Happy Trails

In just a matter of hours, Baby A is taking her first trip out of town! She's quite excited about it too. Our little family is traveling to Michigan to visit with friends. Lucky for our dear girl, there will be playmates for her too. Even a dog that she can harass, much like our beloved pooch.

Her bags are packed, and she's ready to go!

Puppy Love

There was a time in my life when my ultimate companion was my dog. I picked him out at a pet store when he was only two months old in 1994 and he's been with me ever since. He's been a great pal too--in his younger days, we spent our time camping, hiking, walking through the many neighborhoods I've lived in 14 years, and running around the family clubhouse's lakes.

Surprisingly, after all of these years, my old pal is still with us, although not as frisky as in years past. What I find so endearing is that Baby A adores him. Wherever he goes, she goes. Since she's not yet crawling, she rolls after him, climbs on top of him, or does whatever it takes to be near him. She loses interest in whatever she's doing when the dog's around. And boy does he make her giggle. His mere presence sends her into fits of laughter. And the dog has to be near her play area during the day, as if he might miss out on all the fun. Besides being her playmate, or rather plaything, he's her great protector, and has been since we brought her home. It's really sweet to see how they interact with each other. They have become quite the dynamic duo.

In the name of love

My mother noted the other day that my husband seems to have aged since the birth of Baby A. And that got me thinking about the age-old question: Which came first, the chicken or the egg? You see, if our dear daughter has visibly aged him in only seven months (side note: God help him get through her puberty and high school years), I would certainly have had a hand in that at least nine months prior to that (if not sooner, knowing me and my oh-so-charming personality).

But my hubby is a real trooper. He never complains, is willing to pitch in around the house, can't wait to play with our Baby Girl every single day, and takes good care of me. So what if we give him a few gray hairs now and then? It's all in the name of love.

Could it be love?

Had a lovely lunch out with some dear friends the other day. I brought Baby A so she could meet my friend's son, who is about three months older than my little one. I was hoping the little bambinos would hit it off so that my friend and I could plan a playdate as I was feeling the need to get out of the house and have a little fun.

Little did we know, while the ladies lunched and munched and played ketchup, the kiddos were making googly eyes at each other from across the table. They were very subtle about it too, as Baby Girl was for once being shy and demure (it's all an act I tell ya) and her new little buddy was letting everyone in the restaurant know that it was one of the happiest days of his life, because finally, he'd met the one. And once they were face to face, it was as if the entire world stopped turning on its axis, and it was just the two of them, face to face, playing footsie with each other, and laughing all the while.

As you can see, it was love at first sight.

Blog Action Day 2008 Poverty

Blog Action Day 2008 Poverty from Blog Action Day on Vimeo.

Daddy's Girl

Before I got pregnant with Baby A, my husband and I had a discussion about what our expectations were for each other as parents. I wanted him to be a hands-on dad, and that did not include just changing diapers and preparing bottles, but getting involved in our child's life. In my mind I could see the two of them playing catch in the backyard, fishing on the lake at the family clubhouse, and playing tennis at the park, etc.; all of these, together.

Little did I know that was part of the plan all along. My husband surprised us all those first few days after our daughter was born. While I was in the hospital after giving birth via C-section my honey stepped up and took care not only of me, but of our baby girl too. And his role as caregiver hasn't changed one bit, except now there's a bit of fun added in. Nowadays he rocks her to sleep, swims in the pool with her, and introduces his favorite sports to her (she's a big fan of the Blues and the Cardinals, and has been exposed to the "Phelps Effect" much like the rest of the United States who've been itching for their Olympics fix).


Baby Girl loves to spend time with her daddy, and looks forward to his return home from work each day. She enjoys watching him come up the stairs from the garage, and then the greeting begins. It's really cute to watch, but at this point, I'm just a bystander. Once he arrives I become the proverbial piece of chopped liver, because she only has eyes for him. But honestly, I don't mind. Especially since I get her all to myself each weekday, and poor daddy has only a few hours each evening to play with her. Besides, as she and I have that unbreakable mother-daughter bond that just is, she and her daddy have a different, but equally unshakable relationship that has been beautiful to see flourish.

