Funny Things

There are lots of funny things happening in our world lately. Here's how Hadley fills her days:

1. Says "no, no, no, no" very earnestly when she doesn't like something. I realized that when I tell her "no," I say it three or four times, too. Proof that even when she pretends not to hear me, she hears me.

2. Puts her finger to her lips and says, "Shhhh," when one of us brings her into our room in the morning. She wakes up early (hello, 6:00 a.m.), and she knows that the other one of us is trying to steal 10 or 15 minutes more sleep.

3. Says "hi-ii" to everyone, especially people she knows. (The first syllable is higher pitched than the second.) It sounds like she's just been reunited with her long-lost best friend.

4. Dances. She bends side to side and raises her shoulders when she hears music. Just lately, she's been wiggling her arms, too. (We went to music class for the first time on Tuesday, and she was the only kid who danced. She wiggled in her own little space outside the circle for five minutes straight.)

5. Kisses through the picture window. When one of us comes home from work, she sees Jason or me pull up outside, thanks to our big picture window. Then she bangs on the glass--as if we're going to forget where to go when we get out of the car. Then, as we get close to the window, she purses her lips and "kisses" us through the window. She doesn't give many real kisses these days--she's far too busy--but we have plenty of lip marks on the glass as reminders of her affection.

6. Prefers to be buried in pillows. Hadley loves to roll around on our bed--it's like watching a dog try to scratch his back on the floor--and she really loves when we toss a pillow over her. She'll lay there, as still as if she's sleeping, for a full minute, just happily covered up by the pillow. (If I take it off, she says, "no, no, no, no.")

7. Loves to play in the dirt. She is quite serious about moving dirt from the garden to a big pot we have standing next to the garden and back again. I finally bought her a couple of shovels this week in hopes of keeping her fingernails a bit cleaner.

8. Pats when she hugs. Her little hands tap, tap, tap, as if she's trying to comfort the recipient. I love it!

9. Says "Emmo?" when she wants to watch her Elmo DVD. She had only seen it two or three times when she started saying "Emmo?" How did she learn that so fast?

10. Sits in her baby armchair with all of her animals. The more stuffed animals tucked in and around her, the better.

11. Loves rocks. (I think she's going to be the kid with the pet rock. Poor thing.)

12. Knows what a lion, dog, lamb and cow say. In Hadley's world, the lion, cow and lamb are very aggressive; she makes their sounds very loudly. (It's particularly funny with the lamb: "Hadley, what does a lamb say?" "BAAAAAAAA!" she yells. Weird lamb.) But with the dog, she whispers "Woof, woof."

13. Loves to brush her teeth. When she's done with her bath at night, she points to her toothbrush on the vanity top and says, "Breef!"

14. Waves bye-bye to Jason when it's time for her to nurse before bed.

15. Loves to empty my wallet. Laughs while she does it. Seems intrigued by the credit cards.

Rinse. Repeat. A bazillion times.

Note to Self: Remember THIS

When we have a really great moment--not necessarily Disney-World great, but just a happy moment of baking or craft-making or laughing uncontrollably--I want to tell Hadley: "Remember this minute. Stop for a second and press this memory into your mind and your heart. Keep it forever."

After all, there's nothing quite like playing old memories in your mind while you lay in bed at night. It's just...good.

And now, for a few snapshots from our time at Zapata Ranch last weekend. I cannot really believe that she won't always be this age. I'm trying hard not to let her suddenly become 10 years old. I'm trying to remember each moment.

Playing at Great Sand Dunes National Park

Can you even stand how cute those glasses are?

Sand! In the middle of the mountains!

The perfect bench

Hello, random piece of old ranch equipment...

Am I really allowed to stand on this thing?

Hello, cute baby tush...

Um, Dad? I don't know how to get down from here...

I love random old ranch equipment!

Peek-a-boo!

Daddy Day

Editor's Note: I've been working on this post for a week now, trying to get it just right. I feel like whatever I say, it won't quite capture the goodness and happiness Jason gives to Hadley and me. But what's a baby blog without a Father's Day post? So with this caveat, I'm publishing...

In honor of Daddy Day, I think it's about time we have a post about Jason, who is the rock in our family, the Steady Eddie to my Loopy Lucy. He is the calm and the security and the patience in our home; he's the voice of reason to my occasional freak-out; he's the gentle spirit who loves quietly and deeply. His family and friends know that once Jason loves you, he loves you forever.

