March 2009: this ain't our first rodeo ... wait ...

Hello, March! Let's fall right in line with the goings on, shall we?

So we started practicing tummy time, of which Meara is not a big fan. However, she does handle the first few minutes with good spirits, so I thought I'd take some pics to capture her as she explores this new world view:

Jon has always been, as my chronicles have disclosed, fairly opinionated about Meara always sleeping in her own room in her own crib. Of course, I knew if he upheld the same conviction about this that he did about a dog in the bed -- be it Nestle or Mandy or the like -- he would cave, at least on occasion. Well, low and behold, I caught him red handed! But it was so darn cute, because this angle captures some of their look-alike features -- ears, chin, mouth, nose, eyebrows, hairline ... for Pete's sake, is there anything about this child I can claim?


Well, the day she turned 12 weeks old, Jon and I did what any responsible parents of a Texas-born baby would do: we took her to the Houston rodeo. It wasn't exactly our first rodeo as a couple, but it surely was her first and therefore our first as a family. Awwww. Don't roll your eyes; this is a big deal, now, you city slickers.


One of our very favorite events to watch at the rodeo is the mutton bustin'. If you've never seen it, you'd better fix that. It is hilarious and adorable and just a tiny bit horrifying, so overall, it is quite an enjoyable thrill. For those of you who are still confused, it is like bronco or bull riding for babies. Yeah, that's right. This is Texas, after all, so suck it up, small ones! Basically, they fit (hopefully well-trained) tiny tots in protective gear and slap them bareback on irritable sheep; it's grab the wool, and hang on for dear life while the life-sized stuffed animal does its best to throw the rider. You never know what you're going to see. Some kids are really amazing, and others are done before they start. It's about a 50-50 shot of whether they'll panic and cry or smile with pride. Here was one of the first out of the gate; I got a jumbo-tron pic to enhance the view. Go for eight seconds, buddy!


Unfortunately, part way through the main events, I had to go feed Meara. I would have just thrown a blanket over her and let her go to town, but Jon and I both had large men on the other sides of us, and since that meant copious overflow of guts, elbows and Wrangler-clad thighs into our space, I really didn't have room to maneuver discretely about my business. So, I had to retreat to a restroom stall again. And, since my child is the planet's longest nurser, I emerged a little cranky after missing some good rodeo action and having to sit on a hard toilet seat for 40 minutes due to the lack of proper seating anywhere else in the entire place. Mothers are so sacrificial. I'm totally filing this away in the my-baby-owes-me folder of my brain. Otherwise, she did really well. She didn't fuss, and she watched the rodeo in between naps. Good little cowgirl. Fortunately, your brain doesn't have a my-mama-owes-me folder yet, so I won't have to repay you. Hahaha.

After our sadistic bout of entertainment (rodeos are pretty violent through and through, for both the humans and the animals), we stuck around for part of the Lady Antebellum concert. Of course, that sort of ended up fulfilling the masochistic end of the coin. I mean, I like the group and all, but we were tired, and all their songs ran into one another ... but not in a flowing way, more just in a monotonous way, because they started to sound identical. And frankly, my butt really hurt, and I needed to feed Meara again without being stuck in solitary on a toilet. So here is part of the show:


Another first that occurred simultaneously with the rodeo was Meara's first ride in her Baby Bjorn. I mean, so many other animals seemed to be wearing some kind of saddle, so why would I want to be left out? It actually went very well, and Meara really seemed to enjoy it. Luckily, there was air conditioning, so we didn't get too overheated and could get some joy out of our snuggly setup, and I felt like I was getting a little extra exercise with my 13-pound shot put of a child in tow.


Meara escaped the rodeo without being branded, as many animals are in this great state, but a few days later, I found that Jon did decide it would be fun to give her a tattoo. It's a classic anchor on her forearm. I don't really know why.


Meara also had her first non-family babysitter this month. Our friend and Jon's coworker Elizabeth has a great roommate named Dallas. She's a med student, and she said it would be a treat for her to spend one of her Spring Break evenings off babysitting ... ummmmm ... whatever you say! Dallas said she truly enjoyed it, and Jon and I certainly took pleasure in the night out, so win-win, I guess! Some parents have difficulty releasing their itty-bitty charge into a non-family member's care, especially outside their home, but that's one hangup Jon and I do not struggle with. Nooooo problemoooo.

