Here are a few preliminary edits-- I couldn't resist. Who doesn't enjoy logging in to see what The Dahlbys are up to, only to see pictures of someone else's kid instead?
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Stellar Session
A session on Saturday has proven to be one of my favorites . . . sometimes, I get home and just get giddy because I love the photos so much. I only hope mom and dad (our friends, the Perrys) enjoy the photos as much as I do.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Dear Mom and Dad
Dear Mom and Dad,
It's me, Meg. Your daughter. For now, your only daughter . . . soon-to-be-known-as your 'oldest' daughter.
I just wanted to thank you for such a fun Saturday. Weekends at our house are always fun, but this Saturday in particular was really, super cool for me.
Dad -- thanks for taking me to the park this morning while Mom was off taking pictures of some other kid (for a change!). I wasn't expecting to go on a morning park adventure with you, but it sure was an awesome treat. Remember when we strolled up and there was a whole Autism fundraiser/party going on? It was like -- "Surprise Meg and Dad -- and welcome to the park!" I wasn't sure what to make of all the fun activity at my local neighborhood hang-out -- but any kind of activity is usually good for me. And remember when you bought me some chocolate chip banana bread from the 'bake sale' they had going on? That was really fantastic.
Mom -- thanks for hooking us up with that killer invite to Miller's first birth
day party this afternoon. I know that I played hard with Dad in the morning (so hard, in fact, you bathed me before going to the birthday party!), but I had no idea how hard I'd play at the birthday party! You guys wound me up by telling me about the party on Friday night . . . I could barely sleep, I was so excited. That Miller, he's one rockin' one year old. It was so much fun to share in his big day. I'm so glad that the rain cleared just in time for cake! Dad -- once again -- was pretty cool about the whole thing . . . he knew I wanted cake but also had been waiting to play on the stellar playground equipment at the party, so he followed me around and let me eat my cake on the playscape. (Don't be mad at him, Mom -- he was only trying to be a fun Dad.)
Anyway, guys, it was a great Saturday. You didn't make me go shopping. You didn't make me wander around, getting in and out of the car, looking for things we'll need in the basement. I'm really grateful. That gets old, you know, for a nearly-two-year-old kid like me. Sometimes I need days like this where I can just run and go ALL OUT.
What's on tap for tomorrow?
Love,
Meg
It's me, Meg. Your daughter. For now, your only daughter . . . soon-to-be-known-as your 'oldest' daughter.
I just wanted to thank you for such a fun Saturday. Weekends at our house are always fun, but this Saturday in particular was really, super cool for me.
Dad -- thanks for taking me to the park this morning while Mom was off taking pictures of some other kid (for a change!). I wasn't expecting to go on a morning park adventure with you, but it sure was an awesome treat. Remember when we strolled up and there was a whole Autism fundraiser/party going on? It was like -- "Surprise Meg and Dad -- and welcome to the park!" I wasn't sure what to make of all the fun activity at my local neighborhood hang-out -- but any kind of activity is usually good for me. And remember when you bought me some chocolate chip banana bread from the 'bake sale' they had going on? That was really fantastic.
Mom -- thanks for hooking us up with that killer invite to Miller's first birth
day party this afternoon. I know that I played hard with Dad in the morning (so hard, in fact, you bathed me before going to the birthday party!), but I had no idea how hard I'd play at the birthday party! You guys wound me up by telling me about the party on Friday night . . . I could barely sleep, I was so excited. That Miller, he's one rockin' one year old. It was so much fun to share in his big day. I'm so glad that the rain cleared just in time for cake! Dad -- once again -- was pretty cool about the whole thing . . . he knew I wanted cake but also had been waiting to play on the stellar playground equipment at the party, so he followed me around and let me eat my cake on the playscape. (Don't be mad at him, Mom -- he was only trying to be a fun Dad.)Anyway, guys, it was a great Saturday. You didn't make me go shopping. You didn't make me wander around, getting in and out of the car, looking for things we'll need in the basement. I'm really grateful. That gets old, you know, for a nearly-two-year-old kid like me. Sometimes I need days like this where I can just run and go ALL OUT.
What's on tap for tomorrow?
Love,
Meg
Friday, March 28, 2008
Bugs
Another stomach bug got Meg and I on Wednesday. We are MUCH better today, but yesterday I was literally crying big tears because I felts so bad.
What is the deal with all the stomach viruses invading our house?? Is this what I have to look forward to with kids around for the next 20 or so years?? I had one last February and November, then this March version yesterday. Meg had one in September, November, and then a tiny bout on Wednesday.
Maybe THIS is why Jim travels so much . . . he has escaped the wrath of ALL of them!
Anyway, that's where we've been. I'm behind on HD Portraits -- nearly 3 sessions behind, which is pretty bad. Thank God for the NCAA tournment . . . Jim won't mind if I spend some time catching up tonight and tomorrow while he watches those sweaty college kids pass that orange ball back and forth across the court.
More later . . . we we've recoped and I'm all caught up.
What is the deal with all the stomach viruses invading our house?? Is this what I have to look forward to with kids around for the next 20 or so years?? I had one last February and November, then this March version yesterday. Meg had one in September, November, and then a tiny bout on Wednesday.
Maybe THIS is why Jim travels so much . . . he has escaped the wrath of ALL of them!
Anyway, that's where we've been. I'm behind on HD Portraits -- nearly 3 sessions behind, which is pretty bad. Thank God for the NCAA tournment . . . Jim won't mind if I spend some time catching up tonight and tomorrow while he watches those sweaty college kids pass that orange ball back and forth across the court.
More later . . . we we've recoped and I'm all caught up.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Pregnancy Brain
So, how much can I really blame on this pregnancy? Is there a point when I have to start taking credit for some of the stupid things I've done lately?
Case in point: our garage door.
I left it open last night. Oh -- yeah -- and we weren't home. We were in Newnan, enjoying an evening with my family. Meanwhile, our garage door AND the door inside (to our house) were open, totally unlocked (naturally -- I lock the door inside the garage when I'm outside and Meg is inside, but when I NEED it locked, it's NOT).
And, to put an even BIGGER target on our house for neighborhood burglary, I left our trash can out by the street. I totally was not thinking . . . I put it out at the street for the normal Tuesday trash pick up, left for Newnan, and didn't even think about the fact that it was going to sit there all night until I returned to bring it in today.
I am so dumb sometimes.
Thank GOD for Denise and Paul across the street . . . yes, for the faithful readers, this is the same Denise and Paul that saved me the morning I locked myself out of the house back in January. Denise went out to walk her dog around 11:30pm last night and saw that the garage door was open and the trash can was at the street. She went back in her house and called me -- quickly realized I wasn't home -- put two and two together, and figured that I was probably down visiting my folks for the night. She was wonderful enough to bring in my can AND pull my garage door down manually.
She is fantastic -- what would I do without good neighbors? How lucky are we to have moved to this super friendly community, where people actually notice when something is fishy with a neighbor's home and are kind enough to do something about it?
Ugh -- I'm so grateful for her kindness, but so mad at myself for being so careless. I don't normally DO things like that! I'm very organized, together . . . I'm not the one that does the dumb stuff. I'm not.
Of course, when I told Denise that, I also told her she has NO reason to actually believe me. She and Paul have been single-handedly responsible for saving me from two of the stupidest things I've done in a long, long time.
Again -- can I blame this on the pregnancy? Denise totally did -- she just laughed, accepted my sincere gratitude, and told me that it was because I'm pregnant and focused on too many things right now.
I'll go with that.
Oh -- and, in stupid news outside the neighborhood, I did forget all of Meg's school supplies last week when I dropped her off at Friday preschool. She went to preschool with no sippy cup, no extra diapers, no extra outfit, NOTHING. The entire bag sat (smiling slyly at me, probably) in our kitchen. Meg's teacher just laughed at that dumb mistake and told me it was no big deal -- they'd make due without her stuuf -- and that it was pregnancy forgetfulness at it's peak.
Sheesh. How embarrassing.
Do I have 13 more weeks of this to look forward to??
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Dining with the Dahlbys
Just a note to show off our Meg . . . she's great at eating with her fork and spoon, and even better at emulating her dear old mama.
Off to Newnan for the night . . . more tomorrow!
(Oh -- and yes, we always eat Spaghetti in our diapers around here!!)
Monday, March 24, 2008
Holidays and Kids -- Who Knew?
In the wake of the Bunny, colored eggs, and all that Easter brings to our home, I’ve been thinking about the way that holidays have changed since the birth of our daughter. Holidays – Christmas, Easter, Birthdays, Halloween – they 
aren’t new around here. Like normal people, we’ve been celebrating them for our entire lives. But, since Meg, many of our celebrations have become new again.
It’s like . . . in your late teens and 20s, some of the holidays lose their flare. You know about Santa, the Easter Bunny just stopped visiting me, personally, and days like Halloween and St Patty’s are just excuses to get together with your friends and party (AKA drink heavily).
Then you get married, and the holidays still aren’t what they once were in your life. You start having to decide with which family you are going to celebrate, who’s going to get up and answer the door to give out candy, etc. Your past the drinking, but not really celebrating to the fullest.
