My Little Valentine

Not wanting to miss a moment of her first Valentine's Day, my little girl woke up at exactly 4:56 this morning. After cursing under my breath at not wanting to get out of bed, I scooped Evelyn out of her crib and we played and snuggled for three hours until she went back to sleep.

I only lost my cool once when she made a game of pinching the backs of my arms.

I've enjoyed many fleeting moments today during which I find myself undeniably happy at the face of my valentine this year. Sometimes, while I'm at work, I see a couple holding hands at the dinner table and staring contentedly into one another's eyes while they wait on their entrees. I can't help but envy them for a brief minute.

But if there's one thing that both my life and my job have taught me, it's how to appreciate reality for what it is. When I tear my eyes away from those (few and far between) happy couples, I often wonder how much of their movie-quality affection is merely a manifestation of their need to feel like a night out together must be special. Am I sounding cynical yet?

I remember very well my favorite couple to wait on. They were easily in their 70s, but wily as ever. When the woman expressed difficulty in speaking to me due to a bout with laryngitis, I took her dinner order and suggested a cup of soup to make her feel better. "No thanks, but I will take a Maker's on the rocks, please."

Without her noticing, the gentleman across from her smiled at her and ordered a Woodford Reserve for himself. For almost two hours, they sipped bourbon and took nibbles of food off the other's plate. Seeing their level of comfort with one another as if they knew no other way to live made me enjoy being their server, and not just because they left a generous tip.

I feel that comfort with my daughter. And that's why she's my valentine. Memories from before she arrived are now hazy and incomplete. The times when I find myself frustrated by her are quickly eclipsed when she coos or brushes my face with her tiny cherub hand.

This very moment, Evie is deeply immersed in baby dreamland while she sleeps in my lap. My valentine gift to her was a tiny pot of Forget-Me-Nots that I'm hoping to grow in the window. I don't have to ask her to "Be Mine." She already is, and I am hers.

Back in the Saddle

In the last two months, I have mentally noted, "Today, I will blog" so many times that if I added up the time spent making that promise to myself, I could have written at least three posts. So after a two-month break/hiatus/manifestation of my procrastination, I'm happy to say that I'm back to blogging with more fervency than ever. As you may have noticed, I revamped the template this morning, (still not happy with it). I'm going to have to get my tech-savvy 12-year-old brother to help me get the background I really want...

I'm finding it rather disgraceful that my daughter is roughly 40% older than the last time I wrote. Now that my guilt is laid bare, I'm happy to report that she is amazing me more and more every day. She can now:

• Eat baby food! (I have lots to say about that.)
• Pull herself up from a sitting position.
• Not quite crawl, but rather scoot backwards and rotate herself.
• Sit on her own.
• Babble emphatically, much the same as I do.

As I type, Evelyn is perched on my lap watching my fingers swiftly peck the keyboard. Every 30 seconds or so, she throws her pacifier on the floor only to stare up at me with a look that says, "You gonna get that?" If I decline her unspoken request, she resorts to tugging at my shirt sleeve and stuffing as much of it as possible into her tiny trap.

Such is my life as a mother to a 7-month-old.

Back in December, I wrote a post about what happens to your hair post-pregnancy. (If you don't remember, it falls out!) You may find it entertaining to know that where I underwent a massive shedding episode last year, my hair has begun to regrow. Now I find myself with about 85% shoulder-length locks and 15% mousy-brown, inch-long peach fuzz that resembles Evie's hairstyle a little too much.

Though we're already halfway through February, I would like to make a new year's resolution here and now to get back to basics with this blog, aka actually writing on it. I started this collection of thoughts and experiences so that down the road, I would have a detailed account of my daughter's early life to share with her.

I'm not about to give up on that.

Blah Blah Blah

Lately, I've been more reassured than ever that my daughter is going to be like me. Why, you may ask? Because she loves to talk.

For weeks now, Evie has become increasingly vocal while she discovers new sounds and volumes.

Her journey into the exciting world of babbling began with raspberries- short, slobbery bursts of air between her lips. Over and over and over.

Next we moved up to yelling. No, not upset yelling, just yelling. It seemed as though she just wanted to see how loud her voice could possibly get. And so, for a couple weeks, out of nowhere she would say, "Aaaaaaaauuuuuuugggghhhhhh!!!" Obviously this time period involved a lot of me sprinting from room to room to make sure she wasn't hurt or unhappy only to find her calmly staring up at me with an air of deviousness in her face.

Once she discovered volume control, or lack thereof, Evelyn moved on to screeching. When Thanksgiving rolled around, my poor grandfather had to turn down his hearing aid a bit so my daughter wouldn't shatter his ear drums.