We are richly blessed, and extremely fortunate, by the addition of Baby A to our family. She has brought out the best in the both of us, as she has touched each of us in a special way that is indescribable. As our personalities shape hers, she in turn has been shaping ours. And all I know at this moment in time is that the best is yet to come.

The meaning of music

Everyone in my family has some kind of musical talent, it must be genetic. My mother sings, plays piano, guitar, and saxophone; my grandmother also sang and played piano and organ. I sing and play piano, and did a short stint as a sax player. My daddy and I would perform (in the comfort of our own living room) '70s-style karoake, singing duets of Loretta Lynn & Conway Twitty covers. And I have aunts, uncles, cousins, and half-brothers and -sisters who also have the "knack." The love of my mother's life, Willie Richardson, was the consummate blues musician, who never really got his due. But that's a story for another day. Willie was an axeman. And so is my husband, and some of my friends (even if it is RockBand, LOL!).

So my dear Baby A is growing up in a household that is filled with music. On any given day, depending on my mood, we'll listen to everything from U2 to Mozart to Coltrane to Cash. And already at seven months my Baby Girl wants to play, with something, anything, that makes noise. It's a joy to watch her play with "instruments," which originally included blocks and balls with tiny bells inside that she could shake up. Now she's moved up to the Baby Einstein blocks, which she absolutely adores.

Now I am convinced that she too may have the music gene. During a playdate the other day she instantly knew how to play a set of bongos, although she'd never seen them before. And then tonight, I pulled out an old little tykes xylophone (thanks to the CPH flea market), and she immediately put the wand in her mouth (as babies due), but with a little guidance, she began to play each bar.

Her technique wasn't quite in tune, and my husband thought it was a little pitchy, (he's been watching way too much Idol), but it was music to my ears. I enjoyed seeing her delight in a new toy, and a musical one at that. And yes, music is obviously an important part of my family. I am so blessed that I have had the opportunity to study instruments and chorus while in school, because when my daughter enters school those programs may not even be available. It's a shame really, because music means so much to so many people. It could be someones livelihood, a way to pass the time, a passion, an outlet, a way to educate, a way to express your love. So music to me is many things, but right now, it's an indelible connection between me and my daughter, who I love with all my heart, and I savor all those times that I can sing her to sleep, or sing her a morning greeting. That's what music means to me.

Red-Letter Day

By definition, a Red-Letter Day is simply a memorable day. This happened to be one of those days.

Although I'm still "off duty" due to the ankle, Baby A & I managed to get in some quality playtime, right here at home. She was in the brightest of moods, as if today was her day to shine, and nothing would stand in her way to making the most of the beautiful day.

I had the joy of being there for her when she woke up this morning, which is one of those moments I have always treasured. Just those first few minutes when she wakes up and I'm the first person she sees and she grins the biggest grin on earth. And that child is truly happy to see me. My heart overflows with love when that happens. And then after her typical morning routine we brought out her toys and laid them on a blanket. Depending on her mood, she'll either lay there and roll around or sit up and reach for her toys. Today, much like yesterday, she was all over the place, rolling from one part of the living room to another, just because she can (I am woman hear me roar!).

But she was so sweet today, playing with me in my prostrate condition, even going so far as being patient with me because I couldn't get to her toys fast enough. Thank God for these times in our lives that bring so much joy and peace. I am so blessed and in love with this sweet child of mine (yes, even Axl Rose knew what he was talking about when he wrote that one).

Roll with it baby

Although recent events have limited my ability to assume mom duties, and the Grandmothers have officially taken over the household and my child, I find myself still wanting to get down and play with Baby A. How could I not? Those moments with Baby A are some of the best, what they would call back in the day, "Red Letter Days."