Then you have a baby. And – I’ll admit – the first year you still aren’t QUITE back to the holiday splendor you used to endure. You WANT to be . . . man, I wanted to take 9-month-old-Meg to an Easter egg hunt last year! . . . but your family just isn’t ready for all that those special calendar days have to offer. You dress your baby in appropriate colors, accept the compliments on how cute she is in public, and wait for the real celebrations to kick in.
Since Meg hit the one year mark last summer, the glorious days of HOLIDAYS are here again.
Her birthday celebration was a start . . . the grand shindig that stressed me out and drove me crazy for the entire 6 weeks I took to plan it. That was a fun day. She was generally giddy and had a great time opening gifts and eating cake. I was generally giddy and shared in her fun.
Then there was Halloween. You may remember from the blog posts that Halloween lasted for about a week around here . . . school parties, playdates, birthday parties, and the actual act of trick-or-treating itself. It was amazing, and it left me wanting more and more for our Halloweens to come.
The other end-of-the-year holidays were no slouch, either. Meg watched the Macy’s Parade with genuine interest last year. She attended special Christmas themed music classes, and we had a great time at yet another preschool party. We saw Santa, baked cookies, wrapped and unwrapped countless gifts . . . tis the season when I was so jolly. I loved it. I loved sharing that excitement with my little one. And I liked being on the ‘grown up’ side of it for the first time in my life. We stayed up late on Christmas Eve, putting together toys and winding up for the fun morning that followed.
Valentine’s Day even gets reinvented when you have a kid! Now – that holiday – for me, it’s lost is luster since Jim and I spent our first one together in February of 2002. Since then, we’ve been devoted to each other 365 days a year (or 366, as in this year), so I don’t really care to celebrate Valentine’s. Call me a grump, but I don’t need anything to remind me that Jim is in love with me (okay, well, I’ll take a flower or two, if necessary). But with Meg, there were two parties in one day that we had to attend! And there were Valentine’s to make . . . which I hadn’t done in years.
Now Easter has come and gone, and we enjoyed it to the fullest. Egg hunting was phenomenal, as was the egg dying and Easter Basket filling. It was an event to look forward to, and a day to remember.
Holidays and kids – who knew? Chalk it up to yet another fantastic thing that nobody really tells you is going to happen when you become a parent.
Next around here . . . Mother’s Day! Now that’s one I really didn’t celebrate until I had a kid :)
aren’t new around here. Like normal people, we’ve been celebrating them for our entire lives. But, since Meg, many of our celebrations have become new again.It’s like . . . in your late teens and 20s, some of the holidays lose their flare. You know about Santa, the Easter Bunny just stopped visiting me, personally, and days like Halloween and St Patty’s are just excuses to get together with your friends and party (AKA drink heavily).
Then you get married, and the holidays still aren’t what they once were in your life. You start having to decide with which family you are going to celebrate, who’s going to get up and answer the door to give out candy, etc. Your past the drinking, but not really celebrating to the fullest.
Then you have a baby. And – I’ll admit – the first year you still aren’t QUITE back to the holiday splendor you used to endure. You WANT to be . . . man, I wanted to take 9-month-old-Meg to an Easter egg hunt last year! . . . but your family just isn’t ready for all that those special calendar days have to offer. You dress your baby in appropriate colors, accept the compliments on how cute she is in public, and wait for the real celebrations to kick in.
Since Meg hit the one year mark last summer, the glorious days of HOLIDAYS are here again.
Her birthday celebration was a start . . . the grand shindig that stressed me out and drove me crazy for the entire 6 weeks I took to plan it. That was a fun day. She was generally giddy and had a great time opening gifts and eating cake. I was generally giddy and shared in her fun.
Then there was Halloween. You may remember from the blog posts that Halloween lasted for about a week around here . . . school parties, playdates, birthday parties, and the actual act of trick-or-treating itself. It was amazing, and it left me wanting more and more for our Halloweens to come.
The other end-of-the-year holidays were no slouch, either. Meg watched the Macy’s Parade with genuine interest last year. She attended special Christmas themed music classes, and we had a great time at yet another preschool party. We saw Santa, baked cookies, wrapped and unwrapped countless gifts . . . tis the season when I was so jolly. I loved it. I loved sharing that excitement with my little one. And I liked being on the ‘grown up’ side of it for the first time in my life. We stayed up late on Christmas Eve, putting together toys and winding up for the fun morning that followed.
Valentine’s Day even gets reinvented when you have a kid! Now – that holiday – for me, it’s lost is luster since Jim and I spent our first one together in February of 2002. Since then, we’ve been devoted to each other 365 days a year (or 366, as in this year), so I don’t really care to celebrate Valentine’s. Call me a grump, but I don’t need anything to remind me that Jim is in love with me (okay, well, I’ll take a flower or two, if necessary). But with Meg, there were two parties in one day that we had to attend! And there were Valentine’s to make . . . which I hadn’t done in years.
Now Easter has come and gone, and we enjoyed it to the fullest. Egg hunting was phenomenal, as was the egg dying and Easter Basket filling. It was an event to look forward to, and a day to remember.
Holidays and kids – who knew? Chalk it up to yet another fantastic thing that nobody really tells you is going to happen when you become a parent.
Next around here . . . Mother’s Day! Now that’s one I really didn’t celebrate until I had a kid :)
Saturday, March 22, 2008
One More Easter Wish
Okay -- I had to post this one from last year. Meg will hate me for doing this in about 10 years, I'm sure . . . but it made for a CUTE 2007 Easter card for our family and friends ;)Hope you are enjoying your Sunday . . . Jim's putting pinestraw on the yard, I'm catching up on technology (photos/videos), and Meg is napping. Ahhhh . . . a nice, cozy Sunday around here.
Happy Easter Everyone!
From Our Family to You . . .
We hope you are enjoying this lovely weekend with your friends and family. Happy Easter to all of you!
(PS -- Flickr is my photography obsession -- I'm on it all the time, and I literally have friends all over the world because of it. I originally made the card for my site -- that's why it says 'Flickr Friends' in the signature.)
Thursday, March 20, 2008
The Preschool Egg-Stravaganza
Meg's preschool party was great -- she and her classmates had a GREAT time hunting for eggs, eating yummy snacks, and deocrating their photo frames. It was a total hit and a raging success!!
We had a very full day that totally wiped both Meg and I OUT. I'll let the pictures (all unedited because I'm too tired!) tell the story of how the party went . . .
We had a very full day that totally wiped both Meg and I OUT. I'll let the pictures (all unedited because I'm too tired!) tell the story of how the party went . . .
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Man Alive
A Family of FiveHad a shoot today that was stressing me out all week . . . the shoot was originally cancelled due to the inclimate weather we had on Saturday, and today was the reschedule date. Of course, 5 minutes after I had rescheduled, I checked the weather forecast for today . . . and all the way back on Friday they had depicted rain for today.
Um, today.
It was rainy when I woke up . . . or, super cloudy, at least. The kind of day when you have all the lights on in your house. The kind of day that is torture for a natural light photographer just like myself.
But, we couldn't seem to find a better date, so I loaded up the car and just hoped for the best.
It didn't turn out too bad . . . still, I'm not nearly done editing yet. Just picked a handful of 'good ones' that I liked and goofed with those a bit this afternoon.
But man -- a family of five is hard work! After my first experience with a large family, I promptly went home and raised my rates for anything larger than a family of four. On days like today, I'm REALLY glad I made that decision. The family could not have been nicer or easier to work with -- very well behaved kids -- it's just exhausting when you have that many to photograph.
And tomorrow -- after the Easter party at Meg's school -- I am working with a family of SIX.
Whew -- what a week!
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
My First Party
. . . as a preschool Mom.
Thursday afternoon, Meg and her classmates will gallivant around their playground, searching with all their might for Easter eggs and candy that teachers have lovingly stashed all over the yard.
Following the egg-stravaganza, the kids will return to their classroom and enjoy a party, complete with goodies and a craft . . . all hosted by yours truly and my friend, LeaEllen.
It’s my first time acting as ‘room mom’ for the classroom. The first time that I get to enjoy hosting a party in Meg’s classroom. And I can’t wait.
Most of you know already that I’m really delirious to be a mother. I always wanted to be a
‘mom’ – to be the mom that could host preschool parties, run the carpool, help with girl scouts – the whole 9, that’s me.
And I kinda feel like the day is arriving. I’m really stoked about the party – the planning has been fun, and the execution should be flawless.
On the Menu: Frosted Easter Cookies, fruit cups, and juice boxes (plus the candy in the eggs, of course)
The Craft: I took photos of each child wearing bunny ears, and I’ve made frames for each photo that the children will decorate with Easter colors and stickers. The frame reads: “I Love You More Than Anybunny!” – an adorable catchphrase that I cannot take any credit for – it was all LeaEllen’s idea.
Wish me luck as we approach the final days of preparation for the huge, 13 kid party we are hosting! Pictures and details of the day to follow, of course.
Thursday afternoon, Meg and her classmates will gallivant around their playground, searching with all their might for Easter eggs and candy that teachers have lovingly stashed all over the yard.
Following the egg-stravaganza, the kids will return to their classroom and enjoy a party, complete with goodies and a craft . . . all hosted by yours truly and my friend, LeaEllen.