Finally, Evie started gargling. From a reclining position, she gathers enough spit in her mouth to gargle it. It may sound gross, but trust me when I say it's hilarious. If you've had children before, you understand how many extra loads of laundry I'm doing just because everything gets covered in baby spit. If you haven't had children yet, brace yourself and your washing machine.

Currently, Evelyn enjoys making a combination of all these sounds- raspberries, yells, screeches and gurgles. But just yesterday, we reached a monumental milestone: The First Tooth. And yes, I write it with caps because it's just that important to me. So now, my Peanut is constantly searching for things to stuff in her mouth to gnaw on.

This includes, but is not limited to toys, stuffed animals, blankets, pillows, any article of clothing but especially socks (clean, obviously), mommy's shoulder, mommy's shirt, mommy's fingers, mommy's jacket, mommy's hair, the straps on mommy's purse, the plastic part of her pacifiers, towels, bibs and her own fingers.

The only thing Evie doesn't seem to want to teethe on is her teether! Every time I give it to her, she scowls and only tries to suck on it.

As you can plainly tell, I spend a lot of time focused on my daughter's little gob. Given the extra loads of laundry and toys necessary to appease her oral fixation, in Evelyn's case, talk is not cheap.

Hairy Situation

For months, I blogged about the symptoms and side effects of pregnancy, but anyone who has given birth before knows that the changes to the maternal body continue long after baby has left the building.

One of my favorite hormonal indulgences of pregnancy was the full head of luscious locks. Since I was a little girl, I've had a fine, stringy mop of blonde hair. Pregnancy, however, brought with a sense of fullness not only to my figure, but also to my mane.

You can imagine my annoyance, then, when I found myself with fistfuls of my own hair wrapped around my fingers every time I took a shower. Slowly but surely, that extra fullness was disappearing.

Here's how it works: At any given time, approximately 90% of your hair is in a growing phase while the remaining 10% enters a resting phase before eventually falling out. During pregnancy, hormone levels cause a greater percentage of hairs to enter the resting phase without falling out. When hormone levels return to normal post-partum, those rested hairs bid adieu to the scalp, causing what appears to be excessive shedding.

So really, it's just those damn hormones messing with me some more. You would think Mother Nature would be a bit kinder to someone who shoved a bowling ball through their birth canal. But no.

Shampooing has become a tedious exercise since I'm trying not to go bald. Mousse has become a must. It doesn't help that Evelyn enjoys pulling at chunks of my hair when she can get her chubby fingers on it.

If you're anything like me and find yourself plagued by lost hairs that cling to your clothes, drain and baby, here are my tips:

• Common sense: Be gentle with your hair. Wash and rinse gingerly without getting your fingers all caught up in it. When it's time to brush, don't use a fine tooth comb unless you want to pick the hairs out of it later.


• DO NOT sleep with your hair in a ponytail. At night, let your poor follicles rest without elastic tugging at them.


• Keep taking your prenatal vitamins.


• Buy some mousse to add fullness and body.


• Get a trim. I cut off about eight inches of my hair when Evie was about six weeks old so my hair wouldn't look stringy.

At the end of the day, there's not much you can do about those crazy hormones except be grateful that they helped you create a sweet little baby. I'm just praying that Evelyn and I won't be sporting matching hairstyles of nothing more than peach fuzz any time soon.

Sock It To Me

I found myself contemplating what to write about for this week's Mommy Must-Have yesterday while I was getting Evie dressed. As I looked at her bare feet and instinctively reached for my favorite accoutrement to cover her little tootsies, it hit me.

I have been in love with these socks from trumpettetoo (yes, it's lowercased) ever since I got them as a gift. When I first saw them in the box, I fell in love with their obvious cuteness, but now I realize how practical they are!

At first glance, most people don't realize that Evie is not, in fact, wearing real shoes. Once they do catch on, I almost always hear, "Those are precious!"

Yes, yes. They're adorable. But allow me to tell you why I really love them...

For a long time now, Evelyn has enjoyed standing with help from someone propping her up. Shoes confuse her. They make her clumsier and less balanced than she already is. Socks, however, keep her warm without making her feel like she's got straight jackets on her feet.

Though babies are typically exempt from the "No shirt, no shoes, no service" rule, there are occasions that demand a sense of dressiness. These socks are the best of both worlds. Look good; feel good. I've layered them over tights and paired them with jeans. They're perfect for church or a dinner outing.

