Eleven Meses

Oh my! You're 11 months old. One tiny hot second from a year. I can BARELY believe it. Really. I wake up everyday with this sort of "Family Man" feeling of "is this my life? How did I get here?"-Although, don't get me wrong, its an incredibly positive thing- I've exceptionally blessed, but really, how did I get HERE: two babies, a wonderful husband, ridiculous dog, comfy cozy house, happy neighborhood, great job. Then I think, wait, how did those babies get so big? 11 months you say! No, I just had him, er, um, .....

Sigh.

11 months ago.

Its funny how your development has been so incredibly standard. When all of your milestones happen I'm in awe. I admire you like you are the first baby to smile, to crawl, to stand alone. Then I go back and read Collin's post for the same month and I'm amazed every time how similar they are. Every single time. I think What? Seriously? It was the exact same thing? For example you both decided to crawl properly and stand alone all within one day. How strange is that?
You both cleared the stairs at 11 months.
Its rather strange.


Although, you're your own person too. You only have two little teeth and I wonder when you are finally going to bust through. You also endure so much as a little baby boy because your big brother interupts your fun so frequently. My heart aches for all the little bumps and bruises you bear at the hands of your brother's hands. He means well, but doesn't yet recognize that his hugs pull you off balance, or that his maneuvers to move you while crawling squash your little toes, or that taking toys away from you hurts your feelings. Oh, Owen, I hug you extra tight and remember to plaster your face with kisses because you are already have taken in stride more than I've ever expected you to at 11 months. Really, I didn't think by now you'd be able to wipe away a tear and head right back to the Thomas table to play, or bump your knees or head on any given door, toy, stair or piece of furniture and turn around to the next task without missing a step. You're a strong little boy with incredible persistence.


In some ways I think I'm finally realizing how much you are like me. JUST like me. You are SOOO stubborn. You love a good power struggle. For example, everynight I put you to bed, walking and rocking you to sleep, and lately you demand that you take the first 10 to 15 minutes of our routine to arch your back and throw yourself over my arm. You WILL NOT be cradled during this time, and no matter how hard I try you continue to throw yourself around. If I force you into being cradled you get SOOO mad and then are so mad that it takes you forever to calm down and go to sleep. So you win. I let you do it for 10 minutes, and then once you are satisfied you finally settle in to go to sleep. Its like you are saying, "I'm the boss momma. Really. Take note." You sleep well, but on your terms.

You shake your head NO often now, and for awhile you were saying "Nine, nine, nine" while doing it, so for awhlie we've been calling you our German baby. Its fairly funny to see you emphatically shake your head "No". You do it the most when we shake our heads yes. Again with your stubborness.

This month you are on the move. You crawl like its your job. Racing from here to there. Oh wait, it is sort of your job, isn't it? We can't keep up or let you out of our sight for even an instant. You mastered crawling the stairs in two days and now cruise the furniture and try to walk everyday. Its amazing how quickly you are picking it up and how anxious you are to walk.

You're liking books more and more and love our bedtime routine. This month we are anticipating a change though with the end of nursing coming toward your future at an excellerated pace. I wonder how you'll handle giving up the night nursing and going to bed without the snack.

You also think all adults are human jungle gyms. As soon as we pick you up you nestle your toes into your waistband/belt, push up and out to stand up. Its hard to wrangle you into submission before you jump off and away. You can't help but try to explore the world more and more, especially from the tips of our fingers.

You're eating a lot these days, and there isn't much you don't like. Basically you'll eat whatever we give you and everybit is real food now. Out with the baby food and in with the real deal. You love your sippy cup and have started taking milk in it, which means the bottles are on the way out.

You love to dance, to play at Collin's train table, you love to nibble and sometimes bite, hard. I'm not sure what the means for our future. I sure hope you give up the biting though. You love love love to drink water and continue to think that anything that produces water is AMAZING. You dive bomb the sinks whenever its on and get ridiculously excited when its bathtime.

Its winter now and you really don't like your winter coat. You're very much like the kids on the Christmas Story, bundled into an imobile submission. As a result you are liking your carseat less and less because you a) have to wear the big coat and b) feel doubly restricted.  It makes trips, even little ones, rather interesting.

But all in all, you're growing so much faster than I can keep up with. I wish I could spend a week's worth of time just with you, just watching and learning and talking to you. But I can't. Thats time I'd have to give up from all the rest of our family and I just can't fathom missing out on so much, but in my heart I wish I could so I could devote a small period of life to just you. All yours. Instead, we take it in pieces- I relish the time I get with you alone- When daddy takes Collin to story hour or another event. As you grow I continue to be amazed by your resilience (you accomplish so much without very much help! Part of me thinks you're a little genius, both I suppose I'm rather biased) and happiness.

I can't begin to tell you how much we love you, how much of a blessing you are and how you've taught us so much about life and love in the brief 11 months you've been here, and we know,and relish in the fact that its only the beginning!

On to 12 months we go!

Love,
Momma and Daddy

Merry Christmas 2011!

Here we are friends! Merry Christmas from our family to yours! If you read our blog (and we know about it) the liklihood of you getting one of these in the near future is pretty high :)- click on the photo if you want to see the card in its own page (and a bit bigger).

Love,
The Hollmans

Trying times...

Dear reader: I actually wrote this post on 1-8-10, a week or so after my grandma passed away. It was too raw for me to post at the time, but now, nearly two years later, I think its worth sharing.