It’s my first time acting as ‘room mom’ for the classroom. The first time that I get to enjoy hosting a party in Meg’s classroom. And I can’t wait.
Most of you know already that I’m really delirious to be a mother. I always wanted to be a
‘mom’ – to be the mom that could host preschool parties, run the carpool, help with girl scouts – the whole 9, that’s me.And I kinda feel like the day is arriving. I’m really stoked about the party – the planning has been fun, and the execution should be flawless.
On the Menu: Frosted Easter Cookies, fruit cups, and juice boxes (plus the candy in the eggs, of course)
The Craft: I took photos of each child wearing bunny ears, and I’ve made frames for each photo that the children will decorate with Easter colors and stickers. The frame reads: “I Love You More Than Anybunny!” – an adorable catchphrase that I cannot take any credit for – it was all LeaEllen’s idea.
Wish me luck as we approach the final days of preparation for the huge, 13 kid party we are hosting! Pictures and details of the day to follow, of course.
Monday, March 17, 2008
Decisons, Decisons
Do you know what occupied my thoughts for the entire day Friday . . . what totally hijacked my thinking to the point that I couldn’t function until it was decided?
Paint.
The color of paint for our playroom and bedroom in the basement.
This basement project has exhausted me with decision making. I don’t mean that I’m ungrateful for the opportunity to make these decisions . . . I enjoy having so much input. Jim and I wanted an unfinished basement so that we could do just this: make it exactly how WE want it. And we chose our contractor because he let us do so much of the decision making ourselves.
But, sheesh. I didn’t realize that we’d have to make SO many decisions.
It began with selecting a contractor. Then our input on the framing (you saw the blog about that one). Next came electricity . . . deciding exactly where we wanted every last outlet, light switch, and can light. I think that’s where I started to get a little tired . . . do you want the closet light switches inside or outside the closet? Where do you want your phone outlet – so that the phone sits on the bar counter or so that it hangs on the wall next to the bar? Do you want your sconces to be on the same switch as the rest of the room, or on their own?
Now we are on to bigger decisions – and it’s draining me. The details we are deciding now are the ones that really do make a difference in the final appearance of the basement. The cabinet designs are in their final stages. The trim is going to be white, like the rest of the house. The doorknobs are going to be brushed nickel. Tile in the bathroom is brown, ceramic, and already installed. Stain color for the media cabinet is dark brown, but no ‘red’ in it.
It’s the paint color is the part that held me up the longest. Honestly, the decision practically paralyzed me. I think it’s because I’m not 100% in LOVE with the color I chose for our bedroom back in February . . . it’s fine, I’ll live with it and I do like it . . . but it’s not exactly what I wanted. I don’t want to make that mistake again. The media room color wasn’t too hard because Jim really decided on that (although there was some difficultly selecting the final shade). The hallway and bathroom are both going to be the same color as most of the main level of the house. But the playroom and bedroom – which will be the same color – are totally giving me fits.
So, one phone call to a friend, numerous stops on many websites, three catalog viewings, four trips to buy sample paint (and $35 in samples), and 48 hours later, we have finally, FINALLY chosen a color for the playroom and bedroom. I swear to you, choosing the paint color was harder than choosing the name for our unborn child. Atmosphere Blue is our final choice.
“WHY am I making this so hard?” I asked the woman working at the Duron store on my third visit this weekend.
“It’s because you’re pregnant,” she said.
She was right. Why did we decide to do this when I was pregnant?
This morning, our contractor called and said he’ll need a decision on the flooring by the end of the week. Oh – and light fixtures will be needed soon, as well as more tile, bar-area granite and backsplash decisions should be coming up in the next 2 weeks.
At least we aren’t building an entire house. That would put me away for sure.
Paint.
The color of paint for our playroom and bedroom in the basement.
This basement project has exhausted me with decision making. I don’t mean that I’m ungrateful for the opportunity to make these decisions . . . I enjoy having so much input. Jim and I wanted an unfinished basement so that we could do just this: make it exactly how WE want it. And we chose our contractor because he let us do so much of the decision making ourselves.
But, sheesh. I didn’t realize that we’d have to make SO many decisions.
It began with selecting a contractor. Then our input on the framing (you saw the blog about that one). Next came electricity . . . deciding exactly where we wanted every last outlet, light switch, and can light. I think that’s where I started to get a little tired . . . do you want the closet light switches inside or outside the closet? Where do you want your phone outlet – so that the phone sits on the bar counter or so that it hangs on the wall next to the bar? Do you want your sconces to be on the same switch as the rest of the room, or on their own?
Now we are on to bigger decisions – and it’s draining me. The details we are deciding now are the ones that really do make a difference in the final appearance of the basement. The cabinet designs are in their final stages. The trim is going to be white, like the rest of the house. The doorknobs are going to be brushed nickel. Tile in the bathroom is brown, ceramic, and already installed. Stain color for the media cabinet is dark brown, but no ‘red’ in it.
It’s the paint color is the part that held me up the longest. Honestly, the decision practically paralyzed me. I think it’s because I’m not 100% in LOVE with the color I chose for our bedroom back in February . . . it’s fine, I’ll live with it and I do like it . . . but it’s not exactly what I wanted. I don’t want to make that mistake again. The media room color wasn’t too hard because Jim really decided on that (although there was some difficultly selecting the final shade). The hallway and bathroom are both going to be the same color as most of the main level of the house. But the playroom and bedroom – which will be the same color – are totally giving me fits.
So, one phone call to a friend, numerous stops on many websites, three catalog viewings, four trips to buy sample paint (and $35 in samples), and 48 hours later, we have finally, FINALLY chosen a color for the playroom and bedroom. I swear to you, choosing the paint color was harder than choosing the name for our unborn child. Atmosphere Blue is our final choice.
“WHY am I making this so hard?” I asked the woman working at the Duron store on my third visit this weekend.
“It’s because you’re pregnant,” she said.
She was right. Why did we decide to do this when I was pregnant?
This morning, our contractor called and said he’ll need a decision on the flooring by the end of the week. Oh – and light fixtures will be needed soon, as well as more tile, bar-area granite and backsplash decisions should be coming up in the next 2 weeks.
At least we aren’t building an entire house. That would put me away for sure.
playroom as seen from the hallway leading in
playroom as seen from the corner of the room
media room as seen from the doorway leading in from the playroom
It's hard to take pictures now because their are WALLS everywhere :) I'm going to video it soon and then post that -- that will give you a much better idea of what we have going on down under.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
High School Sweethearts
Friends joined us for dinner at our house tonight -- a few couples with whom we do a rotating dinner club. It was our turn to host . . . so we toured the house, ate good food, and caught up with one another. It's always great to see everyone and hear how all of our friends and their families are doing.This picture from our dinner party -- I just had to post it. This is Mac, my close friend's little boy. Meg and Mac are about 10 or 11 months apart . . . Meg born in June and Mac born late the following April. Mac's family is moving to a new neighborhood SO CLOSE to us, it's fantastic. We can't wait to have buddies so close by. I'm SUPER excited about it.
And -- one of the best things -- Meg and Mac will end up going to high school together. So, as soon as I saw this photo I took of them, I thought . . . "This is perfect for the back of their senior year book . . . on the pages that parents buy to embarrass their kid with baby photos and say 'congratulations' at the same time . . . "
This one is a keeper. I can't wait to show it to Meg and Mac in about 17 years, as they graduate from high school!
Friday, March 14, 2008
Saying No
I have a very, very hard time saying NO.
Lots of people can relate . . . I know there are many of us that share in this challenge. We can’t say ‘no’ to friends of family when they ask for something, even if the request is difficult or inconvenient for us to endure. We want to help. We can’t say ‘no’ to coworkers or peers for fear that they will think of us as lazy or inept – even when we don’t want to help. We can’t say ‘no’ to a request from our children because – well, a lot of times I just don’t want to say ‘no’ to Meg because I would give her the world if I could.
The issue that brings this topic to my mind has to do with HD Portraits and my upcoming ‘maternity leave’ . . . I’m having trouble saying ‘no’ to clients who are hoping to work with me as my due date approaches. Families that I work with will have milestones during the time I’d like to be off, home, taking care of my new family. Birthdays will come, 6 month milestones, etc. . . . and I hate missing those events. I’m having trouble saying NO, I can’t work with you.
Earlier this week, I decided that I would set a date – June 1 – and that would be my last session. I am filling up May dates, but when they are full, that’s going to have to be IT.
NO, I’m sorry, I can’t. No, I’m on maternity leave. No, my sessions are closed until September. (Sorry, just practicing.)
Why is it so HARD to say no?
It’s not that I am worried that they’ll find another photographer they like better. If they do, that is OK . . . I truly want people to work with the person that best fits their family, even if it’s not me. And I don’t think it’s the money that I’m worried about, either.
More than anything, I hate letting people down. I don’t like saying, “I can’t . . .” I want to be there and work with these families because they seem to genuinely care about me and love the work I do. It’s flattering. It’s heartwarming. And I guess that I fear my saying ‘no’ might turn them off in some way . . . make them feel like I’m not willing to work with them.
That’s probably the case in other areas of my life where I find myself saying the opposite of ‘no’ – when I really want to say NO. I don’t like letting people down. I don't want to appear lazy. I don’t want people to get mad or dislike me. I want to do it all.
