Stroller Class

No, it's not a class on how to use a stroller.  It's exercise for me and a nice ride for Abby.

I searched for a stroller class on-line while I was pregnant.  My friend and amazing mom TLB was my inspiration.  In grad school she taught Jazzercise classes and I soon became an enthusiastic participant.  (Yes, Jazzercise.  No, no one wears leg warmers and leotards to Jazzercise anymore.)  Then when TLB became a mom she started taking stroller classes and now she's an instructor.  Unfortunately, she's an instructor several thousand miles away from me so I needed to find something a bit closer.  

Though every class is different, a typical session includes a warm-up during which us moms introduce ourselves and our kids.  We walk around the park a bit and stop to do strength exercises or additional cardio.  It's ingenious.  The instructor's uncanny timing keeps the kids content in their strollers.  Just when they are about to fuss, we walk.  



The strength exercises often use resistance bands and while we're doing curls, rows, squats or leg lifts, we sing nursery rhymes.   This was a shock to me during my first class.  I soon learned I was not the nursery rhyme aficionado that I thought.  A sample of my performance the first day. . .

"Hickory dickory dock. The. . .hmm. . .ran up the clock.  Hmm. . .hmm. . .hmm.  Hmm. . .hmm. . hmm.  Hickory dickory dock."

"Ten little monkeys jumping on the bed.  La la la. . .and bumped his head.  Mama. . .blah blah blah blah blah. . ."

And did you know that there is a second verse to Row Row Row Your Boat?  Something about a lion and a roar and rowing to the shore.  Who knew?!

Of course, I would blurt out as much as I knew during the beginning of each exercise, but after a few reps I could barely suck in enough air to keep up with the move, let alone sing a kids song in a happy mommy voice.

During the week of Easter our instructor said there would be an egg hunt, games and prizes.  I thought that it was so nice of her to have such activities for the older kids after class.  Turns out those activities were for us, the moms.  In one "game" we had to walk, skip and gallop to a goal post with a plastic egg on a spoon.  if we dropped the egg, we had to do 10 jumping jacks.  

Guess which mommy continuously dropped her egg and was the last to finish the "game"?  
Yup, I felt like I was in grade school gym class all over again.  I was just waiting to be picked second from last.

All embarrassment aside, stroller class is a perfect fit.  Even if it includes baby sneezes.

 

Four Months

One.  Two.  Three.  Four.  Four months.  She's practically in college.

What was life like five months ago?  It's hard to remember.  I vaguely recall long stretches of sleep, reading a book or surfing the net for more than 15 minutes at a time, and being able to get in my car and drive at a moment's notice.

But I didn't get to see this everyday:

Abby at four months. . .

• weighs in at 13 pounds, 2 ounces
• is longer than the average baby
• has a noggin that is in the 90 percentile for circumference
• lights up like a star when she smiles
• smiles most of the day (except after she gets shots)
• sits proudly in her Bumbo chair

• tries to eat her Bumbo chair
• blows lots of spit bubbles
• produces copious amounts of drool
• chews on everything especially my hand and the bottom of onesies during diaper changes
• loves being worn in the baby sling
• watches everything with curious intense eyes
• screams to hear her voice
• coos softly
• has begun babbling 
• does a darn good impression of Superman with the help of Daddy
• absolutely loves being bare bottom - we will worry if this continues once she begins kindergarten
• has favorite toys: crinkle books, Sophie the giraffe, light-up and singing caterpillar (gift from Grandma Edly, despite my instructions to avoid anything battery-operated)
• hangs out with Daddy on the putting green
• bought Daddy new golf grips then decided to chew on them
• still rolls from tummy to back
  
• is working relentlessly to roll from back to tummy
• scooches 360 degrees 
• has stolen our hearts.

Away from Home

Operation Night Away From Home was a success!

Abby had quite the social calendar this past weekend.  On Saturday she made an appearance at the local Relay for Life fundraiser for the American Cancer Society.  Then we drove three and a half hours to Marlene & Chris's engagement BBQ to toast the happy couple.  We drove another half hour to Aunt Marie's house where we stayed over for, not one, but two nights.  

Two whole nights away from home!  I was prepared for the worst.  Crying, grunting, restlessness, two sleepless nights and exhausting days.  But, quite the contrary, Abby was such a happy girl.  She had no trouble sleeping and couldn't keep her eyes off cousin Callie during the day.  

You'd think with such adventures I'd have taken at least ONE good picture.  Nope.  The camera and extra lenses never made it out of the bag.  Sigh.

Well, here's a photo of Abby and Callie from a prior visit.

 

Hedwig

Last weekend Abby, cousin Callie and I attended Devon's birthday party.  The celebration involved a Harry Potter theme.  Awesome, right?!

