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Ella, all grown up

By Peyton

Ella has had two huge milestones recently: her first steps and her first birthday. My head is still reeling from all of it.

Last Monday, I was home with her, and we were both nursing a miserable cold/sinus infection/creeping crud. We hadn't showered and had spent most of the day on the floor of the den in the basement. The den has the big TV as well as most of Ella's toys scattered all over the floor, plus a huge comfy leather chair and a sofa. It's where we spend most of our free time.

That rainy afternoon, Ella was playing on the floor with her blocks, books, and noisy toys, and I was propped up against the coffee table playing with her. She pulled herself up on a large wooden block toy (kind of like the toys in the doctor's office with the wires and beads), looked at me, smiled, and walked straight towards me! It was about five steps, all by herself, and she was so proud! I grabbed her, pulled her onto my lap, and gave her a huge hug, fighting back the tears of joy in my eyes. It's just about the only time when I've been happy to be sick -- perhaps I wouldn't have gotten to see her first steps otherwise!

Since then, she's gradually grown more confident in her walking, taking steps more frequently. But nothing will ever compare to the sheer joy that we both experienced, together, despite how crummy we were feeling on that rainy Monday in the den.

On Thursday, Ella celebrated her first birthday. Her grandparents flew up from Florida, and we had a party with a few friends on Saturday. (Can you believe one of our friends gave her baby Ugg boots? I didn't know there was such a thing.) We gave her a small piece of cake, which she managed to smear all over herself, the high chair, and Mommy. The highchair had to be completely taken apart and washed, and I threw Ella in the bathtub, too.

While it was fun to reminisce about her birth, and to enjoy family and friends, the most important moment for me last week was that moment on the floor of the den, hugging my little girl, celebrating her first steps with her. It was a moment just for us, to be a part of us always.

Peyton is Mommy to Ella, born October 2004, and wife to Colin. She lives outside of D.C. in Falls Church, Virginia.

My rough-and-tumble girl

By Peyton

My daughter is not quite one, but I think she's going to be a tomboy. Maybe it's the age, but there is not a gentle bone in her body. Instead of petting the dogs, she smacks them. She's a blue-jeans-wearing, food-smearing, furniture-climbing baby girl. Instead of crying if she falls down, she just gets back up again. She has to really hit her head (which has happened a couple of times, unfortunately) in order to get upset. 

Ella loves to wrestle on the floor, to be flipped upside down, to have us make funny noises by blowing on her belly. She loves to imitate the dogs by growling, to play in dirt on the rare occasion that we let her down on the ground outside, and to put anything and everything in her mouth. She loves to sit on her Daddy's shoulders, and hates to sit in a stroller. 

I was a dancer when I was younger; I think she's going to be a soccer player. I loved twirly dresses; she hates them because they get in her way. It's going to be a whole new world for me, I think. 

I was envisioning a daughter who would go shopping with me, wear pink (of course, she does now because she's still at the age where Mommy picks everything out), and go to the ballet. I know it's too early to tell, but I just have a sneaking suspicion that her Daddy may have the tomboy he's been wanting.

She is gentle when she's tired, mostly. She buries her head in my neck, puts her arms around me tight, curls herself into a little ball and goes to sleep on Mommy. That's when she holds still long enough for me to smell her baby girl hair, to touch her soft cheeks, and to revel in the wonder that is my baby girl. Because tomboy or girly-girl, she is mine. And that's all that matters to me.   

Peyton is Mommy to Ella, born October 2004, and wife to Colin. She lives outside of D.C. in Falls Church, Virginia.

Preserving the memories

By Peyton

Memories are so important to me. When I was 10, there were six of us (my grandparents lived with my parents, brother and me). My grandmother passed away when I was 11, very suddenly. My grandfather died when I was 14, and my father when I was 17. (The dog followed three years after that when I was 20, so when I turned 23 I was terrified that someone in my family was going to pass away. Fortunately, that didn't happen!)  For some reason, my family never really caught on to the camcorder or VCR when I was younger. As a result, we only have one recording (audio or visual) of my father before he died, and none of my grandparents.

When I was home a few months ago, my mother handed me the VCR tape of my father's 1991 appearance on a morning talk show to discuss the Myrle Beach, S.C., Air Force Base closure (he was an attorney). She told me that she was entrusting me with it because it was broken and she knew I could find someone to fix it. For a few months, it sat in the basement of our house because I had no idea what to do with it -- we don't even have a VCR anymore.

Our friend Jim came over a couple of weeks ago, and I remembered that he owned his own company doing litigation support work (including electronic discovery). I asked him if he could take the tape, restore it, and have it put on a DVD. A few days ago, I got a box from his company, with a DVD, the VCR tape, and a bunch of chocolate in it.