Like I said, it’s not just the photo business to which I have trouble saying no. A girlfriend is getting married in late May, and she has gone out of her way to include me in her bachelorette party plans for earlier that month. But, I think I’m going to have to find a way to say ‘no’ to that trip . . . . the beach, bachelorettes, and my big old 34 week pregnant belly just don’t mix.
I’m also going to have to learn to say ‘no’ more often to my parents, who want me to come down with Meg more and more frequently these days. As I get bigger, I’m just not going to want to sit in the car for the hour long drive . . . I remember dreading it when I was pregnant before, and I didn’t have to load and unload a toddler at that time. I’m pretty sure they are going to stay on my case to come to see them all the time after Kate arrives . . . to which I’m going to have to say, “No – I have TWO kids – but why don’t you come up here for a visit?”
Saying ‘no’ is hard – for a lot of people. Including me.
I just have to find a way to get better at it.
(BTW – this ‘no’ business is also part of my only-child birth order personality traits . . . I really do need to write a blog about The Birth Order Book . . . it’s fascinating!)
Lots of people can relate . . . I know there are many of us that share in this challenge. We can’t say ‘no’ to friends of family when they ask for something, even if the request is difficult or inconvenient for us to endure. We want to help. We can’t say ‘no’ to coworkers or peers for fear that they will think of us as lazy or inept – even when we don’t want to help. We can’t say ‘no’ to a request from our children because – well, a lot of times I just don’t want to say ‘no’ to Meg because I would give her the world if I could.
The issue that brings this topic to my mind has to do with HD Portraits and my upcoming ‘maternity leave’ . . . I’m having trouble saying ‘no’ to clients who are hoping to work with me as my due date approaches. Families that I work with will have milestones during the time I’d like to be off, home, taking care of my new family. Birthdays will come, 6 month milestones, etc. . . . and I hate missing those events. I’m having trouble saying NO, I can’t work with you.
Earlier this week, I decided that I would set a date – June 1 – and that would be my last session. I am filling up May dates, but when they are full, that’s going to have to be IT.
NO, I’m sorry, I can’t. No, I’m on maternity leave. No, my sessions are closed until September. (Sorry, just practicing.)
Why is it so HARD to say no?
It’s not that I am worried that they’ll find another photographer they like better. If they do, that is OK . . . I truly want people to work with the person that best fits their family, even if it’s not me. And I don’t think it’s the money that I’m worried about, either.
More than anything, I hate letting people down. I don’t like saying, “I can’t . . .” I want to be there and work with these families because they seem to genuinely care about me and love the work I do. It’s flattering. It’s heartwarming. And I guess that I fear my saying ‘no’ might turn them off in some way . . . make them feel like I’m not willing to work with them.
That’s probably the case in other areas of my life where I find myself saying the opposite of ‘no’ – when I really want to say NO. I don’t like letting people down. I don't want to appear lazy. I don’t want people to get mad or dislike me. I want to do it all.
Like I said, it’s not just the photo business to which I have trouble saying no. A girlfriend is getting married in late May, and she has gone out of her way to include me in her bachelorette party plans for earlier that month. But, I think I’m going to have to find a way to say ‘no’ to that trip . . . . the beach, bachelorettes, and my big old 34 week pregnant belly just don’t mix.
I’m also going to have to learn to say ‘no’ more often to my parents, who want me to come down with Meg more and more frequently these days. As I get bigger, I’m just not going to want to sit in the car for the hour long drive . . . I remember dreading it when I was pregnant before, and I didn’t have to load and unload a toddler at that time. I’m pretty sure they are going to stay on my case to come to see them all the time after Kate arrives . . . to which I’m going to have to say, “No – I have TWO kids – but why don’t you come up here for a visit?”
Saying ‘no’ is hard – for a lot of people. Including me.
I just have to find a way to get better at it.
(BTW – this ‘no’ business is also part of my only-child birth order personality traits . . . I really do need to write a blog about The Birth Order Book . . . it’s fascinating!)
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Four in the Bed, and the Little One Said . . .
Each night, Meg and I have dinner at around 6:30pm, a short playtime follows, then its upstairs, into the tub, and into bed. It’s our routine. We’ve been doing it for as long as I can remember . . . probably since about January of 2007. It’s nice, peaceful, and the same every night. Meg’s official transition to her ‘big girl bed’ last week has been going swimmingly; there have been no problems at all to disrupt our routine.
After her 7:30-8:00pm bedtime, the rest of the night is mine. I usually work in those hours . . . spending most nights sitting in our office, editing photographs.
Last night, Meg was down by 7:45pm, and I had the night to myself. My cousin had come for dinner, so she and I watched some AI (American Idol, for those who do not have the same guilty pleasure I do). She left at about 10:00pm, and then I spent some time working on the computer.
At about 10 minutes until 11:00pm, I heard a bump above my head. It was a small noise, followed by a much louder THUD.
I flew up the stairs crying, “I’m coming! Baby, I’m coming!” the whole way.
Meg’s bedroom was directly above my head – directly above our office. I knew she’d fallen out of bed.
I think I took the stairs 3 at a time all the way up, slammed the light switch to ‘on’ with a bang. I found her, sleepy eyed and totally confused, picking herself up off the floor next to her ‘big girl’ bed. I’m relatively sure she was asleep when she plummeted the 2 feet (ish) to the ground . . . she certainly seemed startled and confused. She barely had time to get a whimper out before I scooped her up.
And you know what was going through my head?
Turn the light off . . . if she’s still sleepy, she’ll go back to sleep.
No! Turn the light back on . . . make sure she’s OK.
She’s ok . . . no blood or bruising . . . turn the light off again so she’ll go back to bed and is not up all night.
No, wait, turn on the bathroom light so you can see what’s going on.
All this chaos in my mind, while I stood in her room, rocking and swaying her little sobbing body.
I took her in the nursery (Kate’s room) where the rocker is now stationed, and we rocked for quite a while. I held her really tight . . . and I noticed my legs were shaking as the adrenaline started to subside. After several minutes of rocking, I took her back in her room and we lay together in her bed. I propped up pillows and tried to make her as safe as I could . . . God forbid this were to happen again later in the same night. She drifted off peacefully. My attempt to get out of bed was met with a, “Mama” whimper . . . and my thoughts were going a mile a minute again.
Lay back down with her, she’s so sad. I bet she’s scared.
Kiss her and leave the room . . . we don’t want to start the ‘getting into bed with the kid’ routine.
She’s breaking my heart . . . I want to lay with her more. If I could, I’d just sleep with her all night.
Leave quickly so she’ll go back to sleep.
I was so torn . . . but the 'Baby Wise' sensible side of me won out.
The whole ordeal lasted about 25 minutes, from the time of the thud until she was sleeping peacefully again with me on the other side of the door. I checked on her a million times through the night . . . even getting up at 1:30am and again at 3:45am to make sure she wasn’t going to fall out of bed again.
I have no idea what happened – what actually made her fall out of bed. She didn’t roll out . . . we have a bedrail firmly in place. She didn’t slip out between the rail and the bed. She didn’t come out of the bed at the head or foot, where the rail doesn’t cover. I think she went OVER the rail, but I am so sure she was asleep when she did it . . . I just have no idea what happened. Thank God she’s all right and didn’t get hurt. It scared the hell out of her – and me, too.
She slept last night with her ‘Boo baby’, her Elmo doll, and her ‘nigh nigh’ (lovee) all in the bed with her. So, four in the bed and the little one said, “Roll Over, Roll Over. . . .” Then they all rolled over and one fell out . . .
That song as been in my head all day.
Oh – and today after her nap was over, she crawled out of bed and peeked over the landing into our living room to let me know she was awake. Her second time getting up by herself.
I guess the ‘big girl bed saga’ will continue from here. Hopefully the remainder of the times she gets out of bed will be voluntary, like her post-nap adventure. No more involuntary midnight bed-jumping, please. My 25 week pregnant body can’t take another flight of stairs the way I did last night . . . and I don’t think my 30 year old heart can take the stress.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
In Treatment
I’m hooked on a new HBO series,
In Treatment . The show, starring Gabriel Byrne, is about a psychologist and four of his patients . . . all of which are very different and have unique problems of their own. The cool part is that you also get to see Paul, the psychologist, in his own therapy treatments . . . so you learn what he REALLY thinks of the whackos he’s treating. It’s all very addicting, and I’m totally hooked.
I don’t know why, but shows like this intrigue me. It’s like I enjoy watching how messed up the lives of these (fictional) people can become. I think it’s interesting to see what people in therapy are going through . . . the analysis of their youth, the details of their lives. Call me psycho . . . or just a bit voyeuristic.
The show is quite a commitment – it’s on 5 times a week, 30 minutes per episode. That’s 2 ½ hours of TV therapy. I’ll admit . . . if I try to watch too many episodes at once (I have them in the TIVO and watch them at leisure), my mind might wander during the expansive dialogue or the long, dramatic pauses. But, overall, it’s worth the commitment. Did I mentioned I’m hooked on the show?