And one look at Hadley with Jason, and even the most casual observer would know that these two are hooked on each other. Hadley adores her daddy (whom she calls "Da"); so do I.

Of all the good things in Hadley's life, one of the very, very best is a daddy who loves her deeply. I didn't realize until I was in high school how many girls long for daddies who loom large in their lives, who show love and enforce discipline, who cheer them on and make them feel safe, and who teach them to recognize the good guys and fall for nothing less. I have a daddy like that, and so does Hadley.

Best of all, Jason is an expert at showing love--while I will tell you all day long how much I love you. He loves in action; I love in words. I hope Hadley learns to love both ways, but if she can choose only one, I hope she learns to love in action. Jason serves and gives. He gets up with Hadley most mornings because even though he'd love to sleep, he gives me the gift of rest. (I also think he enjoys having Hadley all to himself for an hour or so.) He makes our dinner most nights because I'm not such a skilled chef; he fixes the swamp cooler so we'll be comfortable at home; plants our vegetable garden because I've been talking about having one for years; remembers to back up my computer because I forget--and he knows that I have plenty of precious writings and photos on this old machine. He's that kind of guy.

Hadley already knows it. Today, as we drove home from an outing, I said to her, "I think Daddy will be home when we get there!" So she grinned and started chanting, "Da! Da! Da!" Babies have great instincts; she knows that her daddy loves her deep and true.

I know it, too. When the enormity of raising a child hits me--when I realize the responsibility and hugeness of it all--I look at Jason and think, "Oh, okay. We can do this." This year has not been easy for us. We both work at least a few hours most weekends and nearly every evening; Jason travels once a month or more; we both wish we could spend more time with Hadley, and each other, and our friends. But when I start to feel overwhelmed by all we're trying to do and be, Jason is calm. He always reminds me to look at Hadley, who is a happy, healthy, secure little girl. He reminds me that we have a warm, cozy home, filled with good food, where people who love us visit often. When he prays, he thanks God first for our blessings, and first among those is Hadley and our family.

How does he know how to do these things, how to be the perfect balance of fun and serious, gentle and stern, patient and silly?

I do not know, but I am thankful down to my soul for him, and for all he is to Hadley.

On Weaning

I'm going to be honest: It often feels as though I have about four readers of this precious blog of mine, and I'm a writer...and writers like an audience. Well, this writer likes an audience. But I persist because 1) I've persuaded myself that there are hundreds (if not thousands) of you out there just dying to hear about Hadley's life and 2) this blog has turned into a great way for me to process motherhood and record some of Hadley's daily life. When she's older, she can moan and tell me to stop sharing her life with the world, but for now, I'm in charge of this space.

But tonight, I'm going to post on a topic that's a bit personal, so if there are only four of you, I'm cool with that.

Hadley is in the amorphous place between babyhood and toddlerhood, and she's running toward toddlerhood faster than I can believe. She's walking all over the place; eating almost everything (last night, at Mumsie and Granddaddy's house, she ate olives and goat cheese, which is proof that she is indeed my child); expressing her opinion (more proof that she's mine); talking ("hat" and "toes" are new words); and looking more and more like a little girl every day.

But one remnant of her babyhood remains: nursing.

When Hadley was born, I was determined to breast feed her for a year. It was difficult and painful at first, but I got through those first weeks knowing that it was best for her. And then, one day, about a month into Hadley's life, it was easy--and wonderful. All that snuggling, all that togetherness, I loved it, and I could tell she did, too. I loved that nursing was convenient and free and formulated perfectly for her.

When I went back to work, I pumped at least three times a day, and in case you faithful readers have never pumped, let me assure you there is nothing glamorous about it. It added at least 15 minutes to my morning routine; it was the last thing I did before bed every night; I squeezed it in between meetings ("squeezed" being the operative word there); and it made me feel like Bessy the Milk Cow. But still, it was worth it.

Those first few weeks, I wondered how I'd make it a whole year. A whole year later, I wonder how I'll give it up.

We're down to two feedings a day: one when she wakes up in the morning, and one before she goes to bed at night. (Now, after we put her pjs on, she looks at Jason, waves and says "bye-bye." It's pretty funny.) My hunch is that she's nearly ready to wean, and I should just do it once and for all. But I keep putting it off. "Just one more week," I tell myself. "Not now, we're getting ready to go out of town. Not next week, Jason will be in Chicago for business." I have a million excuses, but the real reason I haven't done it is that I will miss it.