I raced up to my desk at work and put in the DVD. It took me a little while to figure out where on the recording my father was, but all of a sudden -- there he was. He was talking and gesturing and smiling, even. My hand flew up to my mouth and my eyes welled up with tears. I had forgotten so much! I didn't remember his strong Southern accent, or even the pitch of his voice. I had forgotten how his eyes crinkled up in the corners whenever he grinned. But there he was -- over eight years later -- on my computer at work. 

Right then and there, I vowed to do a better job of preserving my family's memories. I want my daughter to know who my father was when she grows up. I want to be able to look back on her childhood and see her crawling and giggling, not just to remember it. And should anything, God forbid, happen to someone in my family, I don't want to just have one scratchy recording of that person. I want something my family members can see.

My husband never knew my father, and I know that nothing will ever bring my father or grandparents back. They will live on in our memories, however.

I just want those memories to be a little bit fresher.

Peyton is Mommy to Ella, born October 2004, and wife to Colin. She lives outside of D.C. in Falls Church, Virginia.

A yard sale for Katrina recovery

By Peyton

I know the Internet is flooded with posts about Hurricane Katrina, so I will spare you my thoughts about it on this site. I do want to take the time, however, to share with you what my family is doing to help out the victims of Hurricane Katrina (and perhaps inspire a few other people). 

We, along with most American families, are pack rats. We have baby clothes, toys, maternity clothes, clothes that I'll never fit into again, an extra TV, computer accessories, household goods, and other miscellaneous stuff. Now, all of the charities are saying that they don't want stuff, they want money. We're going to raise money by having a large yard sale at my house on September 10. Our friends and co-workers are contributing items for the sale, and I've placed an ad in The Washington Post and on Craigslist, among other sites. I'm really hoping for donations, in addition to money from sales, and every last penny will go to the American Red Cross. I also know that a lot of larger corporations are matching employee contributions, so if you can hold a yard sale, and then donate the money through work, that would double your contribution!

Of course, this is just one way of helping out, but it's what we're going to do. I hope to be able to report back to you on the great success of our efforts, and I hope other people will do similar events. 

For more information on the yard sale, if you live in the D.C. area, you can go to my site, http://womaninterrupted.typepad.com. Thanks for listening. Now back to my regularly scheduled programming.      

Ella is doing much better with sleeping through the night -- we can usually get her to sleep until about 5 a.m. now. Thank you for all of the suggestions on this! Also, despite the insane gas prices in the South, my whole family is still going to my grandmother's beach house this weekend. The beach house has always been there; and I can't help but think, there but for the grace of God, goes South Carolina.

Peyton is Mommy to Ella, born October 2004, and wife to Colin. She lives outside of D.C. in Falls Church, Virginia.

Going home, to the beach

By Peyton

Two weeks from Friday, Colin, Ella and I are driving down to South Carolina to spend Labor Day weekend there. My family has an oceanfront beach house in a gated beach community, and every summer since I can remember, we've spent time at the beach house. Those of us who live out-of-state stay at the house, and the relatives who live nearby join us during the day. This year, we will be joined by my brother Hunter and his wife Caroline (who live in Georgia) and my cousin Heather, her husband, Mike, and their children Griffin, 7, and Julia, 2, from North Carolina. Needless to say, it will be a very lively house for the weekend.

Even though my family has moved from house to house as I've grown, the one house that has remained in my life is the beach house. One of my favorite pictures was taken there when I was about seven. In it, my grandmother is posing with all of her grandchildren, from my cousin Heather, then 18, to my cousin Samantha, a toddler at the time. My grandmother is so proud to have all of her "grandbabies" in one picture -- she is simply beaming. We've duplicated the photograph a few times since then, most recently over Labor Day 2003. This year, we'll have a new addition to the picture -- my daughter. 

I can't wait for her to sink her toes into the white sand, to splash in the warm tidal pools on the beach, and to take a nap with her in the hammock on the screened porch.  I can smell the salt air already.

The beach house is also where my bridal party stayed, with us, the week before our wedding. The house was witness to my pre-wedding nerves, my friends and I giggling long into the night, and my husband taking walks with the guys the night before the wedding. The house was there, warm and familiar that cold February we were married, a place to go home to, to get ready in, to celebrate in.

So, we're going home in a couple of weeks. We'll chase Ella and Julia around the kitchen floor, stay up late drinking wine with Heather and Mike, go for beach walks with Hunter and Caroline, and I'll watch my grandmother smother my daughter with kisses. We'll take another picture, all of us with my grandmother. Memories of my father (who is no longer with us) will be shared, laughter will ring, hugs will be given, and I will be so happy to show Ella home.