This post is one I wish I never needed to write. But its part of our lives, so I'm sharing for two reasons, first, to be able to look back on the blog and share with Collin the events of his life that made a difference and second, to honor my grandmother, who if nothing else should have the opportunity to let the world know just how amazing she was.

A little over 4 years ago my mom and her sister suspected my Grandma's health was failing, as she, a strong and independent woman was making decisions outside the realm of her usual character. Things that just seemed a bit strange, like subscribing to astrology readings, and forgetting about food in her refrigerator until it was rancid. It was a bit strange at first, but hindsight is 20/20 and in the wake of a very significant fall, it seems my grandmother was beginning a journey into the dark depths of dementia.

Within a year and a half she was unable to continue to live alone, and was moved, begrudgingly, to an assisted living facility. This was tremendously difficult for my mom and her sister to reconcile as they tried tediously to help her as well as they could while she struggled to maintain her independence. Her partner, Bob, continued to be a pillar of support and strength in her life, holding her up, when she failed to traverse life's challenges.

After settling into the assisted living facility her family (we) began to see the true toll the dementia was taking on her life. We watch as she regressed through her years, first addressing people who have long passed, like my grandfather, and then further recalling and asking for her mother and attempting to go to her childhood home as if it was her own.

In her long and laborious struggle we tried to maintain her dignity and to highlight her charisma. After this final year, as things rapidly declined, she was faced with new challenges as her body, as a function of the dementia, began to lose functions. Yet, somewhere burried within the dark coocoon dementia had placed over her, she still was the grandma I knew and loved dearly.

On Christmas day we had hoped to bring her out to my parents home to celebrate the holiday. It was on this day that we learned she was considerably more weak than expected and was unable to eat and drink. Just a week before my mom and her sister had offered the staff at the assisted living home authority to feed her whatever she wanted, cake, ice-cream, bring on the calories, but I don't think that they had any idea it was to preface an impending struggle.

The day after Christmas my family (Drew, Colllin and I) as well as my parents, brother, sister, cousins and aunt and Uncle began a vigil around my grandmother's bedside. We learned of her lack of intake- she was not eating food nor drinking water. She appeared to be continuously sleeping, and for our family, this, as difficult as it may appears was a blessing in disguise. After two years of fighting a disease that tried again and again to rob her of her mind, her life, her memories, and her health, she was seeking peace with God in a twilight of dreams, where we hoped she was gracefully touched by those who loved her so dearly and cradled gently into a promising future.

On Tuesday, four days after Christmas, December 28th, my grandmother passed through the gates of heaven early in the morning with her daughters at her side. She is at peace now, and while I could barely recognize the finality of her death, because it was so very painful, I now am forever grateful for her peaceful passing, and that she is no longer facing the demons of dementia.

To those who knew her, I am sure you too will miss her presence in Linwood. For those of you reading who didn't know her I offer you a glimpse into who she was and how I try to honor her.

My dearest grandma,
If life represents who we are and where we come from, yours was peppered with an entire community of love, compassion and kindness, brimming over the edges of a tiny town nestled in the folds of Michigan's midwestern lure, pinpointed somewhere between the the ridge above the soft folds of a thumb and forefinger. The same way that Michigan natives find there homes on their hands, a comforting sign of recognition to all who live there, you were a comfort those who loved you most, as though we could reach over our hearts and say here too is a location I can find. Here too is how you've touched my life.

 Its a terrible injustice that someone so independent, so generous, and so anxious to care for others could spend the last years of their life nearly incapacitated, unable to care for those around her, and unable to remind the world around her of her sense of mischief coupled with love.

As I reflect on my role as a mother now, I see so much of who I am in my own mother, a product of your love. I find myself with more maternal inclination than most women, reaching out to children near and far, ultimately placing me in a career allowing me to continue that effort to care for others. When I look at Collin I can't help but see love. I see in him the efforts that Drew and I have made to love him unconditionally, to keep him close to our hearts, to sooth him in times of need, to be a catalyst for his curiosity, to nurture his independence and to support him wholeheartedly as he explores this new and exciting world. I can't help but think so much of that comes from you, comes from my learning how to be generous and kind through the relationship you had with not only me, but with my mom and those around you.

As a grandmother, your generosity stood  at the forefront of your character- always pursuing how you could help. You always led your love with our best interests at heart. How you could feed us (Are you hungry?), how we could put our best foot forward(Do you need some rouge on your lips?), how we could demonstrate manners and ettiquette (Drink your soda from a glass!). These questions, nearly petulant at the time, are often the ways I envision you now. Sitting at the kitchen table, holding out a Coke from the coal room pouring it into a small juice glass rippled with finger holds all the while asking about our lives--listening closely for the pieces that illustrated how we are intricately linked in mannerisms, joys and challenges.

Your house contains hundreds of memories that make bittersweet the notion of giving it up to another family. I draw on the little chest of drawers in the blue bedroom, the top drawer filled with baby doll clothes and socks. I inhale the smell of age and wisdom, a little bit musty, but incredibly familiar intertwined with baby powder, a contrast of new and old. I would play with the items in that drawer before curling up for a nap on the bed with a soft knitted basketweave blanket, tended by your very hands.

In the dining room the curio cupboard held the supply of candy-- always treats that seemed a generation removed, making them exotic and exciting. Ribbon candy, Bit Oh Honey, Peanut Butter kisses, circus peanuts and orange slices.