As our tiny person continues to grow, her swaddle seems to shrink! So, the day after she turned three months old, I realized it's time to start weening her from the swaddling. I will miss the babyrito days, but I can't shrink wrap her forever. I put on her no-scratch mittens in case she went into an uncharacteristic face-clawing frenzy and used the wrap-around-the-middle function of her sleep sack to give her the illusion of snugness while setting free her arms. As you can see, I still have her on her wedge positioner and also in the Moses basket in her crib. It just all seemed so cozy. I didn't have the heart to take everything out from under her all at once. Baby steps ... she is a baby. By the way, she did not even seem to need the transition and handled it like a pro.


If I've not already mentioned him, then I suppose it's time I introduce someone who has become a part of our lives as of late: Readers, meet Attack Bird.


Oh, he may not look like much, but he is quite a production. Every morning, he announces himself by first throwing his body against our master-bedroom window repeatedly, because new parents don't deserve sleep. Then, while I'm nursing Meara on the couch, he moves with us and continues his self-destructive behavior by crashing into the windows of our family room. Eventually, he migrates to the door and window of our kitchen. He's really annoying, but he's also a testament to resilience or persistence or the power of instinct ... or the ravages of brain damage.

On the 19th, Jon and I had tickets to go to an Elton John, Billy Joel concert. I was so revved up, I decided to give Meara a rock-star look. She sort of took on a punk attitude, though, and it appeared she was going to box out her mama. Easy, kid.


The concert was fantastic. The masters played separate and duet sets, and thanks to our neighbor Erica for watching the baby girl so we could sing along to some of music's finest live.

March continued to prove exciting with the arrival of Meara's Gumpy. My dad had not yet met his first grandbaby, so it was a delightful meeting. He sure made her smile (and vice versa!). He brought out chins in her I didn't know she had!


Naturally, Dad had to do the Cabbage-Patch face on Meara to initiate her; this was a common Cherry-family childhood event. It's basically squishing a little one's face fat toward the center to create a comical and cartoonish mug. If you've ever seen a Cabbage-Patch doll, they always had features really close to the middle of the face surrounded by a lot of chub, so that's how the name came about.


Dad and I took Meara -- or Meara and I took Dad -- to the Houston Museum of Natural History. Dad has always been a science buff, and who knows, maybe Meara will be, too. As for me, it was nice to get out of the house for a change of scenery with good company.


I'm a fan of the giant sloth. I don't know why, but I tend to gravitate toward it. I think it's because it's so unexpected. Well, I mean, it is giant for a sloth and so accurately named, but sloths still exist today, and they are no longer giant, so it's fascinating to see them on such a huge scale.


Here is the Meara exhibit. Despite the myriad of other sights, she was still Dad's favorite, and he and his camera kept coming back to her again and again. Interactive exhibits are pretty neat, and I must admit, even I found this one particularly alluring with its joyful appearance and fascinating intricacies.


The Houston Museum of Natural History is a decent one, so, especially with my editing background, I was distraught to find what I deemed serious problems in the title of a large photography exhibit. The world may be full of wonders, but the sign is full of errors.


How hard is it to replace a couple of letters and close up an ellipsis (there are some inherent errors with the styling, but I won't get into that)? For the time being, it looks like a capitalization, kerning (one for my publications peeps -- you know what I'm talking about and surely feel my pain), punctuation and grammatical-usage nightmare, and the whole thing makes my head hurt. Fortunately, the photographs were truly amazing and helped calm me. Crisis averted!

We really enjoyed our visit with Dad (or as he has deemed himself, Gumpy), and we also got in a few other visits this month. We said goodbye to our friends the Lerches at their going-away party -- and showed off Meara in the process -- and spent some time with our pals the Haddens as they made their way back into Houston from Virginia. Dad also babysat Meara while Jon and I went to a dinner to celebrate Jon's new position at work. We felt like such socialites!

Before he left town, we took Dad to a nearby Chuy's (a local favorite) for some Tex-Mex on our way to the airport. He got in some sweet last longing looks at his granddaughter to keep in his mind for the trip home.


Thanks for taking another rare family photo, Dad!


This month, perhaps with the awakening of green things and the like, Jon decided it was time to revive the Sea Doo and start getting it ready to sell; the connection here is that the Sea Doo, of course, is not green, but money, you see, is. So, welcome to the beginnings of the Sea Doo resurrection. He was pretty freaked out about getting stranded in the middle of Lake Houston, and I sort of couldn't blame him. I didn't have a way to bail him out should this occur.

But, brave man he is, he struck out into the blue (errr ... brown) ...



... and stalled for what probably seemed like forever but was actually only a minute ...


... and still managed to make it back safely. Success!


When Meara turned 15 weeks old at the end of the month, we took her on her first hiking trip. We went to Lake Houston Park, and Jon carried her around in her Bjorn along the Hoot Owl Trail and Peach Creek Loop. There's a small window of time in Houston in which it's not too hot or too rainy to enjoy the great outdoors, so we seized this chance.


