Cousin Callie

Abby's big cousin Callie visited recently.  The last time the two saw each other Abby was two weeks old.  Callie looked at Abby, held her for a few minutes, and then went on her way playing with toys.  It was like she was thinking , "OK, this is still Teener and Greg's house.  There's just a baby here now.  I'll ignore it."

This visit Callie was more interested in it.  "Can I touch it?" she asked my sister.  "What it do you want to touch?" Marie responded.  Callie pointed to Abigail.

We were concerned that jealousy would rear it's ugly head, but things turned out quite the opposite.  Callie was eager to hold her baby cousin.

And play with her by giving her toys.  Lots of toys.

Callie even comforted Abby when she slept by putting every blanket downstairs on top of her.

Callie was such a great caretaker that Greg helped her build a fort.  In our living room.  Using our furniture.  This is actually a mini-fort.  The one at Christmas was even bigger.

Yup, that's Abby's big cousin Callie.

What's that sound?

A week or two ago Abby discovered that there is more she can do with her voice than cry.

Best Buds

Abby's cousin Callie visited this past weekend.  And to add to the excitement, Devon and his crew joined Callie, my sister and Abby for some Easter preparations.  We had a fun-filled time coloring eggs, decorating cookies and just hanging around on a rainy Saturday.  Callie and Devon are best buds and Callie still tends to boss around Devon like she's done since she was three and Devon was four. 

 
  
Coloring eggs was smooth-sailing.

 

Then we made Easter cookies.  Easter cookies?  Are there such things?  According to my niece there are.  "If Santa likes cookies, maybe the Easter Bunny does too.  I think we should leave some out for the Easter Bunny."

She wanted to decorate the cookies like bunnies and eggs.  Unfortunately, my cookie cutter collection is limited.  The only non-Christmas choices were a star, a flower, and a house.  So that's what we made.

 

 






















Abby might not have been able to join in on the festivities, but she received plenty of attention. 

Aunt Marie and Abby during story time.

Marie shares my instruction manual.

Easter Gift

Abby fell asleep around 10 p.m. last night.  She woke up to nurse at 6 a.m. this Easter Sunday.  Yes, ladies and gentlemen, my baby slept for eight straight hours!  Happy Easter to me!

 

Superman

Last week was Greg's birthday.  I feel obligated to give him a shout out.  

Not only is Greg a great golfer (like I give a hoot about that), he's hard to beat in the kitchen.  When we first started dating all we did was eat together.  We gained a combined 40 pounds.  No joke.  

I got him a cooking present for his birthday.  A chinois and pestle.  Are you thinking "WTF"?  That's what I said when he first mentioned it.  So I googled it.  It's a fancy strainer and a big wooden stick.  

Every year for my birthday Greg makes me a birthday breakfast.  This year I had the chance to make him one since I'm temporarily a SAHM (I'm working on that temporarily part, if anyone wants to donate to the "Christine's SAHM fund.")   I asked what he wanted for breakfast.  He said that anything I made would be fine.  I should have stopped there.  But, no, I demanded an answer.  He said "Eggs Hussarde." 

WTF?  

So I googled it.  It's a version of Eggs Benedict that is served at Brennan's in New Orleans.  It has a zillion different components and includes a sauce that takes over an hour to make.  I refused to shy away from the challenge.  I read the recipe.  This dish required Holland rusk.

WTF?

Back to google.  It's fancy toast.  It's used instead of English muffins.  Where does one find Holland rusk?  Well, you can order it online from Wegman's but my local store doesn't carry it.

I tell this to my dear husband and presume he'll be OK with a pack of good ole Thomas's, or maybe he'll even cancel the Eggs Hussarde and order Eggs Benedict, without the one hour sauce.  Silly me.  He said "Alton Brown has a recipe for English muffins.  You could just make your own."  Like I could just pour a glass or water or just take out the garbage.

Needless to say, I needed more sauce pans than we owned and it looked like I prepared a four course dinner in my kitchen when it was finished, but Greg got Eggs Hussarde with homemade English muffins.  He ate it in three minutes flat.

I must say that he's worth the hassle.  

He is a fantastic dad.  As in FAN. TAS. TIC.

I mean who else cuts and files itty-bitty fingernails?

Who else has Abby's extremely long toes and gives them sweet kisses?