Across the way, in the family room, the ottoman and desk hold hours of our childhood playing a strange version of cards and bingo (Pokeno), Chinese Checkers and a half assembled version of Yahtzee. We entered a world of play while the adults in our lives danced around us in the holidays, Sunday afternoons and lazy day visits that orchestrated their lives.

Together these memories hold you in the background, lingering over me, always present, but never in between. Its a fantastic way to remember you, always there, always present, a comfort in our lives. A brief smile, then smirk on your face, glowing with a budding sense of mischieviousness and love.

Weaved through our lives, an intricate web of influence, you are remembered in so many ways- your hillarious antics "Hey! That's Kind of Neat!", you're more famously, yet comforting sayings "I don't want to hear a peep out of you!", your treasure trove of adventure- a laundry chute, a coal bin, a history of upstairs that contain a history of family and events and endless dark corners of a wonderous basement. We remember you for your entrances, "Yooo Hooo!", your class, your standards and how you've shared them with us, patiently accepting each one of our adolescent resistance and finally, loving encouragement and honor to be a part of your amazing world.

As I learned about who you were before my time, as a young mother, a teenage daughter, a wanderlust searching out true love, it became evident that your final role as grandmother was a brief portion of your life and I wonder how all of the challenges you faced contributed to who I am as a person-- how your own personal strife impacted how you decided to interact with your children and grandchildren. I wonder what you took from your journey that made you such an amazing person, I wonder if in a sweet dream if you could whipser to me and share your road so that I too may find my way to being such an amazing person in later ages.

Remembering who you were before your disease is much of what I focus on. I choose to see you the way I hope you find yourself as you spend eternity. I hope you are a reflection of the very best you. I hope you left this life able to reflect on your journey and see that those final days were the means to the end of a destructive disease harboring you captive and that somewhere inside, when the tangles of your brain were carefully unbraided, you would emerge as your former self.

It will continue to be an incredibly empty and somber journey for us as we progress through your passing. I ache for the way you were robbed of yourself in the end; a window to the unjust nature of life made evident that no matter how much we hoped and loved and cherished you, you were not coming back to us as the grandma we knew.And so it was that we slowly said goodbye in a way that no one should have to encounter, a slow, tedious and painful departure, small threads of you taken each day from the collective knitting of life.

I don't know that I'll ever know a way to say goodbye. Instead I keep you alive in photos and memories, sharing with Collin the life and times of Great Grandma Delorise. My heart hurts that he did not get to know you because your mischievousness is alive and well in him. I reflect on how long its taken to say goodbye in finality and when that journey began nearly two years ago. Saying goodbye for two years is challenging-- watching someone's soul leave slowly and begrudgingly is nothing short of deabilitating-- but also creates a sort of immunity in you- at some point my heart decided existing in a sort of physical purgatory was the way to hang on to you, all the while simultaneously wishing you could be easily relased to be wrapped in the comforting arms of your husband and son, making me numb, I suppose.

And so, here we are, you are finally at rest, and I'm forced to find a way to exist with you only in my heart. Know that I'll take the very best of you and share with my children. I'll sprinkle your wisdom in my work, my passions, my family and my character. I'll hold your voice, your mannerisms, your sayings in my thoughts, offering moments for replay, for integration into my daily life. I look forward to hearing your voice, your principles, your memories impacting my choices. I look forward to seeing you in my dreams. I look forward to seeing the genuine smile on your face and hearing the story of how you reunited with those you love who passed before you when I too make that journey.

I miss you already and my love for you really knows no bounds. You're such an amazing part of who I am, and I'm forever grateful for how you helped to mold me into the woman I am today.

With all my love,
Alisha

Goin' to the Chapel

Big happenins' in this family, kids.
We had a wedding!
Susie, Drew's sister and her fiance Chris Taylor made the leap into holy matrimony.
They did it Vegas style.
Okay, not really Vegas style, no Elvis, no drive through, no illegal behavior, but it was in Vegas.

We packed our family, borrowed my sister for the weekend and hopped a plane to Vegas. It was fun, exciting, tiring (mostly because the boys stayed on a Minnesota schedule the whole time we were there), and best of all a huge celebration.

We danced the night away, first at TAO (sorry, no Kardashian sisters to be found), where we were among too many ooglers and not enough personal space- (but still a fun time) and then at the wedding, with the perfect mix of family and fun peppered across the dance floor. True story. Here's the evidence.

To many many many years of wedded happiness, Chris & Susie. It was a beautiful day and we were so happy we were able to share it with you!

May God be with you and bless you.

May you see your children's children.

May you be poor in misfortune,

rich in blessings,

May you know nothing but happiness

From this day forward.

Fall Fun!

Halloween and the related festivities has come and gone, but I'm still catching up on blog posts, so bear with us as we capture the fun of the holiday nearly two weeks too late.
Oh well.
Someday I'll be all caught up and the blogs will be current.
Until then, well, you get what you get.

In October, we enjoyed the un-seasonably warm weather and took advantage of Collin's growing sense of anticipation and excitement for coming events to celebrate Halloween. We carved pumpkins, traveled out to Afton Apple Orchard with friends and toured many a Halloween stop- the Children's Museum, The Zoo Boo, and trick or treating in our neighborhood.