Her growing independence is such a good and healthy thing, but it means that she's often too busy to be held. One of the greatest joys in life--the best, simple gifts moms get--is the feeling of our babies pressed up against us. I can't let that go just yet.

Just Plain Fun...

When we took Hadley in for her one-year-old doctor's appointment last month, the doctor (who has grown kids) said, "I loved the summer after my kids turned one. It's such a fun time." And I remember really liking him at that moment because our appointment wasn't just about tongue depressors and stethoscopes; it was about our family, having a good time together in the summer sun (slathered in sunscreen, of course).

And that's what these last few weeks have been: F-U-N. Hadley is walking all over the place, five steps here, 10 steps there. She teeters less, and the classic I'm-learning-to-walk gait has become far more stable in recent days. She understands more; I'm amazed by how often she responds to a random question or suggestion. (Just yesterday, we were reading a book that has an owl on one page, and I said to her, "Hm. Why don't you give that owl a kiss?" She did, and she does--every time we read the book.) And our little girl is so easy to entertain. She likes to go in the backyard, pick up tiny sticks and slide them through the open spaces in our woven wrought-iron furniture. Then she walks up and down the cobblestone path. She teases me by pretending she's going to pluck a leaf from the big potted plant outside--and then she laughs that great belly laugh that is more contagious than the winter flu at an indoor playground.

She's curious and generally up for anything (except the aforementioned car trip, perhaps). And here's the real kicker: She's great company. I love to spend time with her. I've always loved to spend time with her, but now, she's just so...fun. Interested. Excited. Earnest. (For all of her gumption--and heaven help us, she has plenty--Hadley is a serious observer. When we go to the Children's Museum, for example, she generally sits in the toddlers' play space for a good five minutes, watching the other kids, taking it all in. Then she takes off to play. I hope this habit of hers is a lifelong one. Taking a few minutes to evaluate a situation before jumping right in is generally a good approach, if you ask me.)

So all of this is just to say that we're having a blast. We're looking forward to lazy afternoons in the kiddie pool Mumsie and Granddaddy gave her for her birthday; mornings at the playground, library and museum; and maybe a few special trips to the zoo, aquarium, a petting zoo I discovered online and a restored old-fashioned carousel in Nederland that I can't wait to see.

It hardly seems like there's enough summer for all of our adventures.

Silly, Parents. Car Trips are for...Three-Year-Olds?

I suspect that this won't be the first time that we make a dumb decision, and I pray that our other dumb decisions are as relatively harmless. Here's what happened: Jason's cousin Andrew got engaged to a great woman named Tracy. Andrew and Tracy invited us to their wedding outside of Lincoln, Nebraska. We decided to go. We decided to drive. With Hadley. 500 miles.

It sounds foolish now, I know. But when we decided to go--via car--we thought, "Well, Hadley will have her new forward-facing car seat by then. She'll dig it. We'll stop every so often. She'll probably sleep most of the way. She'll love it!"

So there you go. Dumb decision supported by the most ridiculous reasoning (or non-reasoning, as it is more aptly called) we could have dreamt up.

Here's what happened next: As Friday, our day of departure, drew nearer, I began to worry a bit. Could Hadley really make it 500 miles strapped into the car? Did we have the energy to entertain her for, oh, eight hours? What would we do if she had a breakdown mid-way?

But for each of these misgivings, I had a response: Hadley is a great traveler (on the airplane). She plays well by herself. Breakdown? My child doesn't have breakdowns.

So we packed half of what we own (or rather, half of what Hadley owns) into Jason's car and headed out on Friday morning. We felt so brave, so familial, so...National Lampoon's Baby Vacation. Hadley was great for an hour. She looked at her books, looked out the window, ate a snack, blabbered her super-cute baby talk. Then I turned around to check on her, and she grabbed the straps on her car seat and scrinched up her nose, as only Hadley can do. Then she gave me the "all done" sign. Clear. As. Day.

Oh, crap. Oh-crap-oh-crap-oh-crap. One hour? We had made it to Ft. Morgan. So we got off at an exit, parked in the McDonald's lot and proceeded to try to help Hadley fall asleep. Let's just say that episode lasted 45 minutes and involved Jason rocking Hadley in his arms in a nearby Baptist church sanctuary. We must have looked a bit distraught because after we gave up trying to get Hadley to fall asleep, the pastor came out and asked if he could pray for us before we went on our way. Um, yes. Remember when God put Adam to sleep while He created Eve? We wanted THAT kind of sleep for Hadley, please.