And, sadly, it makes me wish . . . at least a little bit . . . that I could be in therapy, too. How strange I am. I don’t wish I had the problems of Laura, Alex, Sophie, Jake & Amy, or Paul himself . . . but I do think it would be fantastic to talk to someone that is totally impartial and completely removed from my life. Someone who could help me understand my own tendencies, where they came from, and how they influence those around me. It would give me a lot of insight into what makes me ME. It could just give me a good glimpse of myself. My true self (on second thought, that could be scary!).
I actually went to therapy just a very few times in my early 20s . . . three times total, I think . . . when I was having some serious problems with my parents and a boyfriend. It when I was about 22 . . . probably the lowest time in my life, emotionally, and I’m pretty sure that I was clinically depressed. I hardly even remember the sessions . . . other than the doctor asking me if I would be open to taking medication (hence my thought that I was depressed) and talking with him about buying myself my own computer. What strange memories that I have of that time, I think.
My therapy now would be different . . . my relationship with Jim, my father, my friends. It would be more therapeutic for me now, because I don’t find myself at a crossroads grasping for answers, as I did 8 years ago. I’d just like to take a deeper look at myself. I would like to think it could maybe make me a better person.
But, instead, I’ll settle for my TV psychoanalyst, Paul, in his at-home office, treating some of the great actors HBO found for this show.
It probably won’t come back after the first season . . . it’s kind of a downer at times, and – like I said – a lot of TV to watch. I was lucky to hear that my other fav on HBO, Tell Me You Love Me IS coming back . . . both of these shows are so heavy and sad. What is it that draws me to this kind of drama?
Maybe a therapist could help me figure that out.
In Treatment . The show, starring Gabriel Byrne, is about a psychologist and four of his patients . . . all of which are very different and have unique problems of their own. The cool part is that you also get to see Paul, the psychologist, in his own therapy treatments . . . so you learn what he REALLY thinks of the whackos he’s treating. It’s all very addicting, and I’m totally hooked.
I don’t know why, but shows like this intrigue me. It’s like I enjoy watching how messed up the lives of these (fictional) people can become. I think it’s interesting to see what people in therapy are going through . . . the analysis of their youth, the details of their lives. Call me psycho . . . or just a bit voyeuristic.
The show is quite a commitment – it’s on 5 times a week, 30 minutes per episode. That’s 2 ½ hours of TV therapy. I’ll admit . . . if I try to watch too many episodes at once (I have them in the TIVO and watch them at leisure), my mind might wander during the expansive dialogue or the long, dramatic pauses. But, overall, it’s worth the commitment. Did I mentioned I’m hooked on the show?
And, sadly, it makes me wish . . . at least a little bit . . . that I could be in therapy, too. How strange I am. I don’t wish I had the problems of Laura, Alex, Sophie, Jake & Amy, or Paul himself . . . but I do think it would be fantastic to talk to someone that is totally impartial and completely removed from my life. Someone who could help me understand my own tendencies, where they came from, and how they influence those around me. It would give me a lot of insight into what makes me ME. It could just give me a good glimpse of myself. My true self (on second thought, that could be scary!).
I actually went to therapy just a very few times in my early 20s . . . three times total, I think . . . when I was having some serious problems with my parents and a boyfriend. It when I was about 22 . . . probably the lowest time in my life, emotionally, and I’m pretty sure that I was clinically depressed. I hardly even remember the sessions . . . other than the doctor asking me if I would be open to taking medication (hence my thought that I was depressed) and talking with him about buying myself my own computer. What strange memories that I have of that time, I think.
My therapy now would be different . . . my relationship with Jim, my father, my friends. It would be more therapeutic for me now, because I don’t find myself at a crossroads grasping for answers, as I did 8 years ago. I’d just like to take a deeper look at myself. I would like to think it could maybe make me a better person.
But, instead, I’ll settle for my TV psychoanalyst, Paul, in his at-home office, treating some of the great actors HBO found for this show.
It probably won’t come back after the first season . . . it’s kind of a downer at times, and – like I said – a lot of TV to watch. I was lucky to hear that my other fav on HBO, Tell Me You Love Me IS coming back . . . both of these shows are so heavy and sad. What is it that draws me to this kind of drama?
Maybe a therapist could help me figure that out.
My Jim, The Genius
Jim suggested I reset our modem to see if that would fix my photo problems . . .
It did.
I'm back, 100%
Jim, what would I do without you?
It did.
I'm back, 100%
Jim, what would I do without you?
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Technical Difficulties -- Update
I still am having trouble with Blogspot and with my Picasa Web Albums . . . the trouble being that I can't really see anything more than text on any of these sites.
It's frusturating. And, beyond restarting the computer, I have no idea how to fix it. Everything else on the computer is working great.
UGH.
So, blogger, forgive me . . . I take back my nasty rant from yesterday. It seems it's not your problem. It's mine.
Jim will be home Thursday, so until then, I guess I'll be photoless and frusturated. I'll try to post, but it's hard when I don't really know what anything looks like (including my post from earlier today -- did the pictures come throught??). Hurry home, Jim! My blog-fans (both of them) are sad to be without me!!
It's frusturating. And, beyond restarting the computer, I have no idea how to fix it. Everything else on the computer is working great.
UGH.
So, blogger, forgive me . . . I take back my nasty rant from yesterday. It seems it's not your problem. It's mine.
Jim will be home Thursday, so until then, I guess I'll be photoless and frusturated. I'll try to post, but it's hard when I don't really know what anything looks like (including my post from earlier today -- did the pictures come throught??). Hurry home, Jim! My blog-fans (both of them) are sad to be without me!!
Hot off the Press
It’s certainly no People magazine or front page of the NY Times . . . but some of my photos are being published in Perspectives Magazine, a quarterly magazine for teachers of music.
Meg’s music class teacher, Ms. Jan, is the editor of this publication. When she found out that I was a photographer, she asked if I’d mind taking some photos of her classes for her . . . for use in this publication and other various things for which she often needs ‘live action’ photos. I was glad to do it. I enjoy taking candid shots so much, and I knew that Meg would love staying to play through 4 different music classes in one day!
In the end, Ms. Jan was so grateful for the photos, we actually ended up bartering . . . tuition for our class in exchange for the photos. Fine by me -- free classes for something I enjoy, anyway. Sounds like a deal.
Now the Winter 2008 issue is going to press, and they sent me a ‘soft copy’ to share with my friends and family. My name – “Photos by Heather Dahlby, HD Portraits, Marietta, GA” – is all over the credits pages. Meg is even in the issue, sitting on Ms. Jan’s lap, participating in the class.
Just a little ego boost for me. Had to share it with all of you.
Meg’s music class teacher, Ms. Jan, is the editor of this publication. When she found out that I was a photographer, she asked if I’d mind taking some photos of her classes for her . . . for use in this publication and other various things for which she often needs ‘live action’ photos. I was glad to do it. I enjoy taking candid shots so much, and I knew that Meg would love staying to play through 4 different music classes in one day!
In the end, Ms. Jan was so grateful for the photos, we actually ended up bartering . . . tuition for our class in exchange for the photos. Fine by me -- free classes for something I enjoy, anyway. Sounds like a deal.
Now the Winter 2008 issue is going to press, and they sent me a ‘soft copy’ to share with my friends and family. My name – “Photos by Heather Dahlby, HD Portraits, Marietta, GA” – is all over the credits pages. Meg is even in the issue, sitting on Ms. Jan’s lap, participating in the class.
Just a little ego boost for me. Had to share it with all of you.
Monday, March 10, 2008
What the #$%@ Blogger?
Blogspot isn't working today . . . no matter how many times I try to post a picture with my blog, nothing comes up. I've noticed that the blogs of friends who use this site are also down.
UGH. I hate technical difficulties. The blog I want to post is really nothing without the corresponding pictures, so I guess I'll blog another day.
Boo. Hiss. Get it right, Blogger!!
UGH. I hate technical difficulties. The blog I want to post is really nothing without the corresponding pictures, so I guess I'll blog another day.
Boo. Hiss. Get it right, Blogger!!
Friday, March 7, 2008
March 7th
Today was the due date for Baby 2, the baby we lost back in August.
I knew I’d think about it when this date arrived . . . I knew today would come, and I would not let it go by without remembering what happened last summer.
I really don’t know how to describe how I feel about it. I’m sad, of course. Remembering the loss of anything is always sad. But part of me is not as sad as I thought I’d be . . . because I really don’t want to think about it, maybe. I hated that experience . . . hated every minute of it. I hated how I felt, how I acted, how I couldn’t really get past it, no matter how hard I tried. I hope that I never, ever have to deal with that again.
I feel so lucky to be where I am on this date. I told myself that as long as I was pregnant again by the time March 7th came around, I’d be OK. I’d be able to move past the miscarraige. And that’s true . . . true for me and my experience, anyway. I’m 24 weeks along in a new pregnancy, and I feel good about that.
I can’t ever say that Kate ‘replaces’ the lost baby. That’s not the case. That’s not what I mean. Kate has helped me get over that loss, helped me look forward to the exciting things we have coming up in June. Knowing that we were able to conceive again and carry this baby has helped me heal.
But it hasn’t helped me forget. I’ll never forget. My close, close friend that also lost her 2nd baby told me that, as time goes on, you do think about it less and less . . . but you never really forget about it. You just move on.