Halloween this year was our first taste of Collin's sense of pure joy about the unbelievable nature of holidays. Really, to a toddler, holidays are sort of like the equivalent of someone telling an adult that on any given day, if you just ask, or wake up, or say the magic words $5000.00 will land in your lap. If that were true I'd be down right giddy. And, so it is will toddlers when they first figure out the magic of these types of holidays- Halloween, Christmas, Easter.

And boy was he giddy after getting the drift about the events at hand. Our first Halloween event was the museum, and he quickly caught on that those magic words yielded some kind of fantastic surprise. Thankfully, the museum leaned away from candy (which was great, because we still don't give Collin candy. He's probably had less than 10 M&Ms total in his little life) and gave the kids fun tatoos, stickers, stamps and other trinkets. Two more Halloween parties followed suit and each day Collin got more and more excited to don his elephant costume and Trick or Treat.
This Halloween was Owen's first, and it was entirely different for him, but nearly as exciting for me. Its so fun to dress up babies and parade them around! He seemed to like it as well too, and was maybe the world's cutest monkey. I could barely stand it and I plastered his cheecks with kisses all through the boo zoo. I mean seriously, have you seen this face?  Owen has always carried his own kind of pace. He's pretty game to play along with whatever we do as long as it doesn't intercede with precious naptime. I'm pretty sure he'd be fine even if I pushed through nap time, but my own sanity concerns for his sleep always keep us to our schedule.

Halloween wasn't really any different, but having a big brother to look up to made for some excellent people-watching on Owen's part. It's really amazing how they are so alike yet so different, and how having an older brother entirely impacts who Owen really is.

Owen watches Collin, like a little hawk. Patiently observing the world around Collin, looking for the littlest cues of approval, happiness, and at the other end of the spectrum, moments of fear and anxiety to relay when to be scared or worried. On Halloween Owen looked at Collin as though he was swimming among a sea of creatures- all unknown, all potential dangers. Collin, realizing these costumes were all in good fun, smiled widely the first time he saw a character he recognized- "A gorilla, momma! It's a gorilla!" and at the same time, I was able to almost see the little wheels in Owen's brain turn, capture for a moment Collin's smile, and relax into a state of happiness. Owen, all in a few seconds discerned that this setting was okay because for the most part, Collin was happy.

Those kind of moments are so amazing as parents. I got to actually see that happen. Its like a little miracle. I don't know how else to explain it. Seriously, seeing the bonds of brotherhood form before your very eyes is amazing.

 All day Owen continued along this path. Smile, check with Collin, continue to smile. It was so adorable. I love that his first Halloween was nestled somewhere between the comfort of my arms and his brother's warm encouragement.

Halloween also tends to bring out the very large child in Drew as well (who if any of you have forgotten has a sweet tooth that draws to Halloween like an unescapable centrifical force, which means I get a brief taste of what it would be like to have three kids. I think Drew was just as excited as the boys were to go trick of treating and he took to carving pumpkins and prepping for roasted pumpkin seeds (which magically dissappeared in something like four days!) This year we carved the boys their own pumpkins, each with their name and Collin added his hands, and lately he's been all about tracing his hands. Collin tried out carving, hand over hand with Drew, but eventually decided it would be more fun to ride his tractor around with a pumpkin in the trailer.

So, Halloween rounded out nicely to be a pretty spectacular holiday filled with so many smiles by the end of the weekend my cheeks hurt. As one of the last nice weekends of the year (and by nice I mean, a no jacket nearly 70 and sunny weekend) it painted a perfect picture of fall in my memory.

It may be the first Halloween Collin ever remembers, and for Owen, it represents the first of many many more fantastic holidays, and for our little family, 2011 has been filled with an adorable zoo of animals, and our family may sometimes feel like a zoo, but we wouldn't have it any other way. These days are so very precious. And crazy. And fun. And, well, they're perfect.

 

10 months old today

Today is the day you turned 10 months old. A crisp fall day, bordering on winter, with a cold hard frost gracing the windows as I approached the outside world. You awoke this morning, stuffy and snotty, barely breathing through your little nose, as you battle your first little cold, craddled in your daddy's arms. Last night you flittered between drowsy, asleep, and downright alert between the wee hours of 3 and 5 am. Because your little nose was so stuffed you struggled to find the comfort of sleep and the only resolve ended up being the comfort of daddy's arms. After getting a few momentary dreams while you finally slept soundly, I came to you at 8 in the morning, unusually late for your morning start, and relieved daddy so he could get ready for the challenge of the morning: jury duty.

You smiled your sweet little smile, snuggled into my arms and wandered between sleep and awake before settling on rising to the occassion and morning sunshine. The crisp morning lended bright and vibrant beams, streaming through your windows like ribbons from a maypole, dancing around the room. And, so our day began.

That little toothy grin, even when you feel downright uncomfortable, is sometimes more than I can bear, because even when you are feeling awful, you bring such an amazing array of happiness to our lives. In the mornings, when you share your bit of radiance, you're still confined to your sleep sack, it being so very cold here now, so you can't get very far without getting all tangled up. I put you on the floor to roll and turn until breakfast, a few minutes in the making.