I liked the look of this bridge ... it's like we're in an industrial spider's web!


Another no-makeup shot; gee, I feel so organic.


This is our "did you hear that?" stupid-kids-deep-in-the-woods-at-dusk shot. We like to make a little fun.


This is a large and beautiful moth on the bridge on our way back. He was one of the only naturally occuring creatures as white as yours truly, so I had to capture him on film. I named him Space Ghost.


Here is one of our favorite pictures of Meara ever. Jon made it his Facebook profile pic. It really shows what a happy kiddo she is. The two of them are so precious. I was never an afficianado of cheek pinching until I had this child. Cheeeeeeeeeks! Can you stand it?


We really enjoyed our hike! It was good for me and Jon, and Meara loved being carried around right up against her daddy; it was something that doesn't happen too often, and she relished it. She never fussed, and she loved looking at the sights and taking in the sounds and smells and fresh air. In fact, Meara was so inspired that on the way home in the car, she started talking to herself for the first time! We heard little babbles tumbling out of the back seat, and she stayed entertained by the sound of her own voice all the way home. She even continued her soliloquy when we put her to bed. We all slept well that night.

By the way, yes, she is still wearing a bib every time you see her, because although she is true to the meaning of her name in that she is the most joyful baby, she still remains queen of the pukesplosions. Now, I purposely did not name her anything that meant "pukes all the time," but apparently, it's what is in the name, not what's not in it, and at least we got the joyful part. So there you go.

Fun facts for March:

She weighs about 13 pounds and is about 24 inches long.

She eats every three to four hours starting when she wakes up naturally in the morning (usually between 7:30 and 8:30 a.m.); we're down to about four or five feedings total

She sleeps about eight to nine hours through the night!

She makes a lot of piggy-grunting noises when she's hungry, along with sucking and smacking sounds. She also makes the "horsey" noise (a sort of snorting sigh), gutteral attempts at laughing (so funny!) and staccato whines when tired.

She breaks into giant smiles quite often, and she is also finding her hands.

She especially likes riding in her Baby Bjorn.

She especially does not like sitting in her carseat when it's not moving and tummy time beyond a few minutes.

Her favorite games and toys consist of anything with eye contact, having us play with her limbs (these built-in entertainment objects are awesome!) and looking in the mirror (have you seen her? I'd like looking at myself, too).

By the end of this month, she's learning to hold up her head for extended periods and stand and sit up under her own power with a little balancing support.

Marching on to April ...

February 2009: love and the art of fishing

Sunday, the first of this month, we returned from our camping and fishing trip at Choke Canyon and settled ourselves back into home life. You'd think we'd all be desperate for space from one another after a long weekend in an RV, but everyone just sort of went back to piling next to each other, as demonstrated in the following pic. Ahhhh, love. Meara, obviously, was exhausted though and needed a lap nap, while Nestle settled for a side cuddle:

We got back just in time for Meara to go to Texas Children's Hospital for her OxiCardioRespiroGram with a pH probe. Basically, I had to spend hours in a little room with her going through her feeding and sleep cycles while she was attached to a monitoring machine via a tube stuck through her nose down her esophagus. It measured her breathing and heart rate and acid levels. She did well and had optimistic results, though it was very sad to see her with tubes -- emotions too reminiscent of her earliest days after birth.

But come Friday, Jon was ready to go back to Choke Canyon to go bird hunting with his buddies Jackson and Binky:

After a successful bird hunt filled with gory tales, Jackson returned to Houston while Jon and Bink stayed in Choke Canyon for some more fishing. Lots of fishing; these boys never tire of it.

Of course, this weekend was my first overnight alone adventure with the baby, so I could only look at the pictures they brought back to get the idea of the experience. So, readers, here I am in the same boat as you (goody -- a fishing pun!).

The lake seemed pretty ... but what lake doesn't look enchanting at sunset?


I used to think Jon gets pumped about his fish, but then I watched some BassMaster Classics, and I realized Jon -- even with his tongue wagging out of his head and that "I'm-kind-of-a-big-deal" swagger -- is actually pretty mild when compared to other fishheads when tasting victory:


And if Jon is mild, then Binky is barely more than apathetic, at least in this pic:


I believe I've explained Binky before, but if you need a refresher, he and Jon go back to the chemE-class days at K-State, and he now works for Conoco-Phillips up north in Borger, Texas. Also, and perhaps of more interest, his name isn't actually Binky, as you may have guessed. His name is John. His last name is Boehnke, the English translation of which sounds like "binky." My theory is that my Jon is the alpha Jon among his bachelor-days John friends. Both his friends John English and John Boehnke have forfeitted their given names for nicknames; John English is Big Red (reddish hair), and John Boehnke is Binky (as previously explained). Jon is Jon. However, a lot of people do call him Biggie (a la the last name), and Big Red does call him "Mo" quite often (this goes back to a story from when they both worked at a golf course, and I'm choosing not to repeat the controversial origin). But because I love and flatter him, I'll continue to believe he's Alpha Jon.