We didn't get it.

Instead, we got grumpiness. We got fidgeting. And then I looked at Jason in the rearview mirror (I was driving and he was taking a turn entertaining Hadley), and said, "Do you think we can make it?" And he said, "Nope, I don't think we can." At this point, we had gone 100 miles...and we'd been gone from home for two-and-a-half hours. At that rate, our trip would take 12 hours, not the eight or so we had planned.

After hemming and hawing for another 15 minutes, we finally decided to turn around. We stopped in Ft. Morgan again and ate lunch, and then Hadley fell asleep and slept the last 90 minutes home.

We were disappointed--and mad at ourselves. We would miss the wedding and a visit with Hadley's Grandma, Grandpa and Auntie Crystal, not to mention a swath of extended family she's never even met. Why didn't we think to buy plane tickets? Why did we think that driving 500 miles with a very busy, very active one-year-old would be a good idea? Are we crazy?

Nope, not crazy, we decided after we beat ourselves up for a few hours. Just first-time parents. Rookies with a quixotic notion of road-tripping with our baby girl.

Friday evening, we unpacked the car and laughed when we thought about how Hadley viewed our day. "Mom? Dad? That Subway in Ft. Morgan was a nice place, but there's a Subway--and about six other places to get a sandwich--three miles from our house. No need to drive quite so far next time."

We spent our long weekend together, planting our garden (lettuce, bell peppers, tomatoes, basil, rosemary--oh, I can't wait!) and playing. We were disappointed to miss the wedding, but there was something very sweet about having time together that we hadn't expected to have. Hadley played outside a lot. We took her to the children's museum, out to breakfast (twice), on walks to the park, to the grocery store (which she loves). We played a lot of peek-a-boo and read a lot of books. ("Brown Bear, Brown Bear, what do you see? I see a red bird looking at me.")

And I think we forgave ourselves for our ridiculous notion. Jason kept saying, "Nobody died. Nobody's hurt." And it's true. It would have been great to celebrate with Andrew and Tracy, but in the grand scheme, we have to see this mishap as a tiny mark on our parenting record. We'll make more mistakes, bigger mistakes, but I hope that we find grace even in those bigger mistakes like we found it this weekend.

Now, because no post is complete with a few photos of Hadley, here are some photos from her birthday celebration. More to come, I promise.

And Then She Turned One

Our baby is a year old. A year and a day, really, because I spent yesterday celebrating and not blogging--as it should be. How is Hadley, little baby Hadley with the spiky black hair and impish grin, already a one-year-old? Here she was a year ago:

And here she is today:

And I tell you the truth: I could not have imagined how much my love for her would grow in one year. Oh, I loved her the first minute I saw her, but the more I get to know her and the more she reveals herself to us, the more in love I fall.

I can hardly remember what it felt like to be pregnant and wonder about who she was. Now, all I can think is, "Of course the baby inside me was Hadley. Of course the baby inside me was this spark of a child, whose happiness is matched only by her willfulness. Of course the baby inside me was this beautiful girl with grey-green eyes and a smile that makes her whole face beam. Of course." She is just who she is supposed to be, just who we were supposed to have.

She is growing into quite a little girl. She has ideas of her own--where she wants to go, what she wants to eat (I swear she would survive on pears, cheese and O's if we let her), what she wants to play. She knows how to be silly, how to make us laugh, how to press our buttons. She gives hugs and the occasional kiss, which she bestows in one of two ways: a smooch so quick we don't know we've received it until it's over, or a big, wet, mushy, open-mouthed slobber that leaves the recipient's face rather sticky for a long while. No middle ground.

She understands so much. Tonight, I asked if she was ready for a bath. She laughed and walked (holding on to my fingers, as I trailed, doubled-over, behind her) directly to the bathtub. She plays music on her little musical table and dances. She looks for people when we ask where they are. She knows her tummy, the light, her nose, her shoes and socks, and probably a dozen things she's keeping secret for now.

I love her. Wildly, deeply. And even though she gets presents on her birthday, I will forever feel that on May 4, 2009, Jason and I got the biggest, most wonderful gift of all when the doctor put Hadley in our arms.

Happy birthday, sweet girl.