You're nearly eating all "real" food now, and its fantastic to see you independently navigate your breakfast. Pieces of fruit, cream of wheat, apple sauce and yogurt. You anxiously shovel the small pieces on your tray into your mouth, and yell in frustration at those who slip between your fingers.  As you finish breakfast and your tray becomes more and more empty you become more an more vocal about your dislike of the high chair. I'm lucky that the high chair contains you, because its the only way I am able to reach your cheeks with a washcloth. When you are away from the highchair you weave away from it as though your skin will erupt in hives if it meerly touches you. I'd be a bit heartbroken for you about it if it wasn't so absolutely ridiculous. Before your last yelp, the process is over and you quickly revert to being my happy baby, with a few bits of breakfast plastered along your pajamas.

Getting dressed has become more precarious as you are your father's son anticipating danger, pursuing it and treating my looks of anxiety like a challenge. You cling to the side of your changing table and threaten to roll off while I hang on to your ankles and try to wrangle you into a clean diaper. You writhe about, making it take twice as long as it should, but quite the adventure for you, as you giggle with delight. To tame your efforts I often give you a toy or book to look at, or play peek-a-boo with a burp cloth. For every time you anticipate being able to peek out from under the burpcloth your brim with excitement kicking and waving your arms like you are signaling an airplane. You will be a fantastic swimmer one day, the way you work your arms and legs toward an invisible finish line.

A dressed and adorable baby, it only takes a few moments before the first string of drool escapes your mouth and you've got a wet shirt, narrated by your babbles as you tell the story of how to break teeth through your gums. You still haven't been successful yet--just two on the bottom and none on top yet, but you sure are consistently soaked and always trying to aid your teeth in breaking through by biting on all things great and small.

When I put you on the floor, you are off, directly toward your brother. You're so small, yet its so aparent that you love him so much, and in a way that is different from your love and excitement for us, as parents. Seeing the little light in your eyes when he greets you and when he trys desperately hard to entertain you, or pull you through fits of reistance, is incredibly endearing and heartwarming, from both perpectives. I love to watch you admire him from a far and then suddenly realize you can become part of the moment, and quickly crawl toward whatever he is doing with the toy of the moment. These little interactions are beginning to form the opportunity for future tussles over who gets to play with what toy, and I can see them happening before my very eyes, but for now, I'm just enjoying the way you interact and enjoy each other's company. There isn't a day that goes by that I have to tell Collin he's given you enough hugs for the day and that you don't like to be hugged so much so that it restricts your movement. I hope that when he is older he reflects on the way he doted on you and adored you as a baby, its an amazing bond.

Your nap times have become more of a wandering experiment in exploring the enviornment as I simultaneously try to force you to close your eyes and sleep. I hold you tight, forcefully tight to my body, because without this bear hug, you spread out, reach above your head and wave your fingers about as though they are tentacles feeling for bits of new experience. I try to hold you in and bounce you into a window for sleep, but you hum and haw until your body finally agrees its time to sleep. These days I often have to cover your face with a light blanket because you'll crane back your head and examine every part of your room as though you've never seen it before. Its like a little light turned on in your brain and you're suddenly noticing everything. Which is okay, because we know you're working overtime to learn all about the world, but at the same time, I really want you to take a nap, so we go back and forth until you give in for an hour and a half or so of sweet dreams.

After nap, you rise and shine with the happiest of grins, ready and anxious to take on the next challenge of our day. Playing seems to make your soul shine and you spend so much time scaling toys as I hang on to your little legs. You're becoming more and more brave, leaning on your learning table and precariously turning around, balancing for the briefest of moments all by yourself. You love to chew on your pops and snaps, nibble on books, and explore more everyday all through the avenues accessible to your little and drool filled mouth. Today you go through three outfits just because they have become so soaked with drool that they've turned ice cold.

Lunch and naptime are reflections of the earlier portion of the day, today chewing along on homemade chicken noodle soup, yogurt and cheese bit,  but now each effort encounters a bit more resistance, because as the day goes on, your curiosity grows exponentially. You can't get enough of this world, and we truly can't get enough of watching you enjoy and absorb so much. Today you're nursing around every 4 to 4.5 hours and I've been thinking a lot lately about cutting back a feeding, becuase now, at 10 months we are getting dangerously close to the end of this journey. I know that if we don't start the process now, taking nursing away cold turkey will make for some long evenings, so I imagine in the near future, you'll protest the fewer feedings. While I love nursing and the bond that is part of that relationship, but I'm also very anxious to be freed of carrying around the black Medela bag that has become my third appendage.

So, the day continues on, another nap, a greeting from daddy as he returns from jury duty, and toward the end of the afternoon a special visit from your new nanny, Ariel, who will join the ranks of our family in the coming weeks. When you met her for the first time, I saw a bit of anxiousness, which is both heartbreaking and exciting at the same time. Heartbreaking because it makes me ache to think that you will be a little bit scared and anxious as I leave you with a new person for the first time, and exciting to see another developmental milestone occur, with attachment taking the front row seat in your life, and you're behavior letting us know that we're being a secure base from which to explore.

Before long, we're at the dinner table, and you're enjoying beef pilaf while the rest of our family eats a mishmash of weekly leftovers- quiche, dinner salads, soups such, cleaning up the last of the refridgerator remnants before another effort to fill the shelves begins again. We would have liked to share the quiche, but given the potential egg allergy problems that can challenge infants, we thought tonight would be better off as a babyfood evening, and so you get the final taste of the few stage 3 jars left in our house.