Back to the lake ... there was a spooky tree graveyard in its depths, which made a natural art exhibit the boys appreciated. I only included one pic of this, but the boys documented it well:


While Jon was away, I decided I'd better get back to my roots and take advantage of the mommy time by reading Meara her first book. I grew up with my mom reading to me all the time, and as a result, I have always enjoyed reading (which led to writing and teaching). However, as of late, I'd been too emotional to read ... seriously, my hormones were still so out of whack that even getting through the Gartan Mother's Lullaby (a Celtic lullaby from my childhood), which always seems to soothe the baby, was difficult without choking up. So, with Jon and his potential fun-poking ways absent, I decided to give a book a go. I chose "God Gave Us You," which was a gift from my mother to Meara. OMG. Although it's a perfect first message for your little one, it was a rough choice for my first run at reading to my daughter. I kept falling apart at each page, and the sentiment was almost too much for me! Meara, on the other hand, did not cry, and she's an actual baby.

Speaking of words and sentiment, when I was pregnant, I got a kick out of witty onesies. Since I didn't know the baby's sex, I was limited in the clothing department, but sex has no bearing on humor; everybody likes to be entertained. So, I bought a few amusing outfits for the kiddo. I had a sweet one that read "new in town," a strong one that said "sleep is for the weak," and a sassy one that said "I still live with my parents." Here she is looking superfine in the latter (I think she gets it ... I spy a knowing little chuckle):


Jon returned safely and soundly (and satisfied from his fishing adventures), but poor Meara had to go back to Texas Children's Hospital for a head ultrasound. As I believe I mentioned earlier, she had a brain bleed discovered in her testing while in the NICU, and while that sounds scarier than it is most of the time, her pediatrician thought it wise to monitor the situation. I'd wondered why I'd never heard of a head ultrasound before, and it turns out that's because people older than a few months can't get them! The baby's cranial soft spot is the key -- the ultrasound technology can travel through this trap door in the infant's head as long as it hasn't closed up too much. Fascinating. The nurse wanted to try giving her a paci to distract her, but this situation reaffirmed that Meara is not a paci baby, which is fine by me. She managed to stay chill the whole time but took a few hits on her thumb instead to keep her cool. Anyway, the ultrasound looked good! God's been good to my little girl!

Meara's Valentine's-week present to us was a huge milestone: sleeping through the night. She'd been sleeping a decent block, but she finally hit that eight-hour mark when she was just past eight weeks old. That was about the best gift any new parent of a healthy baby could wish for, right? Absolutely. The best part was, since we had the apnea monitor, I didn't have that first-full-night's-sleep experience of waking in horror with the thought, "it's been too long so something's wrong!" Nope. I just enjoyed it. Jon's parents came back into town that week, as well, and they gave us a blessing, too ... a V-Day date night. Yep; spring is around the corner, and things are coming back to life, y'all.

Here is Meara on her first Valentine's Day ... my apologies that she isn't decked out in pink and red hearts, but at this point she didn't have many people to impress. In this photo, she's serenading us with a round of "That's Amore":


During Jon's parents' visit, we made a point to get together with Louis's brother Kenneth and his wife Janice, which is always a pleasure. They had come to visit us in the hospital, but since Meara was in the Level II NICU, they weren't able to see her. So, this was an opportunity for them to meet the newest baby Biggerstaff.


While everybody was busy cuddling the baby, Jon and I got to cuddle each other:


Once again, Jon's parents left us, but this time it was their last Houston visit for a while. However, we would see them again at a lake (where else?) later that week for another camping trip. This next pic is a favorite; Meara's grandpa has our precious little baby ball under his wing:


I love to take pictures, so having a baby provides lots of photo ops. Before she gets too mobile, too big or too willful, I decided to take some artsy pics. Here are just a few to capture the details of her tiny perfection:










Soooo precious. Adding to the joy is that big smiles have become an event that is pretty regular (though never taken for granted!). Take a look at this infectious piece of evidence (I bet you smile when you see it):