Who else comes to the rescue when Abby has had enough of her mommy?
He's our Superman.  Happy Birthday, Gregory!

Three Months

The first week Abigail was home I thought this day would never come.  And now here she is, three months old, at the end of the so-called "fourth trimester."

What a big girl!

The 411 on three-month old Abby:

• She is ultra-cute.
• She smiles, big, open-mouthed smiles.  They are ultra-cute.
• She talks.  Sometimes very loudly.  It's ultra-cute.
• She loves her soft yet noisy crinkle book.  Greg has caught her turning the pages.  She usually just chews on it when I'm around.
• She's starting to put everything in her mouth. . .bear blanket, stuffed turtle, her fist, the cat bed at her grandparents' house. . .
• She's mesmerized by the T.V.  I'm starting to feel guilty about watching shows in the evening.
• Luckily, she's only mesmerized by the T.V. for 15 minutes max.  That's her threshold for pretty much anything and then we need to change activities.
• She loves when Greg talks to her in a British accent and when I sing the score to Les Miserables.  You know that's true love.  I have a horrible voice.
• She has a lot of gas.  It's ultra-cute that she can toot nearly as loud as her father.
• She falls asleep as soon as the car starts moving, unless she's already been asleep for awhile, in which case, she lets you know that she wants out.  NOW.
• She's an angel when she sleeps.

 

Photo Booth

Abby is holding her head up like a champ.  I slipped the laptop in front of her the other day and took a few pictures with the web cam.

Infrared Baby

Siamese Twins

Andy Warhol Baby

The Masters

I'm not a sports person.

I was never a good athlete.  It probably had something to do with being out of shape and a lack of eye-hand and eye-foot coordination.

So it's no surprise that I never really got into watching sports on television.  There was a stint in eighth grade when I was a big football fan.  Loved the Giants.  They won the Superbowl that year.  I like to think it was because I was a fan.

The football phase was short lived.  I didn't really enjoy watching any sports after that until Greg introduced me to hockey.  And even that took some time.  We had seats to game five of the 2000 Stanley Cup finals, Devils vs. Dallas.  My first hockey game.  There was an intense energy among the crowd.

I brought a statistics book to the game so I could study for a graduate school placement test.  Yep, I was that person.

Now I enjoy watching hockey, though I still don't know all of the rules, and the puck moves so fast in professional hockey that it's hard to follow and I get frustrated.

The most tortuous of all sports television to me is. . .golf.  I've actually watched paint dry on my walls and it was more exciting.

Quick comparison of sports announcers:

Hockey:
"Timonen leads the puck up to Briere, who crosses the blue line.
Briere cuts across the circles and fires a wrist shot.
A SPRAWLING SAVE BY BRODEUR!"

Golf:
"This is for birdie."
Putt misses.
"Oh, dear."

Hockey:
"Alex Ovechkin full throttle.
Fires AND SCORES!"

Golf:
"Yeah, a few dollars on this putt."
Put goes in.
"Well done.  That was nice."

I'm a bit concerned that I'm soon to be outnumbered by golf fanatics.  Abby had a grand time watching The Masters with her daddy this year.

Bargain Shopper

Abby's Nana is the world's best bargain shopper.

When Greg and I started dating, he would point out different places he frequented as a kid.  

"My mom took me shopping here."

"I always got pizza at this place after my mom shopped in this plaza."

"We ate ice cream over there when my mom was out shopping."

This was all new to me.  My family was all about convenience.  We were mall people.  A variety of stores in one self-contained building.  Air-conditioning in the summer.  Refuge from the elements when necessary.  Food court a few steps away.  

We paid full price.

But back to bargain shopping.  Once Nana took little Greg to a flea market and the stroller up and quit on them.  Did that cut short their shopping excursion?  No, no, no.  Nana just bought another stroller at the flea market, tossed the old one and kept on moving.

Greg and I had Nana negotiate the cost of our living room furniture a few years ago.  She has this uncanny nature of remaining completely calm and yet totally persistent.  Key attributes of a successful haggler.

I suspect Abby will grow up in a world similar to that of her daddy.  Being dragged from one store to the next in search of the best deal.  

I'm still enticed by convenience at times, but there's nothing like going on the hunt and finding that perfect treasure.  Baby rattle for a dollar.  Books for 50 cents.  Child carrier with frame suited for hiking with kid on back.  (No need to confess how much I paid for that one.)