Once you're settled in your pajamas and sleep sack, a set of socks on your hands for mittens because its been so very cold as of late, we nestle into the rocking chair to nurse and read night time stories. We always end with the Going to Bed Book and every night it amazes me to watch you search the pages and contentedly stare at each character with such concentration. Each night this feels like a little glimpse into your brain, as I watch your eyes dart around the pages and see you absorb the words and story that transpires as we turn the pages.

And then, as quickly as it began, the end of the day is here, the lights are down low, and its time to close up shop and visit your sweetest of dreams. I wonder what you dream about, what could a 10 month old possibly have running through their mind each evening, and I hope and pray they are happy thoughts for bring tomorrows, hugs and kisses from mommy and daddy and Collin and excitement for another beautiful day in our family. As you drift off, I take a deep, genuine exhale and prepare myself for the last leg of my day- clean up and closing loops with bills, blogs, dishes, cleaning etc. At these moments, as I put you down in your crib, softly sleeping, I can't help but think that this is exactly where I'm supposed to be in this life, that some force, bigger than me, has aligned the stars to allow me to be the momma to these amazing little boys, and every day I am incredibly thankful.

Thank you Owen, for being so sweet, amazing, happy and content.
You make our lives a blessing, and we can't wait to see what 11 months brings our way.
all our love
Momma and Daddy

9 months

For all the readers: I actually wrote this post when Owen turned 9 months, making it appropriate for that time, but still reads as though its current (since I'm just posting it now as we didn't have access to the adorable photos that go with it!). 10 months is the same way and will appear on the blog very soon.

Dear Owen,

Here we are, a mirror image of the time it took to create you, as the time you've been in this fantastic world. 9 months is an adventure in parenting, teaching us about your independence and individuality. 9 months has opened the door to many new opportunities and challenges and loads of fun, love and happiness.
 I can barely stand your cuteness right now, you always have an amazing smile plastered across your cheeks. Its so beaming and bright that sometimes I think your cheeks must ache the way mine do when I've spent hours laughing. I know I say it every month, but its worth repeating that you are such an easy baby. You enjoy spending time with Collin, watching his every move, taking in and evaluating how you can position yourself to learn to follow along at his pace. You are such an adored addition to our lives, reminding me how lucky we are to have such a happy family.

These days you sleep from 6:30 to 5:30, then again to 7 if your brother will let you. You two have internal radar, and just as soon as he pops his little eyes open in his bed, even if he hasn't made the tiniest little peep, you too rise and shine. Without fail, every morning I watch the video monitors in Collin's room and yours to see you both wake up simultaneously. The only way around this is if the moment I see Collin stir I sneak down, scoop him up and take him into the basement. Its only then that you'll even think about sleeping longer. I cherish the days that you do though, as I still worry about how many hours of sleep you get.

You usually don't last long in bed with me in the mornings anymore, as after you nurse, you're mostly interested in telling us, loud and clear, that sleeping in our bed isn't such a good idea. Lots of yelling and sassiness, pulling my hair and rolling, quickly and quietly, like a stealth baby toward the edge, as if it say, "fine, if you won't play with me, I'm just going to jump off the bed". We reel you back in by your ankles and before long one of us is taking you back to your room to rock until you slip off to dreamland.

Once we're up for the day we usually begin the morning with books. You have your favorites and will listen contently, but for most you'd rather grab the pages and taste them. Everything is in your mouth these days, being tasted and textured with teethmarks from your two little teeth. You love standing at your music table and leaning against the couch, playing with the shaky eggs and rattles and sitting amongst a circle of toys that are withinn your reach. You crawl to your preference (army style, reach and pull), pivot and move in a new direction. Its pretty hilarious to watch. Rarely you use your knees. I think you are so efficient now with your army crawl that you really won't move on to regular crawling, instead you'll head into walking. Mornings are plastered with adorable kisses, as you try to plant one on my cheek, open mouthed and full of slobbery drool. It appears as though maybe you are trying to eat my cheeks, but I like to think its just your kisses. You are so adorably affectionate, hugging and holding on tightly to us as we hold you close. Like a baby bear scaling a tree, you wrap yourself around my arms and cling to me with one hand, your little finger nails clawing into my skin like little anchors, while using the other to grab anything within reach. Secure base from which to explore, I suppose.

After a half hour of watching you explore the world we head to breakfast, where Collin entertains you in the highchair.You dislike being contained in your highchair and usually yell at us when we don't give you something to shovel into your mouth the moment you sit down. For the 5 minutes it takes me to get Collin started on his breakfast, you eat yogurt puffs and fresh fruit, usually telling us how your day will go in baby babbles and cadences of mama mama mama nana dada. I love watching you focus on getting those small pieces of fruit, pears, bananas, raspberries, into your little mouth to savor. You're eating baby yogurt and lots of stage 3 jarred foods now, slowly transitioning to real table food for all your meals.

After breakfast, we get you cleaned up, which you absolutely hate. It hurts, terribly bad, to be clean. You protest everytime I touch the wash cloth to your little face as though it burns, letting me know how awful it is to be cleaned up. If I do this while you are still in the highchair its doubly traumatic, with the combined hatred of being in the highchair without food in hand and the washcloth on your little cheeks.