Because I received these socks as a gift, I didn't know where they even came from until I Googled them. Not surprising, they come from Target. A pack of three costs $8, and they also have plenty of styles for both boys and girls. I would recommend them for the classic Practical Mom/Stylish Baby duo.

The Cold War

Needless to say, Evelyn and I have a lot of close contact. If she drools, it ends up on my shirt. If she poops, I wipe her butt. So it only makes sense that if Evie sneezes, there's a good chance she did so all over my face.

This is how I caught a cold.

Four days ago, Evie woke up with a stuffy nose. I gingerly wiped it for her and went on with the day occasionally wiping a boogie or two from her sweet face. But that night, I felt the telltale tickle in my throat that said, "Congratulations, Mama. You and baby are sharing a cold!"

For the last few days, Evie and I have been sneezing, coughing and groaning through the Thanksgiving holiday. Don't get me wrong, we had a great time with family and food, but it wasn't without a zillion tissues and regular forehead checks for fevers.

Thankfully, I was worse off between the two of us. We both, however, shared matching diminished appetites and bright red noses.

As with everything else, the world did not stop turning until baby and I recovered. With tissues in my pockets and Sudafed in my bloodstream, I trudged forth to shift after shift at work while Evie continued with her taxing life of eating, pooping and sleeping.

The worst thing about taking care of an under-the-weather baby? The treatment. Since Evie can't share Dayquil with me, the most I could do for her was to suck out her snot with a suction bulb and wipe her face. If you've ever had a baby, you know they don't enjoy this.

As of this moment, the Peanut and I are almost fully recovered. While I ponder what ailments await us in the future, I can't help but giggle every time I hear a boogery snort from Evie's crib while she sleeps.

Mommy Must-Haves!

Young mothers- any mothers, really- form an intricate network of communication. It doesn't matter if you've never met someone in your entire life; if you have the same stroller, it's a basis for conversation.

That being said, the most frequented topic of chit-chat is consumerism. And why wouldn't it be? One study found that new mothers spend approximately $7,000 by the time their child reaches his or her first birthday. Which brings me to my point...

A lot of people ask me which baby products are Must-Haves and why. Because I often repeat the same speeches over and over, I thought I would turn it into a new blog segment, especially since I'm trying to get back in the habit of writing more.

With that, I present to you my first Mommy Must-Have:

This charming rainbow of plastic is called the "Ring O Links," made by Sassy. When I first created my baby registry, I made sure to put plenty of lower-priced items on the list. But when I pulled these out of a bag at my baby shower, they might as well have been a baby flat-screen TV. Call it a sixth sense, but I knew they would make an awesome toy.

Evelyn loves these little rings. Every time she sees them, she reacts as if they are brand new. I have a feelings she loves the spectrum of colors, and unlike some of her other toys, these are small enough to fit perfectly in her tiny grip.

The ring comes with eight links total, and they have different textures: smooth, bumps and ridges. Evie gets to feel the different sensations every time she picks them up. Additionally, the black stripes on the main ring are rubbery, making it easier to hold if baby wants to grab the whole thing and wave it around. (She does.)

Mommy loves these because they are, in a word, easy. I can throw them in my purse or the diaper bag. I can link each ring together to make a chain and hang it from just about anywhere, (great for car rides). If they get dropped or dirty, no problem. Just throw them in the dishwasher. The best thing of all is the price tag, only $2.99. We take these everywhere because if they get lost, it's no big deal to replace them.

When it comes to baby toys, I subscribe to the theory of keeping it cheap and simple. If she's anything like me, Evie will only want to play with boxes and pots by the time she can walk. In the meantime, I think I've found the missing link! ;)

Becoming "Mom"

Today is November 15, 2011. One year ago today was the first full day I spent with the understanding that my life was no longer a solo act.

Shortly after dinner time on November 14, 2010, I found myself squating over a stick in a less-than-clean bathroom. I remember saying out loud, "Please. Please." I can't be sure what I was praying for as the results slowly flooded over the pregnancy test. I know I wasn't necessarily wishing for any particular outcome, but rather that everything would be ok- that I would be ok.

And then, it appeared: A tiny blue plus sign in the window. For the briefest moment, the world stopped spinning while my life palpably changed forever. I stared at that plus sign as if it might start speaking to me any second before I quietly tiptoed out of the bathroom as if silence might help.

One year ago today, I woke up at 6 a.m. and waited for the University of Kentucky's Student Health Services to open so I could make an appointment, even though their phone lines weren't active until 9. They say the darkest part of the night is just before dawn, and I laid there in that darkness while crushing amounts of terror and excitement washed over me all at once. I remember those passing hours as if they were only this morning.

