Gem rolled over to her belly last Monday, by Friday she was rolling to her belly and back to her back. She was never a fan of tummy time, so the denouement of all that struggle, and effort – and ultimately success – was the indignity of finding herself face down.
We’ve moved beyond that now. Aside from her new skill of returning to her back, she’s made peace with the view from her belly. A new baby gym with toys hanging over head as well as attached to the mat below have helped facilitate that change of heart.
Now that she can roll over. She’s decided she’d rather sleep on her side.
I love how these little legs are so plump, her feet don’t touch the bed.
As it turns out, I have a lot to learn about packing my daughter up to go anywhere more than 5 minutes away from home. This weekend was the PNW Highland Games in Enumclaw, Washington. We go every year. Every year we get sunburned, eat greasy food, and listen to really loud music – and complain about the unrelenting heat. This year was no different, except we brought along Uncle Timmy, and my daughter, and the stroller, and sunblock, and a cooler with ice packs to keep bottled water and her teething toys cool, and plenty of toys, and plenty of diapers, and several changes of clothes, and oh, good grief I don’t even remember what all we brought. But it wasn’t enough, even though most of the items we did bring were not used. What we should have brought were a bunch of chairs, a canopy, and a solar powered personal air conditioning device (has anyone even invented one of these yet? if not, get on it stat!).
By far the coolest thing that happened in that 100 degree weather was the discovery of a booth selling electric bagpipes. Electric! Bagpipes! Meaning they have volume control, or you can even plug in headphones and the old man can pipe away without making a peep. But that’s not the cool part. Aaron was trying out the pipes, rocking out on a song by the Wicked Tinkers when in walked Aaron Shaw with a huge smile on his face. “Great Job!” he said when my husband stopped playing. Who is Aaron Shaw? He’s the piper for the Wicked Tinkers and he wrote the song my husband was playing. How often does an artist get to perform a work (and perform it well) in front of the person that created it? My husband was riding that high for the rest of the day.
I don’t have much in the way of pictures from the games – nobody tells you how much harder it is to take photographs when you’re trying to keep tabs on a little one. I shouldn’t complain too much, I even had two helpers with me. But in lieu of photos, I will leave you with the Wicked Tinkers on Craig Ferguson. This performance focuses more on the drums for obvious reasons, but these guys are fun
As I write this we are sitting outside at a table with an umbrella. Next to us is a fountain; the soothing sound of falling water is occasionally punctuated by the squeals of toddlers splashing, and kicking, and soaking themselves. We are just feet from a gardening store, plants and flowers spill out onto the sidewalk. Babies and parents and strollers are everywhere. We come here daily. We play for a while, and look around at the sights and the other babies, and then I dive into my homework while you nap in your stroller.
These are our days lately. I try to get in as much homework as possible while you’re napping, but there is too much, so it consumes a great deal of your awake time as well. I try reading my textbooks out loud to you, and that will hold your attention for a page or two (which I think is a pretty fantastic attention span for a 4 month old baby). I want to make sure you have enough experiences outside of the home, and interaction with me, to help you develop your brain and motor skills. At the same time, passing these classes is critical for our short term and long term well being. Keeping my grades up helps me keep my financial aid so we can pay the rent; completing my degree will help me support us, and provide you with the benefit and example of educated parents. Balance, it seems, is every mother’s challenge. I’m trying to find a balance between keeping my grades up and not neglecting you.
We have managed to pack in some great experiences this month. We walked through flower gardens, played in water fountains, watched the birds in the back yard, listened to a live band, watched a bonfire, and attended several parties. You are so adventurous and adaptable – not at all intimidated by new sights and experiences, in fact, you thrive in those situations.
You have changed so much over the past month. You have discovered your fingers and they are your favorite toy these days; they’re so interactive and ever-present. Your motor skills have improved and you can now reach for and grasp toys. You shake your rattles and put everything in your mouth. Grandma gave you a spoon to play with at a restaurant and you put it right into your mouth as if you knew exactly how it was intended to be used.
Your latest skill is kisses. Big, wet, slobbery, baby kisses, and we love them so. Each time you give us a kiss, you squeal and laugh as if it’s the coolest thing you’ve ever done. We think it’s pretty cool, too.
And talking. Oh my goodness, you talk all the time. It’s all babble and giggles, but we both enjoy it so much. You wake up happy every morning, and talk to your fingers for a good half hour before you start to want some attention. This is such a nice way for me to wake up – to slowly ease into consciousness to the sound of your babbling and laughter. I think the world would be a better place if everyone could wake up every day to the sound of babies laughing.
My 20 Year High School reunion is taking place in Palmer, Alaska this weekend, but I won’t be there. I was planning to go, in fact I was looking forward to this reunion. I wanted to show off my daughter, and introduce my husband to the people who were such an important part of my past.
It didn’t work out. Why doesn’t matter, although money was no small part of the consideration.
I find it interesting how my feelings in anticipation of this event changed over the past few years. Several years ago, when looking forward to the reunion it was all about comparison. I was anxious about seeing my classmates. I was lucky in love, but the tides had turned financially and I was no longer bringing in the big bucks. How would I stack up against my classmates and their achievements? I didn’t have a beautiful house, or a cabin on the lake, or money – or time – for vacations. How would I fare in the competition of “Who’s got the best life?”
Then MySpace happened, which was quickly followed by the even better Facebook. My classmates joined up one after another, hunting down other classmates and cajoling them to sign on as well. A circle of friends grew. We were interacting with each other in a way we never had before. Looks didn’t matter. Those extra 40 pounds were irrelevant. As we shared baby pictures and survey results, built farms together and challenged each other to scrabble games and mafia wars, friendships reconnected and new ones grew irrespective of the cliques that existed during our high school days.
At our ten year reunion we showed up, showed off, exchanged email addresses, and promptly got back to our lives once the reunion was over. Few of us stayed in touch. Don’t get me wrong, I had a great time and I’m glad I went. But I suspect this reunion will be different.
This time we reconnected before the reunion. Over the past couple of years we’ve shared each other’s trials and triumphs. We’ve cared about each other in specific ways: hoping a job interview goes well, a healthy baby (or grandbaby), a big cross country move, and a cancer diagnosis. We stopped being a generalized and generic collective and, by interacting with each other through Facebook, became a collection of individuals. Competition matters less (unless you’re playing Scrabble against Liz), those 40 extra pounds matter less, the paycheck matters less, the living arrangements matter less.
What really matters is who you are when you sit down and start typing. Are you real? Do you give a shit? And, remember when…
So I’ll be thinking of you this weekend Palmer High School Class of ’89. And when you get back home, I’ll still be on Facebook, awaiting your updates, and photos, and maybe a cherry tree for my farm.
Cheers!
On a side note: What do you do with a 20+ year old woolen letter jacket? I know the streets are crowded with people who will desperately need a coat this winter, but this coat is so tied up in my identity (not to mention that my name is embroidered all over it), it doesn’t feel right to hand it over to just anyone. It still fits. Maybe I’ll wear it this winter and see if it makes me feel younger.
CoffeeJitters is an affiliate to a number of sites and services. I do not endorse products I don't love. I may receive compensation if you purchase items from links on this website.