But, soon after, you've forgotten about your disdain, and we're in changing your diaper and getting dressed for the day. I try carefully to leave the breakfast remenants on your pajamas, rather than allowing you to hug me and share the smashed bananas, pears and raspberries. At least once a week I get to work and find that I wasn't successful and there is the tiniest of breakfast treats plastered on my shoulder, saved especially for me, like an afternoon snack. We then make our way into Collin's room to work through the same routine with him, while you take full advantage of his toys, quickly crawling to the trucks and cars, anxiously putting all of the small pieces in your mouth, all the while staring at me out of the corner of your eye as if to say "don't worry mom, I'm just tasting it a little." We play, as a threesome for a bit, until its time for your morning nursing and nap, which usually happen about 8:30 or so. You've settled into a nice hour to hour and a half morning nap. I'm so thankful that this routine has finally appeared in your life, because for awhile there, I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to be confident you were getting enough sleep. You're such a happy baby though, we've begun to think that we must be doing at least an okay job.

You settle into my arms, little hand tucked around my back, hanging on in the tiniest of hugs as I cradle you and walk/bounce you to sleep. It isn't very often that you let me rock you anymore, you want to be moving, and so, I dance you around the room with Parsley the puppy tucked between your check and my chest, until you drift off to sleep. As your brother plays quietly in his room, I get a few moments to myself with you to admire your sleeping face, and remember, everyday how blessed we are, if just for a brief moment. Its amazing to think that just last month we were wrangling you out of a sleep wrap, as it seems so very far in the distant past now. You're getting so big, so fast. I wish I could capture it all in my memory, to play back like a home video at my own disposal, but alas, the best I can do is hang on to brief moments, and record every tiny bit of love and happiness in places like our blog.

Once you are asleep I take Collin downstairs and enjoy some time with him, playing with bristle blocks, coloring, painting, playing with play-doh... this list goes on. I often think about how you'll be as brothers as you grow, Collin adores you in a way that I never expected. His heart is  so big and generous, and you seem to fill it right up with happiness. He's often trying to make you happy, playing peek a boo, or trying to appease you when you're scolding us from your high chair.

When you rise and shine, we play so more. You really enjoy rattles and music, dancing along like a little rumba baby, and you particularly love the Thing-A-Majigs, which are these small animal things that sing when you squeeze their bellies. You often chase the toys that aren't yours and are exploring dangerous territory, making a beeline for outlet covers in the outlets on the wll, or pulling yourself into precarious positions, like under your rocking chairs footstool.

Our day continues on in a pattern of play, eat, sleep, play, eat, sleep. From playtime, to luch, to afternoon nap. Greeting your daddy, whom you adore and beam with excitement to see (as you nearly bounce out of my arms, waving your hands around as if to signal him, "over here! over here! I missed you!"), to exploring the afternoon warmth of fall as we prepare for dinner and evening bedtime routine. Fall crashes in on us with an evening curtain of dusk, reminding us that its time to wind down and put the day to bed.

Having Fridays through Mondays to spend with you has been fantastic, as I don't feel as though my working impeeds my mommy-hood as much as it used to. I can rationalize being away only on Tuesday, Wednesdays and Thursdays, allowing me to keep up with the work I do ( and remain so invested in) but also feel as though I'm being a good mommy.

Every month I try to pinpoint the signficant changes in your life, little mini-milestones, like teeth (all two of them!), your habits and such, but really, its been so difficult for me to see the other changes, they seems to just suprise me, and I continue to wonder how we arrived. How did you get so much older? Where did this little personality come from? When exactly did these likes and dislikes develop? Last Tuesday? Its a sneaky little journey this first year, moving from such a tiny infant, to a toddling baby. I hate that I can't hold on to it tighter. As it turns out, you grow no matter what we do. We're along for the ride. We try to keep up by smothering you with love, kisses and hugs, everday, so you know that this journey represents some of the best parts of our lives.

I'm not sure how we got here, or where life will take us in the next 30 days, but are so in love with you Owen, that it doesn't really matter because we're permanent fixtures in this journey. We'll take it in stride and embrace every moment of it as your parents to help you grow and be successful. You're the brightest most amazing little baby I know, and we love love love love you to pieces.

Happy 9 months.
love

Momma and Daddy

The Great Minnesota Get Together 2011

It actually snowed here today. Ish. Snow. Only a few flakes, but still.
I'm so not ready for snow. Pretty much I'm in sheer denial.
So, how about a post from the heart of summer days?

One of the very best parts of Minnesota is the state fair, nestled in the heart of summer. Its ones of the fondest memories I carry through the winter to remind me of why on Earth we have chosen to live in this God Forsaken Frozen Tundra wonderful place. Two weeks of pure, unbridled gluttony, fun and childhood excitement. The state fair embodies every storybook image of fair-going, cotton candy, 4H, corn dogs, Ferris wheels, soda fountains, midways and rodeos.

The state fair is an anomaly in fair going because it is unlike an other state fair in the nation. People who do not live in Minnesota seem to have a difficult time grasping the enormity of the fair because state fairs in many other states are mediocre at best compared to the Great Minnesota Get Together, with only Texas surpassing it in size. The Minnesota state fair likely attracts the most people for the amount of time it is open (1.6 million people in 2 weeks) and everytime we go, even multiple times in a week, we find ourselves in awe of the amazing hoards of people who come out of the woodwork to visit everything from local canning competitions, butter carvings, a taste of deep fried bacon, rooster crowing competitions to Grand Stand performances. Really, its nothing short of a miracle in people watching.

