Month: December 2008

The outdoors have always soothed Sophie. In the early months, late in the afternoons when I would be at a loss as to what I could do to calm her, I’d taker her outside. We’d sit together on our front porch, rocking, looking at the leaves. She seemed mesmerized by them. And as much as I love winter and its possibilities for snow, I was so sad for Sophie to lose her leaves. So my mom and I made some for her.

Much of our instruction and inspiration came from The Purl Bee.

I bought a fat quarter bundle of Amy Butler fabric from her Midwest Modern Collection.

My mom found leaf patterns online, which we printed, cut out, transferred to brown paper bags and then cut those out.

We then, with pencil, traced our leaf patterns onto the fabric.

And then we cut and cut and cut.

Sophie had one of her best days. She played with her toys on her quilt (although Nini took frequent breaks to play with her).

My mom sewed the many, many leaf and flag shapes together. Then, Friday night, Andy hung the garland in Sophie’s nursery.

I love it. I think it looks better in person, but you get the idea.

Sophie loves it, too.

“Every leaf speaks bliss to me, fluttering from the autumn tree.” —Emily Bronte

Sophie is officially on the move. She’s not crawling up on her knees yet, but she scoots well enough on her stomach that if we look away for even a moment, she’s somewhere new. I, in turn, have gone crazy cleaning and vacuuming, fearful of every dog hair, pine tree needle, carpet fuzz and crumb on the floor. It doesn’t help that Sophie is absolutely terrified of the vacuum (I wait until Andy comes home). It’s getting really fun. Her personality is so big, her actions and reactions so much more calculated, her way of communicating with us so much clearer. It’s the shared moments, the eye contact and smile, I now treasure most—well, when she’s still enough for us to share it.

“It kills you to see them grow up. But I guess it would kill you quicker if they didn’t.” —Barbara Kingsolver

“You better watch out
You better not cry
Better not pout
I’m telling you why
Santa Claus is coming to town.” —Haven Gillespie

Tonight I met my good friend Jenna for a glass of wine. Andy put Sophie to bed. I felt so light walking out of the restaurant, without diapers, without my nursing cover, without burp cloths, an extra onesie and wipes. Without baby Tylenol (just in case), without a thermometer (just in case), without nail clippers, diaper rash cream and baby lip balm (just in case). Without a carrier, without a baby coat, without a baby hat. Without thinking about the last time I nursed her or fed her or changed her. Without wondering if she was going to go to sleep, without worrying if she was going to wake up, without making sure the toy I gave her was still with her and not in the parking lot. Without singing songs. Without silly faces. Without Sophie.

I stood for a moment and took a long, deep breath of cold December air. The conversation had been reminiscent of old times. The wine had tasted good. And as much as I love Sophie, it felt so great just to be out. It had been a long time.

I think I need to be out more often.

“It is not the going out of port, but the coming in, that determines the success of a voyage.” —Henry Ward Beecher

We lit a “fire.”

Andy watered our tree, which he picked out on his own as it was bitter cold the night we bought it. Sophie and I sat in the car, blowing on the cold windows and then running our fingers down the glass.

Then Sophie got tired, Andy and I somehow got into a philosophical/theological discussion that didn’t end well, and we all went to bed.

But the next morning, we decorated our tree.

Sophie would reach out to touch a branch, and then quickly pull her hand away. She still does this, every time I show her different ornaments on the tree (which I do every day).

I’ve been pregnant the last two Christmases. This is the first one I’ve actually seen the lights on our tree reflected in two soft, baby brown eyes. Every night I show Sophie the various ornaments on our tree, like the gold Rudolph reindeer with “Kara Beth 1979” engraved on it, the glass ball with our dried wedding flowers in it, the Biltmore ornament from Katy and Tom, the many ornaments my grandma gave me every Thanksgiving, the many ornaments family made me during a Christmas-themed wedding shower, and the many ornaments Andy and I have exchanged over the years. I show her the tree topper Andy grew up with, the stockings my mom made, the ceramic and wooden Santas passed down to me, and “The Nutcracker” souvenir program books from latter years.

I have been so excited to share this, show this, explain this. I know I have a few years before letters to Santa, cookies and carrots on the hearth, and the wide-eyed surprise at seeing ballerinas dance out from underneath Mother Ginger’s skirt come into play, but still, this season, I’m happy. I’m content with watching someone new experience the small things—the prickly feeling of a Christmas tree branch, the sound of sleigh bells on the door and the way colored lights reflect in glass ornaments on the tree.

“Christmas waves a magic wand over this world, and behold, everything is softer and more beautiful.” —Norman Vincent Peale

Even though I saw snow on the way to Boston, Saturday it snowed at home and actually stuck to the ground. Dad took me to the grocery store and Mom took a picture of the snowflakes falling on my face as we walked to the car.

Later that afternoon Mom and Dad stuffed me into my snowsuit and we walked around our backyard.

Mom and I have matching hoods! (Don’t worry, Uncle Kyle. Mom says the fur isn’t real.)

Tucker loved the snow, too.

“The Eskimos had fifty-two names for snow because it was important to them: there ought to be as many for love.” —Margaret Atwood

In the eight-plus months I’ve been mothering, I’ve learned much and still have much to learn. The first few times I ventured out to buy Sophie clothes, after she was born, I didn’t pay attention to function. Take this outfit, for example, which I found on sale at Janie and Jack:

There was a reason it was on sale. No experienced mother would buy it. Why? Buttons.

Ten tiny, impossible-to-button buttons that have to be unbuttoned and buttoned every time you need to do a diaper change. Each one is a test of patience. Andy, my mom and I have all missed a hole while buttoning these tiny buttons and there’s no going back. Sophie then wears the outfit misbuttoned. Not that she really wears it at all.

You would think after one mistake like that I’d know better. But I was so excited at finding this adorable United Colors of Benetton outfit at a mother’s sale for only a few dollars that again, I didn’t take the time to look at how the outfit worked.

This one is even worse. There isn’t a zipper or snaps or buttons or anything around the legs. There are, however, six buttons lining the back of the outfit. So, to change Sophie’s diaper when she’s wearing this outfit, you must unbutton all six buttons and then take the entire outfit off. Not only that, it’s lay-flat-to-dry.

Clearly these clothes aren’t being designed by mothers or fathers.

“America: It’s like Britain, only with buttons.” —Ringo Starr

“Randy: I can’t put my arms down!
Mother: Well … put your arms down when you get to school.”
—from “A Christmas Story“

“Is not a kiss the very autograph of love?” —Henry Finck

Sometimes Mom gets behind on laundry. When she does she makes me wear knee-high socks until my pants are clean. But I don’t mind. Because pants straight from the dryer is better than apples and blueberries.

“We should all do what, in the long run, gives us joy, even if it is only picking grapes or sorting the laundry.” —E.B. White