I Am SO Loved.

I know I already updated with the outcomes of the medical adventures with the oncologist today, but I have to make a separate entry to mention the most amazing and wonderful and unexpected part of my day.

I cried and cried and sobbed and laughed and sobbed some more today because of the love of so many of you. I have been a part of an online mommy chat group over the past 5 years. I have had the luck to meet a handful of these women in that time, but most of us have been only cyber-friends - sharing advice, lending an ear, talking about raising the kids, feeding issues, pooping issues, marriage issues, and laughing and being silly and making amazing friendships.

I knew several of them were conspiring to send me something for my healing room and I had been told it would arrive today. When a poster tube showed up, I figured they had gotten together to create a poster of support.

I unrolled a heavy stack of photos and paper and realized they sent more than one - as I slowly unrolled the first poster, I saw that from across the country, they had all taken the words from "Lean on Me" and contributed photos of themselves with the words to the song in different silly ways.

Sometime in our lives, we all have pain, we all have sorrow... and each couple of words was a photo of a different friend with a sign or a painting or a drawing or a chalkboard or a magnadoodle or with lipstick on a mirror or writing on a cheek or hand... and a huge grin or kiss or silly face to make me feel better. I was sobbing before I read the first line of the song.

I was overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness and planning this poster required... then I realized there was another one underneath, and another, and another, and another. All told, about 60 women - most of whom I've never actually met in real life - they are my "imaginary mommy friends" - worked together to create 5 incredible posters that had me both laughing and crying so hard that if I still had boobs, they would have fallen off.

I am a Gleek, so there's a poster of everyone doing the Glee "L" on their foreheads with a giant Don't Stop Believing in the middle - and pictures of the Glee cast are interspersed in with my dear, hilarious friends.

There is a ridonkulous poster (a word they all know I hate and they use especially to make me laugh) with each of them doing duckface - I cannot stop laughing at these photos and am awed at the love that went into making them. (If you don't know what duckface is, check out antiduckface.com Really.) Because I'm also a Twilight fan (I draw the line at calling myself a Twi-hard, sorry.) they also included duckface pictures of Bella, Edward and Jacob. Again - laughing and crying at the genius here.

There is a poster of this amazing bunch of women looking in every direction Brady Bunch-style and sending me love and "healing dust" - and they even included a picture of me from my Bye Bye Bad Boobies party!

And then, for reasons I refuse to divulge or explain - the final poster is all of their kids carrying watermelons and fruit. They carried a watermelon for me. I have seen so many of these babies grow from black and white ultrasound photos into preschoolers and 1st graders. I have been able to share in their sleep patterns, eating habits, health scares and the silly, funny stories that make parenting so worthwhile.

There will never be words to describe how amazing this gift is from these women who love me so much despite the fact that most of them have never actually met me in person. I will never be able to thank my dear friend Stephanie who organized and put these projects together (while she was traveling for 2 weeks, too!) enough. I will be forever indebted to all those who created these ideas, who know me well enough to make me laugh until I cry and sometimes until I pee, and who took the time to take goofy pictures of themselves to show me how much love and support I have in this stupid, stupid battle.

I've always considered myself a fairly strong woman, but with friends like these (and this is just one group of friends! Don't forget the amazing VL friends that have been here in person throwing farewell parties for the bad girls, cooking meals, decorating my healing room, visiting me while I heal and giving me so, SO many hugs last night at the VL32 event!) I know I really can handle anything that comes my way.

Thank you all for bringing so much love into my world.

<3
-B-

I Made a Kid Cry - And It Wasn't My Kid

A couple of weekends ago we all went up to Prescott so the kiddos could see their first snow. As usual, we stayed with PopPop Doug, Carol, Liam and Jean at their house and had a great time relaxing, playing with the kids, watching movies, etc.

Fin and Greta loved their first snow experience (pictures to come soon) and their 5-yr old uncle Liam showed them how to sled like a big kid (with Mommy or Daddy, of course). Greta mostly wanted to eat the snow and we learned very quickly that we did not have appropriate snow gear for any of us when Fin's boots kept falling off and his socks and hands were soaked and cold.

After our snow adventure, we went back to the house, made dinner and relaxed. Fin and Liam were done eating before any of the adults as usual, so they were allowed to be excused with the condition that all the grown-ups be allowed to continue eating and chatting in peace. After a few minutes, Greta joined them to play.

Now, I know that Greta is only 2 and Liam will be 6 in a month, but most of the time there are very few issues about all three of the kids playing together. On this evening, Liam had some new Lego toys and was being a little possessive, which is every 5-yr old's right.

From the other room, we heard Liam yell at Greta, "No, you can't play with these Legos. These are big kid Legos! You're too little for these."

I tried to explain to Liam that Greta plays with the small Legos at our house all the time and she's really quite good with them, but I also knew he just might not want to share his new toy with her, which was okay.

A few minutes later, Greta wandered back to the table with a sad look on her face and grabbed Dave's arm, saying, "Daddy, play with me. Me baby."

Dave was still eating, but I told her I'd play with her. I grew up being the youngest and smallest kid and I worry that as Liam and Fin grow up it will be very easy for her to be left out because she's younger or because she's the girl. I had mentioned this concern over dinner earlier in the night and was quite sad to see her already being told that she was the baby and couldn't play with the "big boys".

Greta and I went into the living room and found some little people to play with. There was a castle, a knight, a king and queen, some dragons, plenty of fun for a 2-yr old and her mommy.

At one point, Greta picked up the knight and said, "Baby." Then she grabbed the queen and announced, "Mommy." She put both people into the little bed and said, "They go sleep. They nurse."

I thought this was just about the sweetest thing she could have been pretending, until she picked up the king, called him, "Daddy" and fit him into the bed with the other two toys. Then she sat back proudly and said, "Family!"

While Greta was playing this very sweet game of pretend, Liam and Fin had wandered into the living room and decided to start playing with the same toys we were using. I had no problem sharing, but when Liam blocked Greta from getting to the castle, I had to step in.

I pointed out that the boys could not tell Greta she couldn't play with them and then come take the other toys she found to play with away from her. They were free to exclude her, but it just wasn't nice to come take toys away and I wasn't going to let it happen.

I wasn't mad at the boys and I thought I was saying all of this as plainly as possible without using my mean mommy voice, but apparently I wasn't so successful.

After getting Greta set up with the castle again, I looked around and realized Liam was no longer in the room. Fin was playing happily with the Lego toys still, completely unfazed. I called to Liam and asked him to come back and play WITH us instead of taking the toys away and got no response.