This year we decided to share the fun with my parents, so they came for a long weekend where we celebrated my dad's birthday and spent a whole day at the fair, which is not nearly enough to visit even half of the fair properly, and by the time we left, my feet ached, it was the second full day I had spent on the grounds (we had taken Collin for a full day of fun earlier in the week) and I still felt like there were so many things that we didn't see.

They had never been to our fair, so we did it up right and started out bright and early, boarding the bus at a wee 8:30 am with Collin nearly crawling out of his skin with excitement to get to the fair. This year was particularly fun for us because it was the first time Collin was able to grasp the excitement around the fun of the fair.

To make the best of it for Collin and avoid the tremendous cluster f**k hoards of people, we took him on a Tuesday, Senior day, early in the morning, thinking that the lines wouldn't be too terribly long on the kiddie rides since Seniors don't find their way to bumper boats and the swing ride all too often. He absolutely adored the fair. It was like stimuli

overload. When we arrived we went over to the little hands farm where kids get to interact with pretend animals on a farm and a milk a pretend cow. Collin was overwhelmed with the fun before him and walked around with a perpetual smile plastered to his face. He carried his adorable silver bucket, tucked in next to the pocket on his little farmer's apron. We walked from each activity to the next with Collin hanging on to my fingertips anxiously stretching away to move on to the next bit of fun. 

We spent that day ensared in the draws of the fair, cheese curds, animal barns, rides and baby animals, and by the time we went home I could barely believe the glow eminating from Collin. He was just so happy, and there before me, it seems, was the making of the first memory that Collin will be able to recall as an adult. To impact your child's life on a daily basis at some point becomes so natural that we glance over the moments that will matter when they are 10 or 20 years old. But, here, before my very eyes I could nearly see it happening.                                                                                          

      It wasn't more than a week later that Nana and Papa came and we made our way to the fair. Since Collin had already been, his anticipation was taking over his little brain, with every other phrase ending or beginning with "at the state fair?" He crawled out of bed, ready to get his shoes on and head out the door, and lucky for Collin we weren't too far behind. By 8:15 we had boarded the bus, which was all part of the fun, and made our way to the grounds.

Part of preparing to go to the fair is planning out all of the fun things to see- the 4H buildings full of amazing exhibits, the dealerships of everything you can imagine, the buildings of infomercial products and the many other sites and sounds of state fair fun, but the other, and likely more important part of the fair is planning out what you are going to eat. What new thing to try, what tried and true standard to eat: (read CHEESE CURDS!) and where the strange and bizzare foods are found. Its such a big deal that the state fair webpage has a "food finder" search engine to help you seek out all of your favorite flavors.

So we found our foods- chocolate waffles with carmels and whipped cream on a stick, standard fav- cheese curds, deep fried cookie dough, Sweet Martha's cookies, turkey legs on a stick, to name a few. So, we started out and made our way toward the morning stop: waffles. It was a brisk morning, so the warm waffles made for a perfect start.Then we wandered to one of Collin's favorite stops- the John Deere dealerships where he could sit on and admire dozens of tractors, bulldozers and farming accessories.  Collin tried out the bulldozer and found the seat rather cozy. I think it rubbed off on him a bit, because ever since he's been obsessed with all things construction, naming bulldozers, excavators, backhoes, dump trucks...

  Then we wandered over to the Miracle of Life barn where momma animals and their babies take up residence for two weeks to be born and visited. Collin just loved the barn, because all of the new additions were accessible for petting and holding. He went from calf to calf noting how new it was and how cute it was. Not too far from the calf were the new baby lambs, all white and fuzzy, and a few steps further were the baby goats, which were many the most adorable animals in the whole building. Well, the baby piglets were pretty cute too, and had it not been that we were shoulder to shoulder with all the other Minnesotans in the state we might have spent even longer in the building taking another round at all the adorable and cuddly babies.

Before long it was time for a few rides, and Collin and Drew were in line for the Giant Slide. Waiting the 10 minutes to get to the top and watching all of the kids ahead of him slide down, Collin found himself anxious to go again, "more, daddy! more!". All the while, Owen was holding his own as our easy and happy baby, along for the ride. I know that this year won't be a year that he remembers, but it is his very first time to the fair, and it was extra special to be there as a family, together. He did especially well, riding along in the stroller and napping in the jump seat with a blanket to hide the streaming sunlight. Somedays I can't get over how easy Owen is and how happy he wanders through his life. Owen smiled at the baby animals, smiled at the people, smiled for cheese curds, waved his arms in excitement and enjoyed all of the fresh air as though the day was designed for him. Having two exuberantly happy boys made for two especially grateful parents.

   As the day went on, we wandered passed many food kisoks and stopped frequently for afternoon treats and lunch, found our way to the carrousel, the train, the wild west show, the crazy chickens, the stinky sheep and lots and lots of new sights and sounds. We rounded out our day with a visit to the butterfly house, which is fantastic for a toddler, but a bit awful for parents, realizing that the butterflies in the house are often squished and killed by tiny toddler hands.  Collin, though, with and easy temperament, approached the butterflies tentatively and carefully reached out to let them land on him. I imagine those butterflies in many ways share things with our little boys, so anxious and excited for the world around them, carefully confined to a space, but big enough to spread their wings and fly.

  And so, 2011 and the Minnesota state fair was a success. We stuffed ourselves silly, enjoyed a fabulous week (and day with my parents) and created the best memories to carry through these cold cold winters. 

We'll miss you, State Fair. Until we meet again.