There are other monumental dates in my past that I’ve moved past and don’t remember as vividly as I once did . . . the date my grandmother passed away, the date I graduated from high school, the date that Jim and I said ‘I love you’ for the first time. All big occasions in their day, and memories I’ll keep . . . just not as forefront in my mind as they were at the time. I haven’t forgotten. I’m just going on.
Kate is due on June 25th, 2008. I found out I was pregnant with Baby 2 on July 6th, 2007. So, but the time Kate arrives, I will pretty much feel like I’ve been pregnant for an entire year. It really and truly does feel that way . . . I feel like I’m finally showing, finally feeling pregnant, like it took us soooo long to get to this point. But, it’s worth waiting for.
Today, I remember Baby 2. Today, I hug my belly and look forward to Kate, Baby 3. And I got up this morning to a smiley Baby 1 – who spent her first full night in her ‘big girl bed’ last night – so all is right in the world.
I knew I’d think about it when this date arrived . . . I knew today would come, and I would not let it go by without remembering what happened last summer.
I really don’t know how to describe how I feel about it. I’m sad, of course. Remembering the loss of anything is always sad. But part of me is not as sad as I thought I’d be . . . because I really don’t want to think about it, maybe. I hated that experience . . . hated every minute of it. I hated how I felt, how I acted, how I couldn’t really get past it, no matter how hard I tried. I hope that I never, ever have to deal with that again.
I feel so lucky to be where I am on this date. I told myself that as long as I was pregnant again by the time March 7th came around, I’d be OK. I’d be able to move past the miscarraige. And that’s true . . . true for me and my experience, anyway. I’m 24 weeks along in a new pregnancy, and I feel good about that.
I can’t ever say that Kate ‘replaces’ the lost baby. That’s not the case. That’s not what I mean. Kate has helped me get over that loss, helped me look forward to the exciting things we have coming up in June. Knowing that we were able to conceive again and carry this baby has helped me heal.
But it hasn’t helped me forget. I’ll never forget. My close, close friend that also lost her 2nd baby told me that, as time goes on, you do think about it less and less . . . but you never really forget about it. You just move on.
There are other monumental dates in my past that I’ve moved past and don’t remember as vividly as I once did . . . the date my grandmother passed away, the date I graduated from high school, the date that Jim and I said ‘I love you’ for the first time. All big occasions in their day, and memories I’ll keep . . . just not as forefront in my mind as they were at the time. I haven’t forgotten. I’m just going on.
Kate is due on June 25th, 2008. I found out I was pregnant with Baby 2 on July 6th, 2007. So, but the time Kate arrives, I will pretty much feel like I’ve been pregnant for an entire year. It really and truly does feel that way . . . I feel like I’m finally showing, finally feeling pregnant, like it took us soooo long to get to this point. But, it’s worth waiting for.
Today, I remember Baby 2. Today, I hug my belly and look forward to Kate, Baby 3. And I got up this morning to a smiley Baby 1 – who spent her first full night in her ‘big girl bed’ last night – so all is right in the world.
I love this picture -- it was taken in Chicago on 7/6/07, about a hour or so after we'd found out we were expecting another baby. The smile on my face is about as genuine as you will ever see. I was so happy. I'll think of that every time I see this picture.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Kate: An Update
24+ weeks and counting. Baby Kate is growing strong. My last appointment was on the 4th, and all was well . . . heartbeat in the 140s, mommy’s weight in the 1XXs (and climbing!). Next appointment includes the dreaded glucose test . . . thank goodness my doctor gave me the 'soda' to drink on my way into the office. That will surely save some time at that LONG appointment.
I feel Kate move all the time, which – as previously mentioned in another blog – is so reassuring. Since I feel her move, I’m more and more confident in this pregnancy everyday . . . it’s Jim that seems to need the convincing that everything is going to be OK. I woke up in the middle of the night a couple of weeks ago because I was totally uncomfortable . . . not sick to my stomach, but just uncomfortable and a bit sore through my mid-section. I had a hard time explaining it to Jim, who (disclosed to me the next morning) thought I was in preterm labor of some kind. He asked a lot of questions, helped me get comfortable, then we eventually went back to sleep. The next morning, Jim said he was really nervous when I woke up all miserable. He thought something was wrong . . . just like the time I said, “Oh NO!” when going to the bathroom because my the sash for my bathrobe had fallen into the toilet. He freaked out then, too. And then this week, I called to tell him that I was on my way to the doctor and he spazed out – “Oh No!” he said, this time. I laughed and told him to relax, it was just the 24 week check up, nothing more. I guess because it’s my body, I know when things aren’t OK . . . but Jim just has to watch from the sidelines and be on guard for any problems that arise. There won’t be any problems – we’re doing great – but please help me convince Jim of that.
One thing that bothers me with this pregnancy – and it might seem silly – is when people say, “Oh, another girl? That’s great!” People are always happy when they say it . . . it’s not that . . .it’s the word another. For some reason, calling her ‘another’ girl really feels degrading to me. Like Meg was the original, and Kate is just ‘another’ one. I try very, very hard never to say it. I’ve asked Jim to do the same. I don’t want it to ever sound like we are disappointed that we are having a girl because nothing could be further from the truth. But, when you say ‘another’ girl, it sounds like it’s a disappointment to me. “Oh, another one, huh?” I don’t know. Call me crazy (or just pregnant) . . . but Kate is not just ‘another’ girl to me. She’s my new baby girl.
Last night, I had some time to spend in her room . . . her nursery . . . putting the crib back together and making it a real ‘baby room’ again (Meg was at my parents for the night – hence the ‘free’ time). I hung up her newborn dresses. I worked hard to get her crib mattress back in to the tall position. I washed and dried the crib linens, then put them in the crib. All of that was a bit emotional for me . . . getting ready for our new arrival. But the MOST emotional part was putting the mobile back on the crib. Just that little spinning mechanism threw me for a real loop. As I was fiddling with it, I bumped the ‘on’ button, and the mobile music flooded the room . . . and it flooded my heart. I was instantly whisked back to the late summer of 2006 . . . Meg lying in the crib, sun pouring in her nursery window at our old house, me standing there watching my baby. I couldn’t believe how vivid my memories of that were.
I started to cry. Not just weepy tears, but really crying tears. I cried because I know how lucky we are to have another baby coming to our wonderful home. I cried because Meg is so big now . . . those days of her with her mobile were so short, so sweet. I cried with excitement because I cannot wait to do it all over again. With a new baby. I told Jim about it during our nightly ‘going-to-bed’ phone call (our last chat of the night) . . . I told him how spending time the nursery, getting it ready for Kate, really made me realize that we are having a second baby. Not ‘another’ baby . . . a new baby. I can’t wait for him to come home tonight and see Kate’s crib, all ready for her arrival.
Kate’s doing great, and I can’t wait to meet her.
I feel Kate move all the time, which – as previously mentioned in another blog – is so reassuring. Since I feel her move, I’m more and more confident in this pregnancy everyday . . . it’s Jim that seems to need the convincing that everything is going to be OK. I woke up in the middle of the night a couple of weeks ago because I was totally uncomfortable . . . not sick to my stomach, but just uncomfortable and a bit sore through my mid-section. I had a hard time explaining it to Jim, who (disclosed to me the next morning) thought I was in preterm labor of some kind. He asked a lot of questions, helped me get comfortable, then we eventually went back to sleep. The next morning, Jim said he was really nervous when I woke up all miserable. He thought something was wrong . . . just like the time I said, “Oh NO!” when going to the bathroom because my the sash for my bathrobe had fallen into the toilet. He freaked out then, too. And then this week, I called to tell him that I was on my way to the doctor and he spazed out – “Oh No!” he said, this time. I laughed and told him to relax, it was just the 24 week check up, nothing more. I guess because it’s my body, I know when things aren’t OK . . . but Jim just has to watch from the sidelines and be on guard for any problems that arise. There won’t be any problems – we’re doing great – but please help me convince Jim of that.
One thing that bothers me with this pregnancy – and it might seem silly – is when people say, “Oh, another girl? That’s great!” People are always happy when they say it . . . it’s not that . . .it’s the word another. For some reason, calling her ‘another’ girl really feels degrading to me. Like Meg was the original, and Kate is just ‘another’ one. I try very, very hard never to say it. I’ve asked Jim to do the same. I don’t want it to ever sound like we are disappointed that we are having a girl because nothing could be further from the truth. But, when you say ‘another’ girl, it sounds like it’s a disappointment to me. “Oh, another one, huh?” I don’t know. Call me crazy (or just pregnant) . . . but Kate is not just ‘another’ girl to me. She’s my new baby girl.
