Want to Play Pretend?

I remember so clearly being four or five years old and asking my friends, "Do you want to play pretend?" Often, I was Annie (from the musical) and my friends had to be the other orphans. Sometimes I was the queen and my friends were my servants. Come to think of it, I wonder why anyone bothered to play with me at all. (I have a very clear memory of telling one of my friends to go get grapes because queens eat grapes. Ok, then...)

Hadley is starting to pretend. She takes her stuffed animals and makes nonsensical noises, like she's talking to them, and then they talk back. She picks up her plastic bee toy and says, "buzzzzzzz." Best of all, she's starting to love dressing up.

My godmother (whose maiden name is Hadley) sent our Hadley a purple crown of flowers and a purple leotard with attached tutu. It's just about the cutest thing I've ever seen, and Hadley likes to put it on and pat the tutu; she's so proud of it. (Photos soon, I promise!) She also likes to put random diaper covers on her head, as evidenced here:

"Diaper covers make very good hats."

And of course, she must try on other people's shoes and her ladybug wellies, which are three sizes too big.

There is something alarmingly go-go-dancer-ish about her pose, don't you think?

Sometimes she likes to throw on my clothes (here, she's wearing one of my pajama tops) for fun.

(I love that her hair is all wild from pulling that thing over her head half a dozen times before she got it just right.)

I am looking forward to many, many snowy mornings playing "queen" and singing our hearts out to old show tunes--and this time, I promise to share the spotlight (as if I'll have a choice)...

Mommy Comes Home

Tonight I got back from two days and two nights in Telluride--without my baby girl. I went for work and took my mom, and we had a marvelous time: driving through Colorado; eating while gazing at the giant, silent peaks that surround the tiny mountain town; taking the world's very best Gondola ride; swimming in the hotel pool; and talking, talking, talking.

But I missed my Hadley. Achingly so. And it seems that every baby girl under the age of two was in Telluride this weekend. I had to talk to every single one of their moms, so that they'd have to stop and I could say, "I have a 15-month-old at home." And every single one of the moms smiled in a way that told me that they knew how hard it is for a mom to leave her heart at home, where it roams around and eats Goldfish and watches Elmo.

When we got home this evening, I rushed in to grab and squeeze Hadley. She was nonchalant about it all, as if she knew that eventually, I'd be back. She and her daddy had a fun weekend, I could tell. She gave one little inkling that suggested she had missed me: After her bath tonight, she gave me a long, happy hug and patted my back, as if to say, "Welcome home, Mama. Welcome home." I rocked her and put her to bed, and now I want to sneak in there and hold her for a few more minutes.

When Jason leaves on a trip, we say, "Daddies always come home." I said to her when I was leaving, "I'll see you in two days. Mommies always come home." Of course, that's not entirely true. Sometimes the world is a terrible, awful place, where mommies and daddies don't come home. That's a fact I knew but never felt until I had a baby.

But a mama can't just sit at home for fear of the world. It's a tough balance. I have plenty of wanderlust. I wish that Jason and I had made it back to Europe before Hadley was born; I'd like to see Israel, Bali, Bora Bora, Tahiti, Australia, Kenya--even Canada, for heaven's sake. For all of this eagerness to go, I feel a much stronger desire to stay. That's kind of new for me.

It's good. Really, really good.

Telluride was wonderful. Beautiful. Restful. But not so beautiful as holding Hadley--in her blueberry-stained T-shirt--when I got home.

And before too long, Hadley will have wanderlust, too. She'll ask about Paris or Montreal or... Idaho, and I hope we'll cultivate in her a desire to go, ...just as long as she takes her mama along for the ride, too.

If I were a superhero...

...I would not be The Amazing Blog Woman. Because I've not been blogging at all. Not that you don't know that. Sorry.

(Just in case you're wondering, if I were a superhero, I'd be able to fly. That would be awesome. No more waiting in line at the security checkpoint at the airport. With a stroller. And a toddler. And 500 pounds of baby-related gear.)

Anyway, we've been so busy this summer, I've hardly had time to record it all. I keep a journal for Hadley--full of more personal stuff--that I started when I was pregnant, and I try to maintain this little corner of the Internet, but really, I spend most of my time just trying to keep up with Hadley, which is a full-time job. And I also have a full-time job. Sheesh.

We've been having all sorts of good adventures lately. Every Tuesday morning, we go to music class, which Hadley loves. She prefers the up-tempo songs, and she always asks for "more?" when we're done. If I sing the first note of any one of about six or seven songs, she starts doing the motions. (Most popular is "Itsy Bitsy Spider," which our music teacher calls "Eensy Weensy Spider," but Hadley and I know that is not correct. Silly music teacher.)

If Hadley had her choice, we'd spend all day outside, coming in only briefly to watch one of her three "Elmo's World" DVDs. She's not allowed to watch much TV, but we do allow one viewing per day of Elmo. Then, it's outside again, where she 1) digs in the dirt, 2) picks up rocks and says, "rock?", 3) barks at dogs, 4) points at bugs and says "bug?" and 5) wants to touch the bugs. She also likes to sit on the front porch steps. She turns around and backs up s-l-o-w-l-y as she sticks out her little bum. Then she sits down and looks very satisfied.

There's goodness in being happy just sitting on the front step, isn't there?

I just love Hadley's age. She understands so much--nearly everything I say, I'm convinced--and she responds with such earnestness and humor. I let her touch the microwave buttons the other day because there's just nothing more fun than pressing buttons, right? Well, she turned on some sort of special alarm that I couldn't turn off. She could not stop laughing at me trying to get the stupid microwave fixed (and I wasn't being funny, I assure you). Now when we walk by the microwave, she points and smiles her little mischievous smile at me. "Look out, Mama, or I'm going to use my special powers to make that microwave go crazy again."

And she talks! All the time! She loves "b" words best: balloon, bubbles, ball, back, bye-bye. But she also says hello, no-no, mama, dada, woof-woof, please ("peas!"), cheese, juice, more, apple, walk, book, shoes, Elmo ("Melmo!"), yes (we're REALLY working on "yes" to counter the facility she has with "no-no")--I can't even remember them all. I love seeing her brain just grow and develop and learn new things. It's amazing to see first-hand how a little person grows and changes each day.

And THAT, fair readers, is why I haven't been blogging. I'm helping a little person grow and develop, for heaven's sake! What more can you ask of me?

Kidding. I'll try to do better, even if it means just throwing some photos of Hadley up here for you to see. Speaking of which...

We make a lot of forts on the couch. Forts are very important for hiding things...

and for climbing in...

It's also very important to clean off the bookshelves once a day...

...in case there are any titles you no longer want to read...

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.