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:
Marching on to April ...