Last night, I had some time to spend in her room . . . her nursery . . . putting the crib back together and making it a real ‘baby room’ again (Meg was at my parents for the night – hence the ‘free’ time). I hung up her newborn dresses. I worked hard to get her crib mattress back in to the tall position. I washed and dried the crib linens, then put them in the crib. All of that was a bit emotional for me . . . getting ready for our new arrival. But the MOST emotional part was putting the mobile back on the crib. Just that little spinning mechanism threw me for a real loop. As I was fiddling with it, I bumped the ‘on’ button, and the mobile music flooded the room . . . and it flooded my heart. I was instantly whisked back to the late summer of 2006 . . . Meg lying in the crib, sun pouring in her nursery window at our old house, me standing there watching my baby. I couldn’t believe how vivid my memories of that were.I started to cry. Not just weepy tears, but really crying tears. I cried because I know how lucky we are to have another baby coming to our wonderful home. I cried because Meg is so big now . . . those days of her with her mobile were so short, so sweet. I cried with excitement because I cannot wait to do it all over again. With a new baby. I told Jim about it during our nightly ‘going-to-bed’ phone call (our last chat of the night) . . . I told him how spending time the nursery, getting it ready for Kate, really made me realize that we are having a second baby. Not ‘another’ baby . . . a new baby. I can’t wait for him to come home tonight and see Kate’s crib, all ready for her arrival.
Kate’s doing great, and I can’t wait to meet her.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
Meg: An Update
When I look at Meg, I can’t even stand how big she is getting.
She’s grown so much in the last 20 months . . . but I sincerely think that the changes since her birthday in June are the ones I’m finding to be remarkably profound. During that first year, her changes were so physical . . . from a ‘bologna loaf’ (to coin a phrase from Jim’s hilarious cousin) to a sitting, standing, then walking toddler. Since her birthday, her physical changes have continued . . . she’s grown a considerable amount of hair, she’s gotten taller and lost her baby bell, she can jump and spin, and her coordination all around is fantastic.
But it’s the mental and emotional developments that seem to be hitting me, these days. She’s not a baby anymore – and I don’t just mean physically – she’s grown into this little person that has opinions and attitude and intelligence.
It’s just amazing to witness.
To give an idea of what I mean . . .
She absolutely knows what she wants at all times, and she has an unmistakable way of letting you know. Her language skills are fantastic and growing every day . . . but she can also let you know what she needs with her baby signs (she still pulls those out of her hat when needed) or just by physical gestures. I never have a doubt about her desires . . . though I can’t always MEET them, and sometimes a little pouting ensues when I figure out that she wants something she cannot have. No tantrums yet – but her little feelings get hurt when she receives a “No” from mommy.
Her language – as I mentioned – is growing by leaps and bounds. It is unbelievable to me -- new words are added to her repertoire each and every day. It seems as though her little brain has all of the sudden clicked into language mode, and she’s just absorbing and applying everything around her. Ask her to say it, and she’ll try. My favorites include blueberry, more (which she says along with the sign, a linguistic developmental milestone between signing and speaking), please, milk, book, hot and up (which sound the same, you have to hear them in context to know the difference), thank you (really just a combination of any two syllables she decides to throw together), and of course, Mama. 'Mama' started about 3 weeks ago now, and I had NO CLUE that it would sound as sweet and wonderful as it does. My heart floods when she says it. I can’t get enough of it. It was worth every minute of that 20 month wait.
She has ‘chores’ around the house, which she happily does when asked (for however long THAT lasts!). She helps by bringing the empty kitty-food bowl into the pantry, waits while I fill it, then carries it back to it’s place on the floor at the end of the counter. Whenever she removes her shoes, she gladly picks them up and puts them away in the bottom drawer of our kitchen-area desk . . . many times without being asked. Each evening, she rounds up and cups or plates in the living room and brings them to the dishwasher – she’ll even put them in the dishwasher, when it’s not too tricky. After dishes are done, we work together to clean up any toys or books that we’ve played with during the day . . . Meg is very particular about putting things exactly where she knows they belong. At bath time, she helps remove her own clothing and takes it directly to the dirty laundry basket in her bedroom. It’s pretty crazy for me to think that a nearly-two-year-old can handle these tasks . . . but she does. Each time I do something that I think she can handle, I offer the task to her, and she tries it. So far, she’s completed every one. It’s amazing.
I love to watch her think. She reads books to herself, just turning pages, and laughs at the drawings she sees. She imitates those around her – doing sad faces when she sees someone sad, laughing on command, and making a mad face when asked. She colors in her coloring books like a madwoman . . . carefully selecting each and every color she will use. When watching her new favorite, Diego, on TV, she responds to him when he asks, and she participates in the activities on screen.
While her body develops physically on its own, her little brain is in overdrive. I love it.
So today, I look at my little kid and think back to what a baby she once was. Then I think ahead to all that lies ahead. Being a parent is a pretty fantastic experience.
She’s grown so much in the last 20 months . . . but I sincerely think that the changes since her birthday in June are the ones I’m finding to be remarkably profound. During that first year, her changes were so physical . . . from a ‘bologna loaf’ (to coin a phrase from Jim’s hilarious cousin) to a sitting, standing, then walking toddler. Since her birthday, her physical changes have continued . . . she’s grown a considerable amount of hair, she’s gotten taller and lost her baby bell, she can jump and spin, and her coordination all around is fantastic.
But it’s the mental and emotional developments that seem to be hitting me, these days. She’s not a baby anymore – and I don’t just mean physically – she’s grown into this little person that has opinions and attitude and intelligence.
It’s just amazing to witness.
To give an idea of what I mean . . .
She absolutely knows what she wants at all times, and she has an unmistakable way of letting you know. Her language skills are fantastic and growing every day . . . but she can also let you know what she needs with her baby signs (she still pulls those out of her hat when needed) or just by physical gestures. I never have a doubt about her desires . . . though I can’t always MEET them, and sometimes a little pouting ensues when I figure out that she wants something she cannot have. No tantrums yet – but her little feelings get hurt when she receives a “No” from mommy.
Her language – as I mentioned – is growing by leaps and bounds. It is unbelievable to me -- new words are added to her repertoire each and every day. It seems as though her little brain has all of the sudden clicked into language mode, and she’s just absorbing and applying everything around her. Ask her to say it, and she’ll try. My favorites include blueberry, more (which she says along with the sign, a linguistic developmental milestone between signing and speaking), please, milk, book, hot and up (which sound the same, you have to hear them in context to know the difference), thank you (really just a combination of any two syllables she decides to throw together), and of course, Mama. 'Mama' started about 3 weeks ago now, and I had NO CLUE that it would sound as sweet and wonderful as it does. My heart floods when she says it. I can’t get enough of it. It was worth every minute of that 20 month wait.
She has ‘chores’ around the house, which she happily does when asked (for however long THAT lasts!). She helps by bringing the empty kitty-food bowl into the pantry, waits while I fill it, then carries it back to it’s place on the floor at the end of the counter. Whenever she removes her shoes, she gladly picks them up and puts them away in the bottom drawer of our kitchen-area desk . . . many times without being asked. Each evening, she rounds up and cups or plates in the living room and brings them to the dishwasher – she’ll even put them in the dishwasher, when it’s not too tricky. After dishes are done, we work together to clean up any toys or books that we’ve played with during the day . . . Meg is very particular about putting things exactly where she knows they belong. At bath time, she helps remove her own clothing and takes it directly to the dirty laundry basket in her bedroom. It’s pretty crazy for me to think that a nearly-two-year-old can handle these tasks . . . but she does. Each time I do something that I think she can handle, I offer the task to her, and she tries it. So far, she’s completed every one. It’s amazing.
I love to watch her think. She reads books to herself, just turning pages, and laughs at the drawings she sees. She imitates those around her – doing sad faces when she sees someone sad, laughing on command, and making a mad face when asked. She colors in her coloring books like a madwoman . . . carefully selecting each and every color she will use. When watching her new favorite, Diego, on TV, she responds to him when he asks, and she participates in the activities on screen.
While her body develops physically on its own, her little brain is in overdrive. I love it.
So today, I look at my little kid and think back to what a baby she once was. Then I think ahead to all that lies ahead. Being a parent is a pretty fantastic experience.
Meg in September -- shortly after we'd moved in to the new house.
Meg on Monday afternoon -- isn't the change remarkable? She looks so much bigger to me now.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
How To Help
How do you help a friend that is hurting? How can you help, when the very thing that is hurting your friend is the very thing that you are experiencing at the present time?
And it’s not like I wanted this to happen – and it’s not like she’s upset with me for it happening. It’s just an unfortunate combination of circumstances that have brought us to this point.
A dear friend I love so much wants to have a baby, and it’s not coming easily for her and her husband. I’ve been down that road . . . we all know the story . . . but her story is different. It’s harder. I can relate to her on some levels, but in many ways she is suffering in a way that I can only imagine.
I feel as if I can’t help. That nothing I can say or do makes her feel any better. That by trying to help, I am only making it worse. She doesn’t need her totally pregnant friend giving her advice or consoling her. But – I don’t want to NOT help or NOT try to help – I can’t stand that idea, either.
I don’t know what to do. I know that doing nothing – that leaving her alone – is most likely my best bet. At least, that is how I would have liked the situation handled if I were on her end. That’s how I DID want it handled when I was going through some of the same emotions that she is going through right now. That's what I've been trying to do with her up to this point.
I love her so much --- I want all the good things in life that she deserves to happen for her. All the things in life that come so easy to everyone else should come as easily to her. It’s not fair. I hate it. I hate it for her with the same hate that I had for my own situation in its day.
I can look back and think that everything happens for a reason – that it all works out in the end. But I could NEVER have imagined that when I was living through it, and I know she can’t right now, either. It’s not even fair for me to suggest that she try – she is entitled to feel any way she likes right now.
I wish I knew what to do.
I wish I could make it better.