By this afternoon I'm gettin' the vibe that Baby A is missin' mom time too. So what does she do? My darling daughter starts rolling toward me, wherever I happen to be laid up at the moment. At the tender age of 7 months she's not crawling, but that baby can roll. No subtlety there, she is her mother's daughter, after all. She wants my attention, so she just rolls on over and gets it. And even though I'm livin' large and in charge in pain city, nothing makes me feel happier than that child seeking ME out to play. It was a beautiful day.

Leave of Absence

God is trying to send me a message, but I certainly don't know what it is. Maybe that I shouldn't be a stay at home mom and I am better suited for just lying around, doing nothing.

I'm getting this vibe because at 2:00 AM Saturday morning I fell down a flight of stairs at our house. It was one of those moments where I could honestly say, "I've fallen and I can't get up." I had to crawl back up the stairs because my left foot hurt so bad that I couldn't put any pressure on it at all. And being the martyr I am, I refused to call out for help for fear of waking Baby A.

So I suffered in silence for hours, got no sleep, and was all worried about a pool party for some friends that we were supposed to have. After watching my inability to walk or even hold Baby A, my darling husband scolded me into going to the ER to have the foot checked out. After four to five hours before even being seen by a doctor, in less than five minutes this doc informed us that the foot wasn't broken, just badly sprained. Lucky me. Now I have to wear a splint and use crutches to get around, which is simply ridiculous for the girl who failed flag corps. because she kept hitting herself upside the head with the flagpole. This girl here don't just fall down stairs, she falls up 'em too. So tell me exactly how am I supposed to used crutches? I'm 36 for Pete's sake, and thank God, never had the chance to use them. I think I'll be scootin' around the house like Baby Girl does.

So I am taking a leave of absence from the stay at home mom gig, at least for three days according to my doctor's note (for real!). I wish I could claim workers comp, but I was checking on the cat, not the baby, so no go.

This could also be seen as comical and/or ironic because the exact same thing happened two years ago during the time between working at the magazine and CPH. Same exact thing. Fell down a flight of stairs for no good reason. This cyclical thing has got to go.

So much for my four hour a day workouts. And one good thing--my blood pressure was at a healthy, low level for me. And I didn't stress out like I could have. So I feel like I'm on the road to wellness, all things considered. Unless that's the pain meds talking.

I haven't broken the news to my boss yet (Baby A). She's gonna be pissed. Thank God Grams is taking her for a day or so to give me a reprieve since I'll be taking a leave of absence for three days. What a hoot.

And it turned out to be such a beautiful weekend, too. I was sure the party could go on with me hobbling on one foot, as long as I can hang out in a floating loung chair in our pool with a BIG honkin' margarita in my hand. Who needs pain pills when you have Tequila?!

Four hours a day x 30 days a month for a non-celebrity = CRAZY!

The main reason I made the life-altering decision to become a stay-at-home mom is, as we all know, Baby A, the love o' my life.

There were various other reasons, but at the top of the list was my health, which I've battled one issue or another for years. I've pretty much taken it in stride 'til now, but with my Baby Girl in my life, I have vowed to get well not only for my sake, but for hers too. My father died at the tender age of 39, and I've always feared that I would die an early death as well (morbid much?!). So as I approach that age (it won't be long now, e-gads!), I'm feeling the urgency to get on the wellness bandwagon, stat.

This week's appointment with my back specialist was a doozy. The past few appointments have been demonstrations in extreme pain, and this is supposed to be a pain management center, ha! But this week I was given a reprieve, no procedures, just homework. Homework? WTF?! For the next four weeks I am supposed to work out, I kid you not, four hours a day. Every freakin' day, for a month. Walk, swim, lift weights, yoga, whatever can take up four hours out of my day. Which is laughable because the first hour of my day is spent easing my body into walking, for real. I'm in so much pain every morning that it takes at least an hour before I'm mobile. Not to mention the fact that I'm just a regular Joe, er, Jane, not some hot-to-trot celebrity who hires people to do all the "normal" stuff we "normal" people do and then has a highly paid personal trainer who would welcome four hours of "working" said celebrity. But as RuPaul would put it, I'm gonna work it girl, celebrity or no.

