I'm a quarter!

People, I turned 25 last week.  I say it with drama, but really it didn't feel like such a big deal to me.  When I turned 24 all I could think about was how in one more year I'd be 25 and blah blah blah, I know we all know how we feel when our birthdays take us by surprise.

I think something about having James around distracts me from dwelling on me getting older, because I'm so much more concerned with how fast he is growing.

I had a quiet little birthday.  My mom took me and the kiddos out to lunch, to a cute little cafe where I had a sandwich that included melted brie.  So good.  And then, being the sweet mommy she is who knows exactly what I like, she made me a pear-almond upside-down cake and brought dinner for me and Tony.

James had hungry eyes for the cake, and now I'm excited for his first birthday.

Tony's gift to me was a couple of Disney movies to expand our collection (The Lion King, and Lady & the Tramp) which was perfect really, because these days I'm all about hoarding the happiness for my family, and what is happier than Disney movies when you're a kid?  Can't wait to share with James some of my favorites.  (Star Wars is on Christmas, fyi.)

I birthday'd to myself this shirt from Threadless, and a haircut which I haven't photographed yet.

I know, it's mirrored, I'm sorry.

August is the month of birthdays in my family.  My dad, my mom, my sister, 4 or 5 of my nieces/nephews, and myself.  It was also in August that I learned I was pregnant, one year ago.  I love August.

So, the wonderful thing about blogging - and, more pointedly, the wonderful thing about people who dedicatedly blog - is that there are all these stories you get to experience vicariously through other people.  For those of you who are more social in the real world than I am, this is maybe old news.  But to me it's still exciting.  One of the bloggers who's blog I love living through is Ashley Ann.  I've linked to her before and I will likely link to her a hundred times, because she is so inspiring and positive and down to earth - like someone you could really be friends with.  Her current adventure is particularly exciting: she's in China, getting ready to bring home her adopted daughter.  EXCITING.  I highly suggest visiting her blog, Under the Sycamore, if you want to experience the adventure with her.

Happy Sunday!

A little about James + a little about why I've been sad lately

My sweet little boy, finally asleep after about two hours of fighting.  I think he's entering a new stage, and the world is becoming more and more interesting to him.  He doesn't want to miss anything.  He's started reaching for things beyond just his face-zone, he watches me from across rooms.

He isn't very shy yet.  Everyone gets a smile.  He especially loves to smile at himself in the mirror. (I haven't been able to get a good picture of that - my phone's camera isn't very high quality.  Plus it was bought used and is a little beat up, there are dust specks in the lens that I can't get to, so all my pictures have those dark spots.  Anyway.)
Another thing about the littlest Wade, is he is LOUD with a capital LOUD.  Sometimes it sounds like a tropical bird got stuck in the house.  Tony and I are both pretty quiet and reserved, so it tickles me that our son likes to screech and squeal just for the delight of doing so.  He lays on his blanky and just listens to his own voice.  I love it.


Life has been marginally crazy for me lately; at least, I don't have as much downtime as I used to, when I'm at home.  Work is a different story.  I have TONS of downtime at work, but all the things I want to do with that time are at home, or have to do with home.  I have a few projects I've been able to take with me, but still once I get home I'm busy with laundry or dishes or baths or practicing the piano for my new church calling, or just taking care of the boy and spending time with the Dad.  Sometimes I get frustrated, but there have been things lately that really make my challenges seem small.  One involves a friend whose wife just had their first baby; I won't go into detail because I haven't talked to them about doing so first, but their sweet little girl was born with some complications and they're not sure how long she'll be with them.  They don't live close to me - I've been keeping up through Facebook and their blog - but I feel very close to them and their story.  Not quite like it's happening to me, but it's really struck home.  So the past few weeks my heart has been aching terribly for families of children with special needs.

So I've been made extremely grateful for my own little family.  I sometimes feel guilty, that I (so far) haven't been asked to deal with some of the challenges that others face.  I don't take my healthy boy or my family or our situation for granted.  Each day is a blessing.  I'm grateful for every struggle to get him to take a nap.  I'm grateful to hear his cries because I know he's just tired, not recovering from surgery or enduring hospital stays.  I'm grateful to not have his projected life expectancy something I have to consider daily.  And I've been praying with all my heart for those who do.

I wish I could better convey how my heart aches.  Pictures of my friend's baby girl remind me a little of James, and I think of him when he was tinier and newborn, and pure and innocent like all newborns, and healthy, and I'm just not sure I could've endured the agony if he wasn't. As I read these blogs and stories of the mothers of these babies, I'm in awe of their strength and optimism, and especially their faith.  And it really brings me down into myself, because I know I am not as strong as they are.