I walked into the other room and found him sitting alone with a toy and crying. My heart broke.

In trying to protect one kid's feelings, I - the ADULT - had hurt another kid instead. Bad, bad grown-up.

Liam and I have never had a touchy-feely relationship. He's a very sweet kid and I like him a lot, but he's always preferred Dave (his older brother) over me and is pretty shy a lot of the time. He'll talk to me if I ask him a direct question, but in the almost 6 years that I've known him, he rarely seeks me out to talk to or play with.

When I saw him sitting there, I just started crying with him. I asked him if I could hold him and he didn't refuse when I picked him up and cradled him in my lap. He's a really tall kid, but I was quickly reminded that he's still so young. I just held him and rubbed his back while we both cried and I tried to explain to him that I NEVER meant for him to not play with us; I was just concerned about Greta because she's so little and it's so easy for the big boys to leave her out.

I apologized for hurting his feelings and assured him that I really wanted him to play with us again.

Eventually we both calmed down and he let me just snuggle him for a little while, which was really sweet. We did all play together more that night and the next day and I made sure to show him some extra affection for the rest of the trip. He's such a quiet, smart and sweet kid, it's easy to forget that he's still only 5.

I never wanted to learn a lesson at Liam's expense, but this was a pretty good reminder that my Mama Bear protection instincts for my own kids should never be unleashed full force on another kid.

Catching Up on Cuteness

Things got busy in our usual birthday/holiday/event whirlwind that starts in October and lasts through February, but I figured now was as good a time as any to try to catch up a bit.

Back in October, I realized Greta finally had enough hair to try to give her pigtails. The outcome was even cuter than I could have anticipated. Excuse the messy face ;)



Finny wanted to get in on the pigtail action and decided his made him look like a wild animal. Roar!



I love that her response to "How big is Greta Boo?" is still "Soooooo big!"



A few weeks later she let me try the pigtails again (she's not a huge fan and usually squirms while I put them in and immediately pulls them out again) but she demanded a third for her bangs that were starting to get in her eyes. When she saw herself in the mirror, she announced, "Porcupine!"

Of course, I really have to share this picture simply because it gives me a glimpse of a face I am sure I will see quite often when she's in middle and high school.


Still adorable when she's not giving me the attitude that goes with this face, isn't it?

Love, Unprovoked

We all went to the mall today to pick up some new shoes and shirts for Dave. HaHa entertained the kids at the Disney store while Dave and I shopped, then we all met up for some big soft pretzels. As HaHa and Dave let Fin pick out the pretzels (one salty, one cinnamon sugar, of course) Greta and I decided to stop by the shoe store and pick up the shoes Dave had picked out earlier.

She held my hand and was alternating between walking and running, when she suddenly announced. "Loh you."

I paused. "What did you say baby?"

"Loh you."

"You love me?"

"Uh-huh." And off she went running again.

Greta has been saying "Loh you doo" for a couple of weeks now and has recently shortened her reply to "Loh you," but today is the first day she's ever just told me she loved me without it being a response to me saying it first.

This was a great end to 2009 and I have a feeling I'm going to like 2010 if she makes it a habit of telling me she loves me.

Happy, safe, healthy New Year!

And Now He's FOUR.

Four years ago yesterday, I became a mom.

Fin's arrival was nothing at all what we expected and about 6 weeks earlier than planned, but it made me a mom, gave me the sweetest, funniest, cutest little guy to call my son, and changed my life in ways I never could have imagined.

We celebrated last night with family, cake and gifts. I let Fin pick the menu and all he wanted was Mac & Cheese. He helped me decorate his cake and we all had a blast. Pictures will come soon.

Saturday we will be hosting 18 of his friends (not sure WHAT I was thinking when I agreed to that plan) and their parents at our house. There will be a Batman bounce house in the backyard to entertain the little people. I hope my sanity is intact afterwards.

I am so blessed and lucky to have these amazing little people call me Mommy.

Fin's Plans for the Future

For a while now, Fin has been working out some plans on what he wants to do with his life. For several months, he's told us that when he grows up he's going to live in Hawaii. He even says he's going to build a treehouse in his backyard so Mommy and Daddy can visit him and "stay in it like a hotel!" I can't wait to see this treehouse.

But more recently, he's been working out some professional decisions. The conversation tends to go like this:

F: "When I'm a grown-up I'm going to do EVERYTHING."
M: "What do you mean?"
F: "I'm going to be everything!"
M: "Oh yeah? What are you going to be first?"
F: "First I'll be a doctor. Then a fire chief. Then I'm going to be a Mario character."

Somehow, our conversations usually come back to a video game reference, but it's still pretty sweet to think that this little guy already has plans to be a doctor and then try to be everything else in the world that might be fun to be.

I hope it's a long, long time before his dreams and hopes get any smaller.

Oh, The Funny Things Finny Says!

The boy has really been cracking us up lately. I've been keeping a list of his gems from the last few weeks. There's no true rhyme or reason to this list; these are just things that made me laugh and I remembered to write them down. Enjoy!


**A couple of weeks ago, Fin got to school, walked right up to one of his classmates (his best buddy PJ that Greta has a huuuuge crush on) and said, "Hello, arch-nemesis!"

Later that week when HaHa went to pick him up from school, she arrived to see his entire class lined up and ready to go inside and Teacher Linda dragging a head-to-toe muddy Fin over to the sink to get cleaned up. She relinquished Fin to HaHa and when HaHa asked what he was doing, he said very loudly with closed muddy fists on his hips: "I WAS TRYING TO SAVE THE WORLD BUT THE BAD GUYS WOULDN'T LET ME!" She asked who the bad guys were and he said everyone but him (he was being Short Round from the Indiana Jones movies) and he needed more outside time to save the world.

**When something isn't going his way, he has started yelling, "Oh DAMAGE!" We know what he thinks he's saying, but it's far enough away to just be funny.

**When he plays with legos, we will often overhear him having one of his lego guys saying, "Curses, foiled again!" (Can you tell he's into comic books and super heros?)

**Lately, whevener he's learned something new or seen a new movie, he will randomly announce for a few days afterwards, "Mommy, I'm really into Robots" (saw the movie last week) or "I'm really into WALL-E". He's always IN to things now.

**He eats two animal-shaped vitamins every day. He has them play with each other on the table for a few minutes and pretends to feed them his acidophilus supplement (which always has to be broken in half so they each have food ), then he will eat one, do a little "ahhhhh!" yell for it as he chews it up, then has the other one say, "I'll save you!" before he throws that one in his mouth, too.