I hate to have a friend suffer, especially one as truly fantastic and dear to me as she is.
So, I cry for her. I ache for her. And when her day comes – when she is a parent – I will be happier for her than any other friend she has.
‘Fair’ does not mean that everyone gets the same thing. True fairness means that everyone gets what he or she needs. Well, this situation is NOT fair. It’s just not fair. And I wish I could help.
And it’s not like I wanted this to happen – and it’s not like she’s upset with me for it happening. It’s just an unfortunate combination of circumstances that have brought us to this point.
A dear friend I love so much wants to have a baby, and it’s not coming easily for her and her husband. I’ve been down that road . . . we all know the story . . . but her story is different. It’s harder. I can relate to her on some levels, but in many ways she is suffering in a way that I can only imagine.
I feel as if I can’t help. That nothing I can say or do makes her feel any better. That by trying to help, I am only making it worse. She doesn’t need her totally pregnant friend giving her advice or consoling her. But – I don’t want to NOT help or NOT try to help – I can’t stand that idea, either.
I don’t know what to do. I know that doing nothing – that leaving her alone – is most likely my best bet. At least, that is how I would have liked the situation handled if I were on her end. That’s how I DID want it handled when I was going through some of the same emotions that she is going through right now. That's what I've been trying to do with her up to this point.
I love her so much --- I want all the good things in life that she deserves to happen for her. All the things in life that come so easy to everyone else should come as easily to her. It’s not fair. I hate it. I hate it for her with the same hate that I had for my own situation in its day.
I can look back and think that everything happens for a reason – that it all works out in the end. But I could NEVER have imagined that when I was living through it, and I know she can’t right now, either. It’s not even fair for me to suggest that she try – she is entitled to feel any way she likes right now.
I wish I knew what to do.
I wish I could make it better.
I hate to have a friend suffer, especially one as truly fantastic and dear to me as she is.
So, I cry for her. I ache for her. And when her day comes – when she is a parent – I will be happier for her than any other friend she has.
‘Fair’ does not mean that everyone gets the same thing. True fairness means that everyone gets what he or she needs. Well, this situation is NOT fair. It’s just not fair. And I wish I could help.
Monday, March 3, 2008
Sometimes, I Don't Like Myself
Ever feel like that?
There are things about myself that I just do not like . . . things I try to change, to correct, to amend . . . but sometimes it’s a losing battle.
One of the things that I dislike so much is my ever-present perfectionism. In a job interview, you could say that is your strength and your weakness . . . that you never rest until the job is done right, meaning that your work is of superior quality. But, often in life, it’s just a weakness. It gets it the way. It monopolizes your thoughts and your time. And it makes others around you want to pull their hair out in agony.
Jim can relate to that last part.
We – meaning the whole Dahlby clan – worked very, very hard this weekend on several projects around our house. Jim and his dad installed chair railing and crown molding in what is soon-to-be Kate’s nursery. The painted the ceiling. They painted the molding. They worked HARD. Then I went in (on request) and pointed out what I thought were small flaws in the craftsmanship . . . little touches here and there that I felt needed to be fixed before the job would be considered ‘done.’ Jim didn’t appreciate my input. He got defensive and upset. That, in turn, made me defensive and upset. I didn’t feel that it was fair for him to ask my opinion and then get mad at me when I gave it to him. He didn’t feel it was fair for me to pick-pick-pick at all the hard work he’d done. I didn’t feel that was what I was doing. He didn’t feel that he wanted me to be in the room anymore.
Jim says he hates doing projects with me because I’m so nitpicky. It’s true. I hate it, too. We always fight when we work on something like this weekend’s task. Whether it’s hanging a few pictures or painting and entire room, projects are always a source of contention between Jim and I. I wish I could do something to change the way I am . . . the perfectionist in me just wants to do EVERYTHING myself because then I’m not counting on others to live up to my ridiculously high standards. But, I can’t do it all . . . so I end up riding those who help me so hard that they don’t even want to help me anymore.
Perfectionism is an only-child (and first-born child) trait. I’ve read
The Birth Order Book , and I’ve learned a lot about why I am this way. In your family, you often look up to the next oldest person as your #1 role model . . . this begins as a very young child and continues as you grow. For an only child (or first born), the next oldest person is an adult. Only children watch adults at work and find that their own abilities are very much inferior . . . which causes them to strive for perfectionism to be like their adult role models. It’s a ridiculous standard to set for oneself. To think that a child can complete tasks or behave as an adult is just not healthy or feasible.
It’s not healthy, but I think it does explain a little about why I am the way I am. Blame it on my only-child status. (More on birth order in another blog – it’s fantastic theory and SO SO interesting!)
While we are blaming -- can I blame this on the pregnancy, too? The hormones, raging through my body – they are the reason I act like a lunatic when it comes to getting things done around here lately? Sadly, no . . . if it didn’t happen in not-pregnant life, I WOULD . . . but all too often I’m anal without child.
Now Jim and I will have to work to complete our nursery project next weekend, and I’m already dreading it. I don't want to fight anymore. I KNOW he worked hard this weekend – both he and his dad did a GREAT JOB in the nursery. That was not at all what I was saying when I noticed little defects in their work. I’m grateful for their work – it’s awesome and the nursery is going to be very sweet and soothing when it’s all complete. I was simply pointing out some things that still needed to be done, in my perfectionistic opinion. Maybe it was my approach – maybe I was too harsh in my request for repairs. I’ll think about that – maybe that is what I can control. Not the perfectionism, but they way I react to it.
Either way, I’m not really liking myself today. I’m wishing I wasn’t so critical. I’m hoping that I didn’t anger everyone around me over the weekend. And I’m trying to find a way to finish up our projects and remain a married woman.
I’ll keep you updated . . . both on the projects and my marriage.
There are things about myself that I just do not like . . . things I try to change, to correct, to amend . . . but sometimes it’s a losing battle.
One of the things that I dislike so much is my ever-present perfectionism. In a job interview, you could say that is your strength and your weakness . . . that you never rest until the job is done right, meaning that your work is of superior quality. But, often in life, it’s just a weakness. It gets it the way. It monopolizes your thoughts and your time. And it makes others around you want to pull their hair out in agony.
Jim can relate to that last part.
We – meaning the whole Dahlby clan – worked very, very hard this weekend on several projects around our house. Jim and his dad installed chair railing and crown molding in what is soon-to-be Kate’s nursery. The painted the ceiling. They painted the molding. They worked HARD. Then I went in (on request) and pointed out what I thought were small flaws in the craftsmanship . . . little touches here and there that I felt needed to be fixed before the job would be considered ‘done.’ Jim didn’t appreciate my input. He got defensive and upset. That, in turn, made me defensive and upset. I didn’t feel that it was fair for him to ask my opinion and then get mad at me when I gave it to him. He didn’t feel it was fair for me to pick-pick-pick at all the hard work he’d done. I didn’t feel that was what I was doing. He didn’t feel that he wanted me to be in the room anymore.
Jim says he hates doing projects with me because I’m so nitpicky. It’s true. I hate it, too. We always fight when we work on something like this weekend’s task. Whether it’s hanging a few pictures or painting and entire room, projects are always a source of contention between Jim and I. I wish I could do something to change the way I am . . . the perfectionist in me just wants to do EVERYTHING myself because then I’m not counting on others to live up to my ridiculously high standards. But, I can’t do it all . . . so I end up riding those who help me so hard that they don’t even want to help me anymore.
Perfectionism is an only-child (and first-born child) trait. I’ve read
The Birth Order Book , and I’ve learned a lot about why I am this way. In your family, you often look up to the next oldest person as your #1 role model . . . this begins as a very young child and continues as you grow. For an only child (or first born), the next oldest person is an adult. Only children watch adults at work and find that their own abilities are very much inferior . . . which causes them to strive for perfectionism to be like their adult role models. It’s a ridiculous standard to set for oneself. To think that a child can complete tasks or behave as an adult is just not healthy or feasible.
It’s not healthy, but I think it does explain a little about why I am the way I am. Blame it on my only-child status. (More on birth order in another blog – it’s fantastic theory and SO SO interesting!)
While we are blaming -- can I blame this on the pregnancy, too? The hormones, raging through my body – they are the reason I act like a lunatic when it comes to getting things done around here lately? Sadly, no . . . if it didn’t happen in not-pregnant life, I WOULD . . . but all too often I’m anal without child.
Now Jim and I will have to work to complete our nursery project next weekend, and I’m already dreading it. I don't want to fight anymore. I KNOW he worked hard this weekend – both he and his dad did a GREAT JOB in the nursery. That was not at all what I was saying when I noticed little defects in their work. I’m grateful for their work – it’s awesome and the nursery is going to be very sweet and soothing when it’s all complete. I was simply pointing out some things that still needed to be done, in my perfectionistic opinion. Maybe it was my approach – maybe I was too harsh in my request for repairs. I’ll think about that – maybe that is what I can control. Not the perfectionism, but they way I react to it.
Either way, I’m not really liking myself today. I’m wishing I wasn’t so critical. I’m hoping that I didn’t anger everyone around me over the weekend. And I’m trying to find a way to finish up our projects and remain a married woman.
I’ll keep you updated . . . both on the projects and my marriage.
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