As James was being born we had a little scare where his heart rate kept dropping.  Everything was fine as I started pushing, but after a few pushes things changed.  I didn't even realize anything was wrong, but suddenly the room was full of people and they kept rolling me around, changing my position for each push to see if that would make things easier for James.  I remember feeling panic creep up my throat but I forced myself to stay calm so I could do my best at getting him out.  Eventually they had to call in an OB who used foreceps to get him out, and then everything was fine again.  And that's the extent of my "nightmare".  It was scary for me at the time, but in hindsight and in reality it was nothing.  So small compared to some of the things others are asked to deal with in this life.

I could probably beat this topic into the ground.  I just needed to write about it for a little bit, to get some of the thoughts and feelings out of me because I'm starting to feel very heavy with them.  Of course, I don't know what the future holds, and maybe someday I will be handed a challenge I feel is too big for me.  When that happens I hope I'll rise to it, and for now I'm grateful for my blessings.

And here's a silly picture of James to lighten the mood a little:

$$ + tell me if I should buy this

Okay people, now I need your help. I've got some extra babysitting cash burning a hole in my pocket and then, as it do, this coat came swinging along on Zulily. And I think I like it - I mean, just check out that tiered hemline:

So yay or nay?  Also, it's on crazy good sale, if that makes a difference.

While we're on the subject of fashion, can I just get an amen for clothes costing too much dang money?  I mean, I do understand that you just can't get everything for free and you get what you pay for and blah blah blah but seriously, $68 for a sweater? (On sale, no less.)  I'd find more examples but I know you know what I'm talking about.  What makes that sweater worth that many monies?  Surely it didn't cost near that much to make?  Why do clothes-sellers need that much profit?  And even more importantly, ladies, why are we okay with paying it??  Now before I get ahead of myself I'm going to go ahead and slap my high horse on the rear to give it a giddyup because two weeks ago I paid $50 for a pair of skinny jeans I know it did not cost $50 to make, so I'm no exception to the crazy.  But it's juuuust soooo ridiculoooouuuus.  I work hard for my money; I hate that in order for me to feel like I'm dressed pretty it has to disappear so fast.  And trust me, I know that $50 is not a lot for jeans.  I mean, I watch What Not To Wear.  I know what prices are acceptable in the fashion world.  Also I'm a lot positive that Clinton and Staci would roll their eyes at this whole paragraph.


(Of course, Clinton and Staci can feel free to buy me a whole new wardrobe at any time.  I volunteer.)

This post is now too silly, and must end.

Or maybe Slash?

So I woke up this morning from a deep dreaming sleep desperately needing to know the name of Metallica's drummer. Or was it their bass player? I think I may have even asked Tony about it first thing, but that might have been a dream too because I remember looking underneath a plastic kiddie pool for the answer and I'm pretty sure we don't have one of those in our bedroom. But I really needed to know his name, and for the life of me I couldn't remember. I was sure I knew it. So I forced myself awake enough to google Metallica's band members but none of their names were ringing a bell. Now I'm almost positive I was trying to think of Jimmy Page or Sammy Hagar, even though I only know about Hagar from an episode of My Name Is Earl. Then I was certain that James needed to be fed, but we both fell back asleep no more than a minute into it and ended up being late for work. The moral of the story is that classic rock and metal are vital subjects to have a basic knowledge of in case of emergency?

Just another little update

Hullo everyone.  Been a while.  Tony and I are lounging in our matching recliners watching a show on Netflix about corn and the many strange things scientists make corn do, so what a perfect time to dump all my thoughts and goings-on with you, thought myself.  James is napping on the big bed (I knew you were wondering.)

By the way, this corn thing is fascinating.  It's making my starch tooth tingle.  Oh how I love my starchy foods.  Grits mixed with scrambled eggs has been my comfort breakfast this week and I'll make no apologies for it.  That's the rule about comfort food.

So this past Wednesday my baby became a 3-month-old, and it's with mixed emotions I say I'm okay with it.  As preposterous as it is that only yesterday he was a squeaky, eyelashless 1-day-old, I feel a little less surprised at his bigness at this milestone than previous ones.  His eyelashes have been long and luxurious for a while now, and he still squeaks just at higher volumes.  Fingers are the flavor of the day.

And lately this little rascal thinks he wants to roll over, but I think he's just impressed with his own cleavage.