Finally, I made my way to Student Health only to pee in a cup and have someone walk up and say, "You're definitely pregnant." A kind, but stern middle-aged woman then sat me down in her office and handed me paper after paper on my different options before she pulled out a plastic model of the female reproductive system and explained exactly how an abortion works. Only a moment later, she explained to me what I need to look for in a prenatal vitamin and it hit me- This woman probably sees panicked, young, pregnant students all the time. It's her job to present every option and show no bias whatsoever.

I walked back out into that crisp, Fall day with my tiny hands clutching a fistful of papers and a new outlook on the world.

Though the fear was overwhelming, it was also the least alone I have ever felt in my life. There I was, still the same feisty, outgoing little fireball on the outside, no different from the day before. But on the inside, I held the most precious little secret I could ever have imagined. Every day from then on was a team effort within my body. I housed and nourished that little peanut, and in return she offered me the most sincere form of comfort.

One year ago today, when I was just over one month pregnant, I discovered that I would be a mother. At that time, my daughter was a tiny ball of cells, tissue and an inaudible heartbeat. Now, she's sleeping in her crib across the room from me. I can't even fathom where I'll be in another year...

All the Single Ladies

Allow me to provide you with a piece of little-known knowledge: Single parenthood is tough.

As I'm sure you're well aware, daylight savings time recently gave us an extra hour. By "us," I mean anyone who doesn't have an infant.

Evelyn gets tired at the same time every night these days. She's almost always fast asleep in her crib by 10:30. I, being the night owl that I am, force myself to put away the laptop around 1 or 2 a.m. Evie then wakes up at 6:30 to eat, and if I'm lucky, she goes back to sleep for a couple hours.

And then daylight savings happened. Evie now dozes off around 9 and wakes up around 5:30, but I'm still retiring between 1 and 2. So every morning for the last week, I've been squinting my eyes open and searching the room for even a glimmer of sunlight while my daughter howls for breakfast.

Without fail, I always look around me to see if someone- anyone- will grant my truest wish and take care of Evie's pre-dawn demands for me. And without fail, no one magically appears.

Such is the plight of a single parent. Sure, there are plenty of people who want to help me with Evie, but you can never go through the day assuming that anyone will help you. You start and stop the waking hour under the pretense that it's all on you.

Luckily for me, I have an amazing, helpful family who has given me more than I could ask for. I wonder, then, if it's the mere characteristic of being a single parent that feels so overwhelming?

I will say this in praise of singledom: Every day is a girls day. Our room glows with shades of purple. We don't have to share the closet. Every morning, I savor the peaceful moments of solitude with my daughter. Every night, we say her prayers and lay her down to sleep before I go watch my guilty pleasures on television.

So here I am, at 12:17 a.m. I've got at least another hour in me, but as I write this I can hear Evie turning her dream-filled head from side to side as if to remind me that not only is she in the room, but breakfast is in five short hours.

Birthday Girls

Today was my 22nd birthday. Woo hoo.

One year ago today, I was housing a tiny sprout of a baby in my belly and had no idea. In fact, I still had three and a half weeks before I would even suspect a thing. I can't even begin to describe how drastically my life has changed in one year.

This time last year, I was tossing back Irish car bombs and shots of vodka. Today I enjoyed homemade pasta sauce with spinach ravioli, (and maybe a couple of peach mango martinis).

This time last year I put on four-inch heels to go out on the town. Today I wore a long-sleeved raglan that got covered in drool and some brand new fuzzy socks, courtesy of my grandmother.

This time last year, I celebrated my birthday with friends who wanted nothing more than to watch me pour liquor down my throat. Today I took care of my daughter, the same as I have for the last three and a half months.

When I woke up this morning and looked over at Evie, her face didn't say, "Happy Birthday, Mom!" Instead, she whined and squirmed until I shoved a boob in her mouth. She cried in the car while we ran errands. She pooped in her diaper while I was eating cake. She even slobbered on my face when I held her up above my head. In short, Evelyn did not care that today was my birthday.

Unlike other days, however, she stayed quiet while I ate my dinner, happily glaring at a muted episode of Spongebob on TV. Trust me, this is a wonderful birthday gift. Normally I have to choke down a bowl of cereal for dinner while Evie threatens to fuss any second.

Believe me when I say that I am happy to be a whole year away from my former life. Evie has made my life so much better, so much more rewarding, and no number of vodka shots could numb me into the bliss I feel every time she smiles her big gummy grin.

You could say that Evie was a birthday surprise from last year. Today I held her and knew with all certainty that she was the greatest gift I could ever receive, even if she does slobber on my face.