**A couple of nights ago, we went out to eat and before we realized it, he'd grabbed one of the after dinner mints as we walked out the door. So he was eating it in the car on the way home and asked, "Can I save my progress on this and finish it tomorrow?" Yeah, he's been playing a lot of video games lately. :)

**Last night the kids were doing the usual wind-down-for-bedtime jumping on the bed ticklefest. After about a half hour of trying to land on Dave's head, Fin announced, "I'm kind of an amaziac!" It seemed like a very appropriate description.

Boo is TWO!

I know I'm her mother and it's probably in poor taste to publicly marvel at her beauty, but holy moly can you believe this gorgeous little girl of mine is already TWO???



My Baby Boo, my sweet little peanut, my tiny little girl, is getting all grown up. I've known for a long time that time flies when you're having fun, but no one ever told me it would fly by this quickly once I became a parent. But I suppose I never knew having kids would be this much fun, either.

We celebrated Greta's 2nd birthday yesterday and had a blast. PopPop Doug and Liam came over for lunch and everyone watched Robots before Greta's nap. When she woke up, it was time for dinner, presents and CAKE!

PopPop Doug and Liam came back with Carol, Haha showed up, and Gaga and PopPop Art came by to celebrate, too. The girl had more presents than she knew what to do with, but after each gift was opened (with the help of Liam and Fin, of course,) she would gleefully squeal, "Nother one! Nother one!"

You'd never guess from the things she got what her favorite color might be, would you?

She loooves those boots!

So now she's two. She's not a baby anymore and she'll be the first to tell you. Of course, tonight after bathtime she was announcing, "Me big boy. Winny (Finny) big boy. Mommy big boy. Daddy big boy. Liam, PopPopDoug, Haha - big boy!"

I just think it's cute how much she's talking these days. We'll work on gender agreement some other time.

As she has been for the last two years, she is funny, sweet, smart, cute, fearless, independent, somewhat headstrong, and absolutely, incredibly, amazingly WONDERFUL.

Happy Birthday my sweet Greta Boo! We love you so much!

Wow, Am I Glad I Wrote That Down!

From time to time when I'm away from the computer and the kids do something incredible, adorable, or incredibly adorable (which seems like all the time, honestly) I grab a scrap of paper and scribble down what I can remember in the hopes that I will be able to record it more fully at a later time.

I happened to stumble across one of these gems this evening and have to share it. This was from February 27, 2009 - so about 9 months ago. I wrote it out in pretty thorough detail at the time, so I'll just paste it here. Around this time, Finny and I would often have "convernations" and the kid would say some amazing things.

2/27/09 Bedtime

F: Maybe someday I’ll be a Daddy. And a teacher.
M: Maybe. That would be nice, huh?
F: Yeah.
M: What kind of teacher would you be?
F: A baby teacher!
M: You’d teach babies?
F: Yeah. Babies like Greta.
M: You’d teach babies like Greta?
F: ALL the babies in this town!
M: (laughing by now) That sounds like a good idea.
F: And the next day when baby Colin comes from Texas. I’ll teach him, too.
M: You’re going to teach Colin, too?
F: Yeah.
M: You were teaching Greta today, weren’t you? What were you teaching her?
F: Covering oranges with the grass!

This is exactly what he was doing in PopPop Doug’s yard earlier in the day. We picked oranges from the tree and Fin had put his in the grass and was pulling up pieces of grass to hide it in the yard. Greta saw him doing it and also started pulling grass and holding it over the orange in her hand. When I told Fin that Greta was doing everything he was doing, he told me, “I’m her teacher!”

(Soooo glad I wrote that one down and found it again!)

Well, That Was Short-Lived

I spoke too soon. Fin slept in his big boy bed for five nights, then decided he was done.

Of those five nights, I slept with him for the entire night one time. Three of the other nights he had nightmares that had him crying and flailing in his sleep and I had to go rub his head and back to help him settle down again (even though he never actually woke up). Two of the nights I ended up crawling into his bed for the last hour or so of the early morning sleep so he wouldn't wake up alone.

One of the mornings he woke up alone in his bed and was ANGRY and betrayed to be alone despite the fact that we were in our bed only a few feet away and he often wakes up alone in our bed in the mornings with no anger or frustration.

The fifth night, about 5 am (his usual nightmare time), I heard a whimper and thrashing about, but no crying. I sat up in bed, trying to determine whether he needed me to help soothe him back to sleep or if he was just tossing and turning. After a moment, I heard him slide out of bed.

He came into our room looking very sad with him arms held up for a giant hug. I held him close and asked if he wanted me to come lay down in his bed with him again and he said, "No. I want to sleep here."

I told him how brave he was for coming to find us when he woke up instead of crying or yelling for us and made room for him in our bed again. I hoped this was a step in the right direction for the transition to the big boy bed.

That night, as bedtime approached, we asked if he was ready to head over to his bed after stories and he replied, "No, I already slept there five nights. I'm going to sleep here now."

And he's been back in our bed every night since. Any time we mention sleeping in his room again, he reminds us that he's already done it five times. Apparently that's enough.

I wonder when he'll be ready to try again. In the meantime, he's still a sweet, cuddly sleeper and I don't mind him still being in our bed.

Talking With Teacher Linda

We had Finny's first Parent-Teacher Conference this week. Dave was a bit nervous about how Fin might be fitting in, but I was just excited to hear about his skills.

It came as no surprise to us that Teacher Linda said he has exceptional math and verbal skills. She said it was obvious that he spends time around people who like numbers, to which Dave and I both just laughed and agreed. She also said that he had some trouble with a few large motor skills like kicking or catching a ball, which was also no surprise to us, considering who his parents are. (Afterwards, Dave commented that if someone gave him a ball, he'd be happy to turn it in to a spaceship or bury it in the dirt, but it would never occur to him to try to throw it to anyone. Yeah, I think the kid has a natural disadvantage on that athletic front...)

Overall, he's doing great in school and Teacher Linda told us to just keep doing what we're doing with him. He is a little behind (but still in the normal range for a three year old) on writing skills, still using a fist grip on pencils and such, but was off the charts on being able to use scissors, logical thinking and being able to follow directions in order. She said he has a great imagination and she is impressed with his vocabulary. When he said he was Robin for Halloween, she asked if meant a bird. He replied, "No, Robin the sidekick!" She was very amused by him knowing the word sidekick.