Peyton is Mommy to Ella, born October 2004, and wife to Colin. She lives outside of D.C. in Falls Church, Virginia.

Girls' Weekend Out

By Peyton

My college roommate is a soon-to-be published novelist (yes, I'm jealous, let's move on) and also mother to Emily, 4, and Alex, 2. We are both in desparate need of a girls' weekend away, so we planned one for the weekend of my birthday in September, in Atlanta. Here's an approximation of how the conversation went (with all profanity omitted).

Me: If I don't get out of here for some girl time, I'm going to go insane. My toenails are neglected. I can't remember the last time I had time to put on more than lipstick and blush in the mornings. My hair doesn't get flat-ironed or curled, I'm lucky if it gets dried all the way. 

Her: You get to dry your hair? I'm so jealous!

Me: I'm still 25! Most people our age are going out every weekend, staying up late, watching whatever they want on TV, blaring music in their cars... what happened?

Her: We got married and got pregnant. Are your single friends from Atlanta going to be there? 

Me: Yes, they are, my high school friends will join us for dinner, I'm sure.

Her: Wait, Mary? Isn't she 5'11", skinny and gorgeous? And single? What's up with that, Peyton? That's just not cool.

Me: Well, she has an "old soul." You'll like her, I promise. Besides, it will be great to get away. We need the Westin, a nice dinner at an expensive restaurant, lots of wine, spa treatments, and lots of shopping.    

Her: I was just saying to my husband the other day that I need to be able to go to the bathroom without notifying three other people first. And why is it that in the mornings, I have to use the kids' bathroom!? Just for once, I'd like to use a bathroom that doesn't have duckies on the shower curtain!

Me: Wait, does it have frogs on it, too? We have that shower curtain!

Her: Yes, from Target! (laughter ensues). Wait, do you have the matching shower curtain rings?

Me: YES! Ella loves them! 

And then I realized, we were so lucky compared to our single friends. We have not only great parents, siblings, and friends, but also great husbands and children. What more could a couple of girls want?

OK, maybe a pedicure. And a bottle of cabernet. 

Peyton is Mommy to Ella, born October 2004, and wife to Colin. She lives outside of D.C. in Falls Church, Virginia.

Just... go... to... sleep!

By Peyton

I'm writing this at 8:49 p.m. as Ella is squrming around on her Daddy across the room. We've had her evening bottle, read her at least half a dozen stories, and rocked her to sleep. I gently put her down in her crib, and like a Jack-in-the-box, she popped up almost immediately. Wide-eyed and bushy-tailed, she crawled from one end of her crib to the other. We tiptoed out of her room and shut the door, only to hear a wailing that resembled that of a small fire engine. My husband, knowing that I have reading for law school (and, of course, this post to write), has taken her into the den for "quiet time."

This is our struggle almost every single evening. Rare is the night when we can put her down and she'll stay down. Just last evening, my husband was up from 1:00 to 3:00 a.m., struggling with getting her to go back to sleep.

We've tried letting her cry it out -- she almost always cries to the point of getting sick, usually within 10 minutes or so. If we put her in the bed with us, she may get good sleep, but we don't. So we have this routine now, of holding her until she goes to sleep, putting her down, and then getting up with her at least once during the night. If she makes it until 5 a.m. without having us get up, we're pretty excited. At this point, we're at our wits' end -- she was nine months old last week.

What else have we tried? We tried "Ferberizing"; that didn't work. We tried music at night, too. We tried "massaging" her back. We told her pediatrician about it, and got some canned advice that was, frankly, common sense. I just don't get it. When she was a younger baby, she would sleep from 9 p.m. - 7 a.m. straight. It was bliss. Right around the time she cut her first tooth, this getting up in the middle of the night started again. (It was a lot easier when she was a newborn and getting up in the middle of the night meant that she needed to eat and go back to sleep.)

So, please, tell me this is a "stage" that she'll grow out of. If it isn't, what are we supposed to do? I have visions of dealing with this next summer, and they aren't pretty. Of course, by that time, maybe she'll understand "just go to sleep!"

Peyton is Mommy to Ella, born October 2004, and wife to Colin. She lives outside of D.C. in Falls Church, Virginia.

Don't make the mama bear mad

By Peyton

Last week, Ella's daycare called to say that she had been bitten by another baby. I guess I wasn't expecting to have to deal with this issue at this age (she's only 8 months old), so it caught me pretty off-guard. I stammered out, "OK, is she OK?" They said that the bite didn't break her skin, and but there was some bruising on her arm. It was already close to pick-up time, so I picked her up a little early. It was sad to see the mark on her arm, to know that she had been harmed by another child and I wasn't there to hold her and stop her crying. 

