From day one many people have said it. Now it’s undeniable. Adele looks an awfully lot like her daddy.
That’s not a bad thing at all. I happen to think her daddy is very cute.
But, I carried her for nine months in my belly. For two of those months she felt like a cannonball. I birthed her — butt first. I got up for all but about a dozen of her nighttime feedings.
So, please, someone tell me that she has a little of me in there somewhere.
Floyd Landis admitting to doping his way through his professoinal cycling career, including his 2006 Tour de France “victory.” I had given up hope on Landis years ago and honestly had put him pretty much out of my mind. Until today.
So, yesterday Floyd admitted to doping. He couldn’t take the overwhelming feeling of guilt of having lied to so many people. Heck, he even took people’s money — soliciting nearly $1 million towards his legal defense fund. He wrote a book, “Positively False: The Real Story of How I Won the Tour de France.” He has clearly been living in a fantasy world where he perpetuated his own lies ad naseum.
A reviewer on Amazon.com noted that Floyd’s book should now be moved to the fiction section. Uh…yeah.
Of course, Lance Armstrong is one of the pros that Floyd is accusing of doping. That’s original. No one has ever accused Lance of such a thing before. You know what? The officials should start testing Armstrong.
You know what? Whatever, Floyd. I’m glad that your conscience finally got the best of you and you decided to clean. Thanks for the honesty — better late than never. But, I still think you’re jerk. Actually, now I think you’re an even bigger jerk.
My first mother’s day as a mom was pretty low key. That’s fine because that’s the way Jeff and I roll with holidays. I had everything I needed to make the day feel special — a beautiful, sweet baby girl and an adorable husband. (I won’t lie that I also absolutely loved getting a “mommy” card from my girl.) Despite Adele’s teething and resulting out-of-sortedness, it was a great day to celebrate our new family. (And those of you that know me won’t be at all surprised to know that I’m already thinking about what Adele and I will do for Jeff for Father’s Day!)
I kept thinking about last year’s Mother’s Day when people at church wished me a happy mother’s day and insisted that I was no less a mother with the baby in my belly than I would be with the baby in my arms. It didn’t feel right to me then; I was just a girl growing a baby.
I guess I’m still a girl growing a baby, but now I can see and enjoy the fruit of my labors. I can see the stacks of clean, freshly laundered and folded cloth diapers, the cubes of frozen, homemade baby food, the drawer full of neatly folded six-month size clothes, the car seat and accompanying toys in the backseat, and the stroller in the trunk. They all point to my new role as mom.
But more than all those things is this very sweet, very adorable, sometimes sticky little girl who beams when I stroll into her daycare at 5:15 p.m. and who won’t let out of her sight until she closes her eyes for the night. I love that girl, and I sure do love being her mom.
I can’t believe my sweet baby girl is nine months old today. She has now been out of my belly for longer than she was in it. She has officially changed my life forever, made me a mother, and caused me to feel love, joy, heartbreak, protectiveness, and worry like I never have before.
I used to love to sleep. Ask anyone and they’ll tell you how much I treasured sleep. Poor Jeff — every night when I would crawl into bed, I would remark that it was my most favorite part of the day and then say something like “sweet, sweet sleep.”
I still love to sleep. But now I don’t get nearly as much.
When I was pregnant, I worried about how I would adjust to changes to my sleeping schedule. And, I had reason to worry because the changes were indeed drastic! Between labor and being alone in a hospital room with a new baby, I started off my motherhood adventure with a three-night sleep deficit. It was rough.
But, I was so happy. I actually remarked to someone during that time that I was “blissfully exhausted.”
Adele was not a good sleeper for the first — no joke – six or seven months of her life. I celebrated at 12 weeks when she slept for five solid hours for the first time. And, it’s only been in the past week (no kidding) that she has started sleeping completely through the night.
So, my sleep that I so cherished has been a bit scarce. And you know what? I barely care.
Motherhood is the craziest thing. So many things that were so important to me just aren’t anymore. They’ve been bumped off the list by the sweetest, snuggliest baby girl. Now my weekend mornings start at 6 a.m., just like my workday mornings. And for the most part it’s fine. Don’t get me wrong — I wish she would understand that she could stay snuggled in her crib for an extra hour or two on Saturdays. And there are times when I ask Jeff to get up with her if I’ve been up with her a few times throughout the night.
I still love to sleep, I do, but I love Adele more. She’s not always going to want to snuggle with me in the morning. She’s not always going to wear footy jammies and have sticky-uppy hair. She’s not always going to sit in her highchair, bang on her tray, and yell “ma-ma-ma-ma” while I get her breakfast ready. I have to relish these moments while they last.