 

Other new things are almost-laughing, scooting backwards on the couch, high-pitched squeals just for the fun of it, grabbing hanging toys and trying to get them into the mouth, sudden, uncontrollable crying fits when he's hungry NOW for some reason, and smiling at me really cute-like from the carseat when I drag him mom-shopping after work.  (Mom-shopping is dubbed as such to distinguish it from normal grocery shopping, for mom-shopping is the fun kind of shopping when mom gets pretty new things just for her own self.  Note: James never smiles so cute when we go grocery shopping.)

But some things haven't changed.  Like how even though he sleeps through the night mostly, I still find myself waking up several times to make sure he's still breathing.  And how my heart just up and melts at his scrunchy face when he stretches.  And how I can't clip his toenails because those toes always wiggle when I touch them, even in his sleep.  And can you say actual twinkle in the eye when he smiles?

Yeesh.

Lately our favorite thing to do during the day when we're at work with Missy Moo is go to the zoo, even though really I'm the only one who appreciates it and it's been 100-plus degrees lately so we're all pretty vitamin D'd out.  It's still nice to get out of the house and hear some peacocks.  I should probably be pacing myself, however, because I come home so drained by the heat and humidity that I sit down and don't get up until bedtime, and the pile of clean laundry on our dresser is reaching a level I like to call RIDICULOUS.

Anyway, here's some more of my favorite pictures from the past couple of months. 

 Happy weekend!

If you can find a point, you win a prize.

My name is Kayla, and I'm having a moment where I feel I should be recording my thoughts and what-not via blog post, but I'm almost 100% positive that whatever it is I'll try to say will end up not being said, on account of my brain and things.  Sometimes there are just too many words and too many possible sentence variations, which makes me want to give up before I start.

Things I would like to do:
- actually redesign the blog so that it looks good
- post lots and lots of pictures all the time
- write cute little stories about my day
- try yet again to put into words how much I love my son
- maybe a post about my freshly painted living room?

Things that I feel my life has no time for:
- all of the above.

I've been getting the feeling lately, in little sneaky snippets, like fairies peeking through bushes, that I'm living a fantastic life.  Fantastically bad, and fantastically wonderful, and all of that all at different times and the same time.  Motherhood has magnified it.  Did you know that my baby giggled when I made a funny sound at him today?  Two and a half months ago he was lying on my stomach taking his first crying breaths, and today he's looking me in the eyes and laughing as we copy each others' sounds.  A year ago he was microscopic.  If that isn't magical then I don't know what.  And my body grew him.  God sent me that little spirit, and my body used materials it had on hand (and borrowed from his daddy) and created a tiny little body and grew it big enough until it could handle itself, and now I can hold it in my arms and it smiles at me.  IT'S MAGICAL, IS WHAT I'M TRYING TO SAY.

People, for real.  Just feel the love with me.

Also, the sweet little lady from Yugoslavia who lives in the house behind us, who sings and yells at her dog every day while she gardens, sent over the fence a cute little outfit for James.  How she even knew we had a baby, I don't know.  Not only does she know, but she went shopping for him!  Who does that?

Life is cool.


(P.S. Anyone know where a girl can get one of those cute Panama-y straw fedoras I'm seeing all the cute people wear these days?)

Where is that dang pause button.

This is James at 1 week and 2 months, respectively, and I'm trying to wrap my mind around it. Oh how I love these chubby little cheeks, but oh how I miss that tiny little newborn.  I miss his unfocused eyes and his misshapen head (well, more misshapen), and I miss how his left hand would always be turned palm-out, and darn it all if I don't miss the frail, oh-gosh-I-hope-I-don't-break-him part of the newborn stage.  I never thought I'd say this, but I could be the mother of newborns forever.  I could wake up 3 times every night and soldier through every scream-filled diaper change if I could just snuggle that teensy baby body forever.

I knew from the moment he was born that life would move too fast.  It seems so unfair; I spent my first year as a nanny of a newborn thinking that each month, each milestone couldn't come fast enough.  I couldn't wait for Missy Moo to be bigger, stronger, more independent.  But with James it's seemed that since they first laid him on my belly, all red and complaining, that time has moved with frightening speed.

This post by Nat the Fat Rat just about sums it up.

I know I should probably be trying to write more at this time in life, to record all the things I don't want to forget.  I'll try, but it's hard to pull myself away from experiencing James firsthand.  I only get to smell and kiss and cuddle him as a baby for a limited time.  (We have family in town this weekend and it's been difficult to share.)

But I will try to keep y'all updated adequately.  Like how the new thing is crying when he gets laid down because he doesn't want to be alone, and even more exciting: toy-batting!   Stay tuned.