Teacher Linda told us that socially, he is a little less connected with the other kids - he will notice when someone is upset or hurt, but he will not stop what he's doing to check on them or comfort them as some other 3yr olds will. But looking over the list of peer interaction skills, they are all things he would do with Greta or Liam (cooperative play, not just parallel play) so it will just take a bit of time until he's comfortable enough with his classmates to show those behaviors at school. She did say he would approach her and talk to her directly when she asked him questions, but is a little quieter with his classmates.

We mentioned that he does talk about the kids at school and tells us who his friends are and who he plays games with. She was happy to hear it and said it was all moving in the right direction. In fact, after school today he personally invited 3 of his classmates over for a playdate this week - his idea!

When she asked if we had any questions about his development, Dave mentioned that he NEVER wants to go to school, no matter how much advance warning he has about the transition. He's started faking illnesses in the mornings to get out of going to school and even yesterday told us he wanted to stay home from school to watch the Lightning McQueen movie and eat Halloween candy. (No dice, kid.)

She said that behavior was common in gifted kids (yea!) because they get so focused on whatever they're doing, so involved in their activities that they do not want to stop them. Yep, sounds like Finny all right. However, she also said she did not see any issues with him transitioning between activities in the classroom, so it's not a concern right now.

In all, there was no major surprise in the meeting, which is good. He's a bright, funny, imaginative kid and she said he was great to have in class. He was behind on a few things, but at a 5-6yr old level on some other skills, so he's doing well. And the things he's a little behind on (socialization) are all things being in school will help, so we're on the right track!

In a few months she will evaluate him again using the 4yr old standards, so we'll have another conference in the spring. In the meantime, more books and play and fun with Fin! Y

I Heart Bedtime

Well, I've pretty much always loved bedtime. I'm sure there was a time in my life when my parents would have argued against that statement, but for the most part, I am a fan of sleep whenever and wherever I can get it.

But my current affection for bedtime actually has nothing to do with sleep, nothing to do with the peace and quiet that comes after the little ones doze off for the evening and absolutely everything to do with those little ones themselves.

As a full time work-outside-the-home mom, I generally feel like I don't get to see the kids enough. I still wish I got to spend more quality time with them throughout the day, but I have to say that lately, we've stumbled into a really sweet and fun bedtimeroutine .

Sometime after dinner, whether there's a bath or not, we all end up in our bedroom. The kids may need to be led in there against their will or they may make their way in there by playing "hide seek" (Gretish) after dinner. Either way, there is playtime in the bed that usually involves jumping, tickling, reading books, snuggling and lots and lots of giggling.

Sometime in there, jammies get put on, a diaper gets added, hands and faces get washed (if it's not a bath night), and teeth get brushed. Eventually stories get read and the lights get turned off for stories in bed for Fin while I take Greta to her room for nursing and snuggles. One of the sweetest highlights, however, is Greta's almost constant request for singing.

Last night I was reading a counting book to Greta. I'd turn the page, ask her the animal and we'd count together. On the page with 5, the picture was of beluga whales. Greta saw the animal and immediately ordered, "sing."

It had been a while since we'd read this book together - maybe a few months - yet the girl remembered I once sang Raffi's Baby Beluga to her on that page.

Well, I made up some words and sang it to her, then tried to continue with 6. Nope. She turned the page back. "Sing. More Baby Nuga."

This went on for a while until I decided it was time to get her to her room. Even there, once she seemed to be dozing off, she raised her read and said:

G: "More Baby Nuga"
M: "No baby, it's time for sleep."
G: "Sing."
M: "No baby, it's time for sleep."
G: "Backin" (Thumbkin)
M: "No baby, it's time for sleep."
G: "Nemo"
M: "No." (laughing because I don't know a Nemo song anyway)
G: "Dory"
M: "No."
G: "Me." (pointing to herself)
M: "No baby, it's time for sleep."
G: "Me sing."
M: "You want a Greta song?"
G: "Uh-huh"

Well, how could I resist that? I sang her one of the love songs I made up about her and have sung since she was tiny.

G: "One more."

Oookay. I'm a pushover.

G: "More."
M: "No baby, it's time for sleep." (laughing again - she is persistent)

She finally seemed to be dozing off, until about 5 minutes later when she suddenly raised her head and said again:

G: "More Baby Nuga."

Well, it worked before, right? :) I snuggled with her a bit more - no more singing - and finally put her in her crib where she chattered to herself for a few minutes and went to sleep.

I returned to our bedroom to find Finny and Dave still reading superhero stories. We turned off the lights and settled in with a few kisses and goodnights and such.

Just when I thought Fin was dozing off, he was suddenly squirming and fidgeting and I rolled over to see him doing downward dog in bed. When he gets wound up like that, we've discovered it's easier to let him get the energy out (and try to tire him out) rather than continually telling him to settle down. So I suggested some exercise.

F: "What exercises should I do?"
M: "Jumping jacks."

He did jumping jacks - which at three years old is really just jumping up and down while waving his arms around - and regular jumping and rolling side to side and sit ups and backbends and bicycle kicks and reverse crunches before finally deciding he was tired. He snuggled into bed and then asked, "Can I tell you a story?"

Again, how could I resist that?

It went something like "*whipser*whisper*whisper*" (no idea what he was saying) "and there was a big splash *whisper* in front of Liam's house and there was a flood and it wasn't from rain and we got stuck in the mud and it was SLIPPERY! *whisper*"

Then he rolled over, said "Freckle," put his hand on my chest and was asleep in about 3 minutes.

I know our bedtime rituals are not exactly conventional. We don't make the kids fall asleep alone. We cosleep and allow the kids access to our bed for snuggles and family time. I might feel differently about these things if I felt I got to see the kids enough during the day, but I treasure our bedtime conversations and our nighttime snuggles.

Every night I get to marvel at their creativity and humor and share the wonder of their discoveries. Their personalities are so amazing and our bedtime rituals and games are so much fun. I've long been a fan of bedtime, but these days, it's definitely my favorite part of the day.

Fin's Latest Favorites

So after rereading a few entries from last year, I found myself alone in the car with Finny this afternoon and thought it might be fun to see how he answered the questions about his favorite things now. It was an amusing conversation.

Me: "Hey Finny, what's your favorite thing about Greta?"
Fin: "umm..." (silence)
M: "What's your favorite thing about Daddy?"
F: "Plaaaaaying!"
M: "What's your favorite thing about Mommy?"
F: "Freckle!"

Yes, still. No hesitation, I swear. LOL No priming, either. He has no idea we've had this conversation before. I was cracking up.

M: "What's your favorite thing about Greta?"
F: "When she tickles me!"

This is such a sweet answer and I assume the conversation is over. I was wrong.