So Abigail attended her first consignment sale at two and a half months of age.

Can you tell which were the once popular toys?

 

Stroller weighed down.  Baby sacked out.

Yup, she's living the life of a bargain shopper.

 

Brotherly Love

Most people who know us are well aware that our first loves were of the feline variety: Desmond and Molly.  We refer to them as "the kids."  We are their Mommy and Daddy.

Molly is an ultra-adorable princess who is cautious around visitors and loves getting belly rubs while rolling around on her green throw rug.  

Molly can be aloof at times.  No surprise there - she's a cat.  Having Molly curl up next to us is an honor.  So, Greg and I had no choice but to institute The Rule of Molly: when Molly is cuddled on one's lap or against one's leg, one is not allowed to move and disturb her in any way unless she is in imminent danger.  This includes getting up to answer the phone and use the facilities.  (The Rule of Molly was  grueling for me to follow while pregnant.)  The Rule has since been modified to allow disturbance if Abby is in imminent danger.  

I know what you're thinking.  But come on.  Every family has their quirks.

Despite Molly's incredible cuteness we are fairly certain she moonlights as a ninja.

Since Abby's homecoming Molly has been avoiding the new little lady in the house and vying for extra affection from Mommy and Daddy.

Desmond is a people cat. 

He turns into the devil around other felines (except for his sister Molly), but around humans Desmond is the most laid back cat in existence.  You can hold him upside down and sideways, toss him on the bed, cuddle, kiss and squeeze him and he just goes with the flow. (Marie and Caitlin, don't get any ideas!)

Desmond loves water.  He bats his water dish until the water makes small waves and only then will he drink it.  Each morning he waits for Greg to step on the scale with him and then without him and then report his weight.  Desmond will meow until this task is accomplished.  Once done, he saunters out of the bathroom and goes about his business.

He has many nicknames.  Desmond-brain.  Brain.  Desmond-fish-brain. Poo-poo hiney-head.  Poop.  Little Buddy. 

But one of Desmond's most lovable traits is that he's a Mama's Boy.  Every time I'm sick or sad, he's right there next to me.  When I had sinus surgery years ago, Desmond stayed with me in bed all day.  He didn't leave to eat, drink or use the litter box for at least eight hours.  And up until the arrival of Abigail, he slept in my arms every night.

When we came home from the hospital with Abby, she and I camped out in the bedroom for a few days.  I was still recovering from the C-section.  Desmond didn't come upstairs during the first few hours home.  By the evening he sat on the bed, but in the farthest corner from me and Abby.  Throughout the next day, Desmond slowly inched himself closer, little by little, until he was cuddled next to us.

Now he is the best big brother ever.

 

So that's A REAL CRY

Abby had her two-month well-baby checkup recently.  You know what that means. . .shots.

As of this writing Abigail has had several evenings of digestive issues requiring me or her Daddy to hold her on her side and continuously walk around the house.  

If we stopped, even for a second, she would cry.  But as long as we keep moving, the crying stayed under control.

There also have been two days when Miss Abigail did not get her proper sleep the night or day before and, therefore, she was a hot mess.  Nothing soothed her until I broke out the "5 S's" - swaddle, sush, swing, side and suck - from The Happiest Baby on the Block, which many a parent knows and loves.

Even after all this I was not prepared for A REAL CRY.

Abby handled most of her doctor's appointment just fine.  She was in the 50th percentile for weight, and 75th for length and head circumference (Will she be tall with a big head?).  

Then the nurse gave the first injection in her thigh.  Abby's eyes opened up like saucers.  I thought she discovered the meaning of life.  There was a pause. . .followed by A REAL CRY.  And a red face.  And tears streaming down the red face.  

You know that scene in Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, where the guy in the horned hat rips out the heart of a man?  The heart is still beating and the man is lowered into a fiery pit and the heart bursts into flames.  You know that scene?  Yeah, when Abby cried I was the man with his heart ripped out.

Luckily, the crying lasted less than minute.  As soon as Abby started slurping up the oral vaccine, she seemed to forget about the two injections.

It was a rough 24 hours after the shots, but we made it through with lots of mommy love and the 5 S's.  

Push Ups

I'm getting flak from my "supportive" husband about not posting in a while, so here's a quick one.

UP

and DOWN