Anyway, today I didn't use a stopwatch, but I managed to work up a sweat simply doing household chores (thank you, Baby A, for taking a long nap), doing yoga and The 5 Tibetans, and swimming. I may take a short walk around the cul-de-sac before bed just so I can say I did it.

I pray that the effort I put into this will pay off big time and not make me feel worse than before. But I have a feeling that this was all part of God's plan. And I'm OK with that.

Office Space

No, I'm not referring to one of my favorite movies about corporate cubicle hell. I'm referring to my new office digs. Yes, for those of us stay-at-home moms, it's the little things in life that bring us joy.

Since starting this blog and with freelance copywriting on the horizon, I have felt the need for my very own office space, minus the cubicle walls, thank you very much. As a woman with simple needs and of the low-maintenance variety, I simply needed my own space that allowed me to create. That's it. No bells and whistles. Just something that said, "Steph was here." So with little time to create a space just for me in a spare room or in our basement, my husband and I chose the kitchen which seems to be the catchall room anyway. The space itself is quite small, but I'm stoked that I finally have my own space, that's just for me. And I am confident that I'm not alienating myself from the family so if they need me, I'm here.

I'm such a dork that I get excited about these things but it really means the world to me to have a place I can call my own. Especially for my writing, which has always been a part of me, even when I tried for it not to be, it will always be a part of me because it's who I am. And here I am. And here is my office space.

Ya Gotta Have Friends

As I embark on my new journey, feeling a little friendless although I have many friends throughout the country, I remember the saying, "Make new friends, but keep the old, one is silver and the other is gold." I'll be missing the daily contact with friends and coworkers that I thrived on at work. But as I explore the world that is inhabited with stay at home moms I dare not lose those past friends who helped shape me into the woman I am today.

So just as mommy needs friends, so does Baby A. Since my last day at work was just this past Friday, we haven't had many scheduled playdates, but have managed to hang out with my good friend's son (Baby A thinks he's a little hottie) and bonus, they don't live too far away. He's three months older than Baby A, so while her little man friend is hot roddin' around, our little miss is just spinnin' her wheels. But her new little buddy gave her the tools and the confidence to sit up on her own, without the help of her dear ole mom. How cool is that? The only potential problem I see arising is that this kid, even at 9 months, is a diehard Cubs fan. That's like mixing oil and water in this town. But he's so dang cute. We may have to overlook it for awhile.

God has blessed me with some wonderful friends who have resurfaced from the past, some who have been by my side for years, and some who I am newly getting acquainted with. I've had so much fun through the years with a who's who of people from every walk of life. And that has made all the difference, as Robert Frost said. I never thought that anyone understood me, but all along we were all struggling to be ourselves in a world that made it hard to be anyone but. I pray that God blesses sweet Baby A with as diverse a group of friends as He has me.

The first day of the rest of my life

My first day as a stay at home mom. To say that it was a change of pace is an understatement of gross proportions. My new boss, Baby A, woke me promptly at 7:30 am, the time I would normally be starting my day at the office.

I think I'm on a high right now that I'm afraid will wear off in a matter of time. It's a shame that reality has to set in and ruin my bliss. Because I must say, today was a perfect day. Baby A & I had so much fun playing, strolling, napping, singing, dancing, and visiting friends, that I couldn't imagine a more enjoyable way to spend our time together.

I feel so blessed that I have the good fortune (and support of my husband) to stay at home with our Baby Girl. I feel like I've already missed out on so much. But no more. Even today, our little sweetie sat up on her own, with no help from me. How cool is that?! And to think had I been at work I would have missed it.

And I love work, I really do. I felt like I was entering a new phase in my job that held so many possibilities for me. But in those great opportunities often come great sacrifice, and I simply refuse to do that to myself and my family anymore. Right now, life is about me, my child, my hubby, and friends and family. And I couldn't be happier.

This, my friends, is the life.