F: "Talk more, Mommy."
M: "About what?"
F: "About all the things I love!"

M: "Okay, what's your favorite thing about Liam?"
F: "Playing Batman and Robin."
M: "What's your favorite thing about PopPop Doug?"
F: "Playing with Liam."

Not really about PopPop there, but I let it go. We were on a roll by this time.

M: "What's your favorite thing about HaHa?"
F: "She tells jokes."
M: "What's your favorite thing about GaGa?"
F: "Going to her house."
M: "What's your favorite thing about PopPop Art?"
F: "Making holes and watching the Penguin."

This last one confused me. I knew the making holes was referring to digging holes in the back yard together, but I had no idea what "watching the Penguin" meant. Apparently, they have some sort of game where anyone with an umbrella is the Penguin from Batman, but the follow up questions sidetracked our conversation and we didn't get to run through the rest of the family before we made it home.

I have to admit, I was more than a little surprised that he still listed the freckle as his favorite thing about Mommy, but considering he still asks for it at bedtime and when he's sad/hurt/scared/upset, I guess I should have expected it. I assume he won't go to Kindergarten and still be sticking his hand down my shirt for comfort, but I guess we'll see. :)

Quick Finny Catch Up

Unfortunately, I don't have Finny's first preschool photo to share yet, but I'll post it when I get it, I promise. Still a good lookin' kid in this one, though.

In the meantime, this kid is getting HUGE! He's so tall for a 3 yr old that most people assume he's at least 5. He's maybe one inch shorter than his uncle Liam, who is 5.5 yrs old. He is still so very sweet and funny, and of course I think he's a genius, but again - there's that mom bias, right?

He is now in preschool 3 mornings a week. He NEVER wants to go to school, but he also NEVER wants to leave once he's there. He likes his teachers and new friends, but he generally never wants to stop anything he's doing to start anything else, regardless of how much advance warning you give him or how fun the new thing will be. The kid just doesn't dig transitions much.

He is an amazing big brother and is very patient with Greta - most of the time. He lets her help him build Legos, he always assigns her a character in his pretend play (Batman, Bloat, whoever), and he loves to read books with her. A few weeks ago when she would still say "kack" when you pointed to a duck, he would tell her, "Greta, say 'duck'" until she did. Y

Fin's drawings are really starting to look like the things he intends them to look like (which is way more than I can say of my own drawings, but I digress) and even his teachers have been impressed with some of his artwork. The other day he drew a very nice rainbow, then added a leprechaun, and then drew raindrops all over the back of the picture. I love how his little mind works.

Quick Greta Boo Catch Up

I can't believe this sweet little girl is almost 23 months old. She is one of the funniest, sweetest, smartest little people I've ever known, but I do recognize my bias as her mom. She is really growing up and is all the things you'd want your daughter to be: fearless, independent, confident, a little bit headstrong. LOL The only bad part (occasionally) is that she is often all those things toward us, too. Yep, she's approaching two.

One of her very first sentences was, "No, Mommy. Me hep!" (me help) Yeah, that pretty much set the tone right there.

She is talking up a storm, has a huge vocabulary and almost always speaks in sentences. She started potty training herself at about 19 months and now typically only wears diapers for naps and bedtime. She loves to draw and will happily pretend with Fin for hours or even days. They have been Nemo and Dory all week (though Fin really wants her to be Bloat and me to be Dory, but she claims she's Dory when he's not paying attention). And her favorite color - for EVERYTHING - is purple. She always wants the purple anything and no matter what she tells you she wants, she will then tell you to make hers purple. Shoes? Purple. Jammies? Purple. Eggs? Purple. (Dave did this a few times, then decided eggs are yellow for a reason. But she still asks.)

And of course, she's beautiful. (Again, there's mom-bias, but look at her! LOL)

She's been doing the one day/week parent-toddler interaction class at preschool with Dave this fall. She loves it. My friend Michele Stange (http://www.michelestange.com/) did the school photos and sent me a sneak preview of Greta's (above).

So, now that she's getting a bit older, one of the things you'll hear from her most often is, "Look me, Mommy! Look me did!" (which, if you don't speak Gretish is "Look at me, Mommy. Look at what I did!") She is very proud of all of her accomplishments, and is also very polite, peppering her conversations with "Deku, Bubba" or "Deku, Mommy" (thank you), and of course, "Beeeeee!" (please). When she really wants something, she will add the baby sign of rubbing her chest to say please as she begs. And of course, I still get "Nur be" (nurse, please) every morning and every afternoon when I get home from work.

The other morning as Greta and I were enjoying our wake up and snuggle nursing session, I realized I'd been staring at her in wonder and adoration for a while and hadn't actually spoken to her much. So I smiled and said hi. She returned a huge grin and said, "Hi!" then went back to nursing. I cracked up laughing and told her I love her. She replied, "Mm-hmm" and threw her top arm way out. Then she sat up and said, "Other arm. BIIIIIIIG!" and threw both arms wide. Yep, this kid knows she's loved.

Y

Catching Up

Well, the whirlwind of birthdays and holidays is giving us a little break right now. Granted, today is Colin's first birthday, but he's in Texas and we won't be heading that way until the weekend, so things are getting back to normal here for a few days at least.

Fin's birthday and his first "friend" party went great! I'll share some pictures soon, but he and all his little friends had a blast with the ball pit, tents and tunnels and of course, the Nemo ice cream cake! Yum.

Christmas was fun, too. The kids got a couple of fun animal tents (a zebra and a shark) which take up tons of space in the house, but they also mean a few hours of playing and hiding when they're up, so they were definitely worth it. And Santa brought a play kitchen, too. Fin had fun helping Daddy assemble it (well, until more family showed up with more presents!) and both kids play with it just about every day. One of his favorite things to make for us is "animal soup". He throws in all his small animals, along with all the fruits and veggies he can find and maybe a hot wheel car or two, and serves it up steaming hot!

Greta just likes to wear the kitchen sink on her head. (I have pictures of this, but am having trouble uploading them right now. Boo.) Her other new favorite thing to do is give kisses! Our little sweetie will pinch her lips together, raise her chin and then say "Mmmmmm-wah!" as she walks across the room to plant one on us. LOVE that!

All in all, it's been a great holiday season and aside from a yuck-o cold I have right now, 2009 is off to a nice start as well. We have a few more birthdays and events in the coming weeks (the trip to Texas this weekend for Colin's first, GaGa's birthday and Uncle Richard's birthday in a few weeks, then our fifth wedding anniversary!) but I don't expect to disappear from the updates again anytime soon.