Babies are very versatile subjects, so sometimes the photo ops are more silly than sentimental, but they're all priceless. Something we learned from our breastfeeding class is that after a feeding, breastfed babies tend to become what is often called "milk drunk." They're so warm and full and content from the closeness, food and the happy/bonding hormones that come from both, that they tend to end up like this (Meara should be the milkaholic poster child):


For her two-month appointment, Meara had her first out-of-hospital vaccinations. She handled them brilliantly. Due to my history of vaccination sensitivities (contracting live-vaccine chicken pox and measles viruses), we decided to spread out her vaccinations when they contain critters. It doesn't cost any more, and since I am home with the baby during the day anyway, it doesn't cause a scheduling conflict to simply bring in the baby for nurse's visits for the remaining vaccinations in between pediatrician appointments. Here she is (with her monitor on) showing off her Band-Aids after her shots:


So, the next day, we headed off to Sam Rayburn Reservoir for another weekend of camping and ... you guessed it ... fishing!

If you aren't an avid boating-rules follower, you may not be aware that children, at least in Texas, are required to wear a lifejacket at all times when aboard a boat while it's on water. Jon's parents got her an infant lifejacket, and although she's just shy of seaworthy as of yet, we couldn't help but try on the jacket for size ... and giggles. See, it's meant to fit around an infant's neck ... but, infants don't really have necks. Ours doesn't yet, anyway, so it's a pretty comical sight, but it's amazing how well she tolerated it. Maybe she'll be ready to put it to use sooner than later:


Jon was so proud that she put up with wearing the jacket. I think he figured it was training. Despite all the adorable fun frills of dressing a little girl, I think it's also the accessory he's been most excited about seeing on his daughter -- by far:


Meara's really learned to love cuddling with her grandpa:


Meara's really good about being out in public. She's a pretty laid-back, low-maintenance kiddo. Of course, that makes it too easy sometimes to push her schedule beyond its limits, so I can't say I haven't had to sit in a restaurant restroom stall for an emergency feeding session here or there. I sense there will be a time I don't go through so much trouble to make people I don't know as comfortable as possible; you'd think a blanket over the situation would suffice, but in a public place, you'd be surprised at some of the awkwardness regardless. Anyway, when I returned from my stint of nursing in isolation, baby finally fed and happy, we posed for a lovely family pic:


Meara is not levatating here. Jon likes to play airplane with the baby. I don't know if the baby likes to play airplane with Jon:


For as much time as I spend with her, I hardly have any pics of me with Meara. I think it's mostly because I'm generally behind the camera taking the photos. Jon's parents obliged in capturing the two of us girls together, though:


Jon's mom is always a really good sport about hanging out with me if I don't go out with the guys when they fish. So, this time, I thought it would be nice for her to enjoy some fishing herself with her hubby and her son, which she hardly gets to do anymore. I stayed back with Meara and the dogs in the RV while the Biggerstaffs got in some good times and good catches.

Nice job, Mom:


Impressive, Dad:


Way to do it, Jon; that thing's a pig:


Here's Jon with a double-fisting fish shot:


And here are daughter and father, both freshly washed, zoning out on the couch in front of the television (I did not let Meara be exposed to much television at all in her early months, so this was a special treat for her):


We arrived to spend the month's final week back at home and get readjusted to our house ... and a less-fishy environment. Nestle always likes being around Mandy and the parents, but he found himself quite comfy in his own sun spot on Meara's worm gym:


And so I'll leave you with the image of Meara doing her Bob Dole impression ... if she could add vocals, she might say, in a gruff male voice, "Despite the wires and a full diaper, Bob Dole is an attractive baby" (third person is a must, if you recall).

Oh, and one more thing ... at the very end of the month, after a good tickling, Meara let out a short little laugh! Music!

And here are February's fun facts on what Meara was up to by the end of this month:

• She's in the 50th percentile for height at 22.5 inches, in the 80th percentile for weight at 12 lbs. (that's a big jump from 25th last month!) and the 50th percentile for head circumference at 38.5 cm.
  
• She eats every three to three and one half hours once she wakes up in the morning. We dropped the 3 a.m. feeding now that she's sleeping upwards of eight hours a night, though sometimes she'll still do a 6 a.m. feeding but then go back to bed until about 9:30 a.m. to really start the day.
  
• She does a lot of gutteral coos that sound like "gull."
  
• She loves being tickled on her tummy during diaper changes, making eye contact and looking at books (Peek-A-Who? seems to be a favorite).
  
• She does not love being left on her back too long without entertainment.
  
• She enjoys her worm gym (which she has to fight Nestle for) and listening to music.
  
• She's learning to track with her eyes and smile big in response to us.

March, here we come!