby? No. However, I do think some of the responsibilities and obligations are the same. Both love you unconditionally, both need you for everything, and both require a little love, a lot of patience, and a hell of a sense of humor.
30 years and 35 weeks
So, in the last week, Randall and I have celebrated two milestones. Randall turned 30 years old (this pic is from the party me, Sophie and Kitty threw him) and I turned 35 weeks pregnant. Dr. Palermo said that we are measuring a week ahead of schedule, so we are hoping that nothing pops off early. We still need to install a carseat however one does that. I'm having these visions of me going into labor and us not having anything packed or ready. I think I'm going to go do some packing now while I'm inspired.
Snow Day
Today was our first (and probably only) snow day here in Charlotte. Randall and I woke up at 6:30 a.m. to see a lovely blanket of snow covering our neighborhood. As I anxiously watched the news to see school closings, I was like a kid when they said my school was closed today. So, of course, Randall and I proceeded to go outside to play in the snow.
Clearly I cannot figure out how to make a decent layout on this blog with pictures, but I will explain the pics from top to bottom. We shall call the first pic "Amelia loses a snowball fight." For everyone reading this horrified, no bellies or babies were harmed in the taking of this picture. We simply smeared some snow on my belly and took the pic. We crack ourselves up.
The second pic is of our second snowman that we've made here in Charlotte. Some of you may remember our snowman from last year. She was about the same size. We were proud.
The third pic is of Casa de Barber covered in snow. It was just so peaceful and beautiful.
Now, the snow is almost all melted away, and it's just cold outside and it's beginning to sink in that this snow day is going to make the rest of this work week a bit more crunched. But it sure was fun while it lasted.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Speaking of fun pregnancy symptoms, this article is just hilarious.
http://http://www.hisboyscanswim.com/473/pregnancy-gas-early-pregnancy-wifes-gas-drives-husband-out-of-house
http://http://www.hisboyscanswim.com/473/pregnancy-gas-early-pregnancy-wifes-gas-drives-husband-out-of-house
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