Will post pictures soon when Blogger is cooperating.

Fin's Birth Letter

Fin's arrival three years ago was... unexpected. Of course, we knew we were having a baby, we just thought we had about six more weeks before he showed up.

The experience of his arrival was terrifying, traumatic and scary - but the reality of his arrival, of his being with us, was and is just amazing. His first few months were really, really hard and even the distance of three years' time doesn't make me remember those sleepless, exhausting, uncertain moments any more fondly. But every time he smiles or gives me a hug or kiss or even just breathes softly in his sleep, I know I wouldn't change a thing because that experience gave us the sweet little guy we have right now.

So, here is the letter I wrote to Fin a few days after his birth. We'd been home from the hospital (out of the NICU) for a few days and I had been having some pretty traumatic flashbacks to his brith experience. I knew writing it down would help me have some distance from it as I tried to heal physically and mentally, and I wanted him to know how incredible I already knew he was.

If you haven't already read this letter, I should warn that it might be a good idea to have a tissue handy. I know I can't read it without crying, but then I'm his mom and I lived this. Things have calmed down since we first met, but every single day with my sweet little Fin has been incredible.

Enjoy.

*******************************************

December 24, 2005

A Letter to my Sweet Baby Finian, about your birth –

I am entering my 35th week of pregnancy when the cramps start. They are low across my back and remind me of menstrual cramps, but not too intense or severe. Backrubs from your dad and a heating pad help some. They do not worry me because I know my body is just getting ready to push you out in about 5 weeks.

A few times before bed, I notice I have started to have actual contractions – the cramp spreads from my lower back around to my abdomen and everything is tight and painful for about 45 seconds. I concentrate on relaxing and breathing through the contraction, getting ready for the non-medicated childbirth your dad and I have planned. The contractions are not regular and I know false labor is common. I am not worried. These continue on and off for about 4 days.

On Thursday I feel a lot of these “practice” contractions and am very uncomfortable. I call our midwife Donna to let her know that the contractions are getting more painful. We have an appointment scheduled to see her for the next day, and I know she’ll tell me to just rest and relax, but I think she should know that I am getting a little concerned. After all, as much as I am eager and anxious to meet you, we aren’t expecting you for another 5 weeks and 4 days.

Donna says that if I had reached 35 weeks she would tell me everything I was feeling was normal. But, since I am still a few days away from that mark, I am supposed to keep a very close eye on what I am feeling and let her know if things change. If I feel the contractions more than once every ten minutes for a full hour, or have more than 6 in an hour, or if they do not go away when I use the bathroom or elevate my feet or lie down or relax in the tub, then I am supposed to call. Otherwise, she will see me at my appointment the next afternoon.

I keep track of what is happening. I take a nap and they stop. They come back when I wake up, but stop when I walk around a bit. Finally, that night, when nothing else will make them go away, I take a bath. For the first time in the whole pregnancy, they do not stop when I am in the tub. But they also do not become more regular or more intense. I can talk through most of them and even though they last anywhere from 30 seconds to over a minute, they come at 6 minutes, then 20 minutes, then 12 minutes, then 4 minutes and so on. They never become “real labor”.

On the morning of Friday, December 16th, I get up and am visiting with your Grandpa Terry, who is in town visiting us. I am telling him how excited we are to meet you, but how there is so much stuff we still need to get done before you show up. Your furniture hasn’t been delivered, we don’t have diapers for you, but most importantly, I do not feel I am ready to push you out yet. I don’t feel like I know what I am going to do when I really start to hurt and I tell him that with all the pains and contractions I have been feeling all week, I am worried that I won’t be able to manage the pain when the time comes.

I go to the bathroom that morning and discover that I have lost my mucus plug. Your dad and I look through all the baby books we have around to see if that means something is about to happen. One book says I will probably start real labor in 24-48 hours, but another book says it could be anywhere from one to three weeks. Our appointment with Donna is in about 6 hours, so I figure we will just let her know then.

We decide to go out for breakfast, so I go to take a shower. Once in the shower, I start having some contractions in my lower back and they hurt more and more, but again, they are not coming at regular intervals. The shower feels really good on my back and my big pregnant tummy, so I just stay in there for a while. Your dad comes to check on me and I figure it is time to get out and go to breakfast. However, just as I am about to turn off the water, I feel a big gush. My water has broken!

Your dad quickly calls Donna’s office to let them know that my water has broken – a sign that labor is usually pretty close behind. I am in the shower thinking that my body will know what to do, but it is too early for you to come out yet. I am getting scared, but I just kept telling myself that God knows what He is doing and will help me figure it all out. She asks if I am having contractions and at this point they have slowed down, so she says to just come in to my appointment in a few hours, but call if anything changes.

Your dad hangs up the phone and when he walks back into the bathroom, he finds me on my hands and knees in the shower having a very big, very painful contraction. We wait to see if they are going to come every 5 or 10 minutes, but within a minute or two, I have another. He calls Donna right back and she says we have to get to the hospital immediately. They need to monitor us to make sure you are okay.

Your grandpa had been a paramedic for a few years and had delivered a few babies, so it is very nice for me to have him nearby. He’s always very calm and I know he at least is familiar with women in labor – at least he has more experience with what is happening to us than either your dad or I have. I come out of the bathroom and find him telling me that everything is going to be okay, the contractions will slow down, we’ll have plenty of time to get where we need to be and we’ll all be fine. In fact, at this point, I am still thinking we are going to go to the hospital and be told that you are still weeks away from showing up. When I walk out of the bathroom and put on my watch to start keeping track of the contractions, it is 10:40am on December 16, 2005.

Your dad is going all over the house collecting the things we might need if I really am in labor. I get down the hallway from our bedroom and am already having another contraction. Your grandpa sits next to me, rubs my lower back, and tells me everything is going to be okay – the contractions will slow down any minute now. I try to concentrate on just pushing the button on my stopwatch every time the contractions start or stop, but I notice that I am only having about a minute or so to rest in between them.

After a few minutes, your grandpa decides that things are not slowing down after all and tells your dad it is time to get me in the car and get to the hospital. Unfortunately, the hospital is 25 miles away – something everyone told us was not going to be an issue because real labor always takes a really long time. They both help me up after a contraction and before I have taken three steps, I am back on the floor having another contraction. By this time, we are all starting to get scared. I realize that I just have to make it across the living room and into the garage so we can get going. After the next contraction, I just make myself go. They have pillows in the back of the car and I lie down just as another contraction hits me.