I decided little Abby would be dressed as Hedwig, Harry's Snowy Owl.  Though I had bought some feathers, white tights and a white hat, I didn't start to assemble her costume until 10 p.m. the night before the party.

I hot glued white feathers on a white onesie until I ran out of glue sticks (and burned my finger with hot glue, which I tried to remove with another finger and then burned that one too).  I had forgotten that Greg had used the glue sticks for some creation - probably hockey related.  So, I switched to fabric glue, which, no matter what the advertisement, is not nearly as adherent.  Then I through in a little sewing for good measure.  Unfortunately, my sewing skills are a tad better than nonexistent.

Of course, the day of the outdoor party was beautiful and WINDY.  And I didn't think through the whole bit about the feathers having slightly sharp ends.  Abby looked adorable, but was not a happy camper so the costume lasted 10 minutes and then we changed outfits.  At the close of the party I was walking around the park gazebo picking up white feathers.

Note to self: If you continue to dress your daughter in silly costumes you need to:
1. Replenish glue stick supply
2. Ask Nana for sewing lessons.
3. Think comfort.
4. Check the weather forecast.
5. Be sure to take a decent photograph the day of so you don't have to torture your daughter a second time by forcing her to sit in the rocking chair wearing her uncomfortable costume so you can document your insanity.

Matchmaker

Dearest Abigail,

There's something you should know.  You would not exist if it weren't for this woman:

That's right!  You met her a couple of weeks ago.  She's mommy's good friend Colleen and we spent time at her grandma's house looking at horses. . .

and walking outside. . .

and playing with flowers.

Well, Colleen just might be responsible for Mommy and Daddy getting together.  Here's the story.

A long, long time ago when Mommy and Daddy were freshmen in high school, Colleen came to Mommy and said "Greg likes you."  (Who's Greg?  He's your daddy.)  This was news to me.  Daddy was in my science class and I thought he was cute but I never imagined he'd like me.  Colleen wanted to know if I'd be willing to "go out with him."  That's what we called dating then.  I said "yes."

Little did I know that Colleen had a similar conversation with Daddy around the same time.  She told him, "Christine likes you.  Do you want to go out with her?"

So, without either of us making the first move, your Daddy and I were soon "going out." 

This lasted for about three months and then I broke up with your daddy because I met a boy who wore Birkenstocks and listened to The Doors while I was on a whale watching trip.  (Your daddy is not the Birkenstock kind.)

But the two of use stayed friends throughout high school.  We had a lot of classes together.  Eventually, we ended up going to the same university and we saw each other a couple of times while we were there.

The summer before our senior year of college your daddy sent me an email stating that he was starting an internet company.  He was dropping out of school and moving out of state.  I wished him luck, but secretly thought it was a major mistake to drop out of school (You know Mommy is crazy about education.).

Two years later your daddy emailed me again.  This time he wrote that he sold his company and was moving back home.  I was getting ready to move out of state for graduate school in a few months so I suggested that we get together before I left.

Your daddy picked me up in his green Ford Explorer (which I thought was so cool - I was ignorant to global warming and the imminent gas crisis) and we went to a restaurant/pool hall/arcade.  We talked non-stop during dinner and I remember thinking, "I want to kiss him.  Weird."  Your daddy impressed me with his crazy intelligence, understated confidence and kind eyes.

We got together again shortly after that and we've been inseparable (literally for a while, now just figuratively) since.  Your daddy visited me while I was in graduate school.  He made fabulous dinners for me and we had tons of adventures.  Then I moved back home, we got married and you were born.

And it's all because Colleen told two little white lies twenty years ago.

Love,
Your Mama

Sophie the Giraffe

This is Sophie.

Sophie is the latest rage in baby toys.  I didn't even know there were toy trends for infants until I saw four different babies with Sophie within two weeks.  I asked one mom about Sophie and she said that "Sophie is the latest rage in baby toys."

Sophie the Giraffe is 100% natural rubber.  She is a toy and a teether.  She squeaks when squeezed.  Sophie is fun to hold and she has her own website.  

Sophie costs $20.

No joke.  Twenty dollars for a rubberized giraffe.  I don't want to pay $20 for a tiny toy unless it can sing and dance and clean my kitchen floor.  Does that make me a bad mom?

But I didn't want Abby to be shunned by an elite circle of babies, so I tried substitutes.

The first wasn't a giraffe.  It was a reindeer.

 

The second faux-Sophie was too fluffy.

My final Sophie-sub was only two-dimensional and easily crinkled.

So it seemed that sweet Abby was not going to be able to keep up with the Baby Joneses.

But then. . .at the bottom of a bucket of infant toys at a consignment sale. . .there was a Sophie Giraffe!  Eight dollars.  Mommy and baby rejoiced.

 

Sophie is good for cuddling. . .

and chewing. . .

and more cuddling. . .

and serious chewing.