The daycare has a policy (as I think most do) of not telling you which child has bitten your child. I suppose this is to protect the biter and his/her parents from retaliation, and I certainly understand that. If Ella had been the child that had done the biting, I wouldn't want other parents to know that. Plus, they're babies -- not toddlers who can be disciplined and learn consequences. 

It's still hard for me to come to terms with the fact that I have no way of stopping this from happening again, save pulling her out of a daycare that has otherwise been wonderful. And there will surely be biters at every daycare, so that's really not a solution.

Then I realized that there will be situations like this at every age; she could be bullied in high school when I'm not there, she could be dumped by the love of her life, she could get injured playing sports. I can't always be there, but I can always comfort her afterwards. And if there IS a situation where I can prevent her from being harmed -- well, you don't want to make this Mama Bear mad.       

Peyton is Mommy to Ella, born October 2004, and wife to Colin. She lives outside of D.C. in Falls Church, Virginia.

Intro to Mommyitis

By Peyton

Last weekend, Ella and I flew down to my hometown in South Carolina to visit my mother, brother, sister-in-law and grandmother. It was my brother and sister-in-law's birthday (by some weird fluke, my brother and his wife were born on the same day in the same year), and it was also the dedication of a new Episcopal church that my beloved childhood rector had been working on for years. I was looking forward to seeing my family and friends, to attending the dedication, and to having everyone dote over Ella. I was dreading flying with her alone, however, like a trip to the dentist's office. 

I had visions of her squirming on my lap for hours, pulling my hair, screaming to get down. 

Ella's behavior exceeded all of my expectations. She was a doll on the plane, flirting with the people around her, sleeping on my lap, quietly taking her bottle. She smiled at everyone she saw in South Carolina, crawled all over my mother's oriental rugs without spitting up on them, and she even sat through the two-hour church service with NO problems!

In fact, the Bishop of South Carolina went straight over to her during the service and jokingly asked if he could "rent" her. I received so many compliments on her, and I was so proud to be her Mommy -- until I tried to leave her in the room with my mother, brother or sister-in-law. 

If I wasn't in the room with her, she cried. And screamed. And fussed and wailed and sniffled and... you get the point. It was my first introduction to Mommyitis. 

I couldn't go to the bathroom or shower without her throwing a fit. My sister-in-law sat in the bedroom with her while I got dressed and did my hair, so that Ella could see me. We had to position her highchair so she could see into my mother's small kitchen while I was fixing her food. I also gave up on using the portable crib, and she slept in the bed with me. 

Since we've been home, Ella has woken up in the middle of the night, screaming for us. Daddy won't do, either, only Mommy can calm her down. I hope this is a phase, a short phase, but I'm not holding my breath.

Does anyone have any tips for dealing with "Mommyitis"? 

Peyton is Mommy to Ella, born October 2004, and wife to Colin. She lives outside of D.C. in Falls Church, Virginia.

Watch out, world (and the dogs)!

By Peyton

Ella is mobile. After weeks of pushing up onto all fours, rocking forward and back, scooting backwards, and crab-crawling backwards, she has finally figured out how to crawl forwards -- fast.

It seemed like an overnight transition, and suddenly she is into everything. Leave her on the floor of the den, and she'll ignore her blocks and head straight for the nearest outlet (safety plugs went in last week). Put her on the floor of the kitchen, and the dogs' water bowl looks like a lot of fun.

And the dogs? They are hating life right now. Our dogs were our babies before we had Ella, and I am Mommy to them, too. We have two 12-year-old Shelties, Katie and Gandolph. Katie is very good natured and pretty much ignores Ella, even when she has a fist full of Katie's hair. I don't know how that dog does it -- Ella has quite a grip and has pulled out fistfulls of my hair on occasion. I yelp.

Gandolph, on the other hand, while ignoring Ella, also has no patience for her anymore. If he sees her coming, he moves. If he doesn't see her coming and she manages to get a hold of his hair, he growls. Ella and Gandolph now regularly play their own game of cat-and-mouse on the floor of the den.

Ella used to love being held all of the time, and now she just wants down! She wants to explore, to feel the floor or carpet under her hands, to get to what she sees on the other side of the room. She looks over her shoulder at us quite frequently to make sure we're still there, watching her. She cries if we walk out of a room now (and she's awake). When she wakes up in her crib and we're not there, she cries then, too. 

It's a strange mixture of exploring her new-found independence and wanting to reassure herself that we're there for her. We always will be there for her, whether she's exploring her independence by going to grade school, moving off to college or starting out in the "real world" on her own. I just hope she never stops looking over her shoulder for us.