*******************************************

The car ride to the hospital is very scary. I keep concentrating on hitting the button on my stopwatch, but at this point, I know that something is not right. I was not in labor at all, and then I was suddenly having contractions that lasted a minute each with only a minute or less in between to catch my breath. Your dad is driving us to the hospital and both of them are telling me that everything is fine.

At first, I am trying to just take lots of deep breaths when the contractions hit. Before I know it, I am saying “okay okay okay okay okay.” I am telling myself that I am going to be okay, that you are fine, that everything is going to work out. I am scared, but I can handle this. The contractions keep coming.

In a few minutes, I hear myself saying “ow ow ow ow ow.” I cannot believe how much it hurts, but I know that if I just try to stay calm everything will be fine. You will be fine, I will be fine and it will all just be a great story to tell. I am kicking the car door with my feet to try to get the pain away from me. The contractions keep coming.

I am suddenly yelling “no no no no no.” The contractions are too close. They hurt too much. Something is not right. I am scared. I am hitting the back of your dad’s seat in front of me. Your grandpa is holding my hand. I notice that he has put his seat down in front and is facing backwards to try to help me. He tells me he does not want to have to deliver you in the car.

Then I am just screaming. I try to hold a pillow to my mouth so I don’t scare your dad too much. I think that I have never heard my voice make that sound before, but that sound is all that I can feel. I can see only bright red. I can only scream.

The contractions keep coming.

Between the contractions, I try to tell your dad that I am okay. I have to scream because it hurts, but he should not be scared. I touch his neck and tell him we are fine. I hope I am right. I am still hitting the button on the stopwatch.

As the hospital comes into view, I feel you start to come out of my body. I know it is too soon and just keep telling myself not to push. I cannot push.

Your dad pulls up to the ER and your grandpa jumps out of the car to get someone to help. In between contractions I tell your dad I can feel you. I can feel that you are ready to come out. You are already in the birth canal. A contraction hits and I tell myself not to push.

A nurse runs to the car with a wheelchair and tells your dad and grandpa to run to the lobby and get the elevator. She is running with me and through the contraction I can see the back of your dad running away from me. We get into the lobby and the elevator is waiting. Your grandpa is holding my hand and I look around. Where is your dad? He had to move the car. He is not with me. I will not see him again for hours.

We get to the maternity floor and someone tells me to hop up on the bed. Between contractions, I ask “HOP???” They remind me that another contraction is coming so I move fast, get on the bed and take off my underwear so they can examine me. I see blood.

A nurse named DeeDee takes one look and says, “We have a prolapsed cord.” I know this is not good. I know this is what I felt when I said you were trying to leave my body. It is not you; it is your life support system. If this cord gets outside before you, you cannot breathe and your brain and organs can get hurt or stop working. DeeDee immediately puts her hand inside me to keep you off your own cord.

They tell me they will have to perform surgery on me to get you out. I do not care; I just want you to be safe. I hear someone say you might be breech. I tell them that you were at the last midwife visit two weeks ago. They are rubbing something cold on my stomach so they can do the surgery. It hurts. They stick my hand to give me drugs and apologize. I tell them I don’t care; I just need you to be okay. I am praying and praying, “please be okay, please be okay”. It’s all I can say or think. I am having contractions and they are telling me not to push. I say, “I am not pushing. I am not pushing. Please be okay, baby, please be okay.”

The doctor is on his way. They tell me they are giving me something so I don’t feel the contractions. I hear someone say they see poop – this is meconium. It means you are not doing well. Someone else says your heartrate is in the 90s. This also means you are not well. I am so scared. The doctor is still four minutes away. They put a mask on me and tell me to take long slow breaths. I still feel the contractions and there is nothing coming from the mask. I do not care if I have to be awake when they cut you out of me; I just need you to be okay. They are pushing on my throat so they can give me a breathing tube when the surgery starts. They are giving me a catheter and apologizing for hurting me. The only thing that can hurt me now is if you are not okay. Someone tries to tell DeeDee to move so they can examine me. I hear her say she is keeping this baby off this cord and alive. She will not move. I thank God for DeeDee.

They are arguing over whether they can start without the surgeon. They say they need to cut now to get you out. Someone says it’s time to knock me out and cut. The anesthesiologist says he will not drug me until it’s time to cut. They cannot cut until the doctor is there. I do not care if I am awake when they cut me, but I selfishly hope for drugs because I am so scared. Someone whispers to me that you are doing okay, your heartrate is back up. I do not know if I should believe him, but I pray that he’s telling the truth. Someone says the doctor is in the building, the mask is back on me and I feel them grab my skin and start to cut me open to get you out. Please be okay, my baby. The drugs kick in and I am blissfully unaware of what happens next.

*******************************************

Later, your dad and grandpa fill me in on the next twenty minutes. They are in the waiting room and nobody is telling them anything. People are running in and out of the operating room. Codes are being called. Resuscitation teams are being called. A nurse leaves the room and will not make eye contact with them. They are preparing for the worst.

Finally, the doctor comes out to talk to them. You are okay. I am okay. They still do not exhale. The doctor asks your dad if he wants to see you. He gets to meet you within minutes of your birth.

When you were born, they doctors said you were “severely depressed and completely unresponsive”. At one minute of life, you stopped breathing and they had to do a complete resuscitation. They gave you a breathing tube just like I had. Your first Apgar score was a 2.

When your dad gets to meet you for the first time, you have a tube in your throat and someone is breathing for you. With your dad watching, they remove your breathing tube and stand ready to resuscitate you again. To everyone’s amazement you are breathing on your own. Your lungs are good and strong. At ten minutes of life, you are breathing room air on your own. Your dad got to see your first real breaths of air. When they redo your Apgar test at ten minutes, you score an 8. (Your five minute Apgar score is a 5.)

They are able to determine that your brain, lungs and most organs are okay, but they are worried that your stomach and digestive system suffered the most distress from the umbilical cord being squashed. They keep you in the NICU on monitors, antibiotics and IVs until they can find out how okay you are.

The surgeon tells your dad it is the fastest surgery he has ever performed. He never even changed into scrubs before they cut me; they just threw a gown over his clothes and gave him two sets of gloves because he did not have time to scrub in.

*******************************************

When I wake from my drug haze, someone tells me you are okay. You were born at 11:51am. I remember that it was 10:40am when I got out of the shower that morning. I am amazed that you are here so quickly. Your grandpa is sitting at the foot of my bed just waiting for me to wake up. He tells me you have curly red hair like I did when I was born. I have never seen him look so relieved.

They tell me I was fully dilated when we arrived at the hospital. I went from false labor to fully ready to deliver in just over an hour. That explains the pain.

The nurse tells me in twelve years of being a maternity nurse she has seen only two prolapsed cords. It was a very scary day for all of them. They are all calling you the “Christmas miracle baby of 2005.” I still cannot believe you are here. You are 34 weeks and 4 days gestational age. The earliest they like to let babies come out is 37 weeks. You are a preemie.

It is good that I gained too much weight during the pregnancy. You are 5 lbs 13.8 oz at birth. This is small, but a very good size for a preemie. You are 18.5 inches long at birth. You are tall and skinny just like your dad.

Your dad comes into the room and I tell him we have a baby. He knows – he’s been with you in the NICU the whole time. He took pictures of you on his cell phone to show to me. They will not let you come to me because you are on monitors and they will not let me go to you because I am also hooked up to machines and heavily drugged.

They tell me I cannot see you until I can walk to the NICU on my own and I cannot walk until I’m off the drugs. I tell them to stop giving me drugs. They insist that I am in pain and keep giving me shots that knock me out. I am angry and say I just want to see my baby. They tell me that because I had a general anesthetic instead of a spinal, my recovery will be much harder and more painful. I tell them I don’t care – I can handle pain, I just need to see you. They finally quit giving me Demerol.

Finally, after twelve hours, my head is clear enough that I can walk. At midnight, I finally get to see you and touch you. They will not let me hold you yet. You are so small and have so many wires and tubes attached to you. But you are here, you are alive and you are more amazing and beautiful than I ever could have hoped.

The next day they let me hold you to give you your first bottle. We wanted to give you only breast milk, but they tell me that you are too small to nurse right now. The lactation consultant warns us that because you are a preemie, it might be a month or more before you are strong enough to get a good latch and really eat from the breast. They also tell us you are tongue tied, which means your tongue does not stick out over your bottom gums like it should. This will also make breastfeeding harder. Again, I tell them I do not care. I know that breast milk is the best thing for you, especially as a preemie, so I insist on learning how to pump right away. After that first bottle, every time you eat you have a few drops of colostrum from me, whatever I can get out.

Within two days, my milk has come in and you are eating breast milk exclusively from a bottle. We are practicing putting you to the breast a few minutes at a time. They are amazed at how strong you are and how you are not acting sick and weak like a preemie should. On the third morning, they tell us they are going to start treating you like a healthy baby instead of a sick baby. You finally get to stay in our room a few hours at a time, though they keep a scary looking IV in your head (you were strong enough to pull the one out of your hand twice) just in case you get weaker. You never do.

They insist on examining you and weighing you before every feeding. I tell them you are actually latching on and breast feeding on your own, though not for very long. They do not believe me and send someone to watch what we are doing. You have amazed them again. You get tired quickly, but your instincts are strong and true. You are breastfeeding on your own by your fourth day of life – something they said you couldn’t do for several weeks, if ever.

Finally, when you are five days old, they tell us we all get to go home together. Your dad and I have not been able to stop staring at you since we first met you and we are amazed every day that you really are here. We have decided that you have your dad’s lips and chin (with his cute little chin dimple) and my nose. I do not know where these beautiful eyes came from, but I swear I can fall into them forever.

You really are healthy and strong and beautiful. And we love you so much more than we ever thought it would be possible to love another human being. I hope you always, always know how very much we love you. I have a feeling words will never be enough to convey how much this is true.

Merry Christmas, my sweet angel baby. With every breath, I thank God for letting you be here and I know I must have done something very good in my life to deserve to have you in it.

Love,
-Mom-

And Now He's Three

My sweet little Fin is THREE!

I don't quite know where the time has gone, but the last three years just flew by so quickly. What have I been doing with my time?

We've been telling stories and reading books, pretending to be various characters and tickle monsters, building forts and "hospitals" out of couch cushions just to knock them down and giggle, having messy days and writing letters to penpals and ourselves, making wonderful creations out of playdoh and trying to keep Greta from eating it all, snuggling and cuddling and giving lots of kisses, "blowing" hugs and asking so many questions and learning and laughing all day long.

And he's just growing up to be the most amazing little boy. He's smart, he's sweet, he's inquisitive, he's impatient, he's silly, he's beautiful - and he's mine. And he's heard me say it, too. Every once in a while, he'll give me a great big hug and say, "You're MINE!".

This morning, he woke up, gave me a hug and announced, "I'm going to keep you for best forever!" The grammar is not quite there, but I definitely understand his sentiment.

And before I left for work this morning, he and Dave were drawing at the dining table. GaGa showed up and when she asked what he was drawing, he said as clear as day, "I'm drawing Mrs. Potato Head and Mr. Potato Head from Woody!" (Toy Story = Woody).

I got a little choked up and pointed out the Dave that he said PO-TA-TO instead of his usual "Ta-AY-To". Fin just laughed as said, "'Ta-ato?" That's silly! That doesn't sound like 'potato!'"

Yep, he's growing up so very quickly. I'm so blessed.

Greta's 12 Month Doctor Visit

This little girl is definitely following in her brother's footsteps. She's 30.25 inches tall (90%) and weighs 18lbs 12oz (25%). They're both taaaaalll and thin, like their dad.

She also cut her 8th tooth this weekend and is adding new signs just about every day. She had at least 6 when we met with her pediatrician (nurse, eat, more, all done, hat, cat, and one that can mean bird/plane/fan/light, depending on when and where she signs it) and then last night she signed "moon" on the way to the car, too. Still only two real words - Mama and Dada, but she loves to say them over and over and over and over.

It's so fun to walk into the house after work and hear her yelling, "Mama! Mama! Mama!" while she jumps up and down and tries to get to me as quickly as she can.

Sweet little boo.

Happy First Birthday Sweet Greta Boo!

I have so much I want to tell you about your first year and how wonderful and amazing and sweet and cute and funny you are. I'm working on a letter to capture some of those moments, but you hit a fun new milestone today that I thought was worth mentioning even before the letter is done.

You took your first steps today!

You've been doing tons and tons of finger walking for a few weeks now, and in the past few days or so, you've been trying to stand on your own, but you still would sit down a few seconds after realizing you weren't holding on to anything.

But today you took a few steps here and there during your birthday party! I don't think you ever went more than 3 or 4 steps, but you were so proud of yourself. We're all so proud of you, too!

By the end of the evening, you were pulling up using only one finger and then standing on your own for 15-20 seconds at a time. I have a feeling you'll be running before we know it.

Happy Birthday, my sweet baby girl. Mommy and Daddy (and Finny) love you soooo much!