Happy Easter - Happy Spring!

Given that Isabelle has no idea what Easter is, or really understands the concept of finding eggs, we had a pretty low key Easter. The Easter Bunny brought a basket to her house that contained egg-ears (see below), which Isabelle loved once she caught sight of her self in the mirror, bunny ears (ditto) and various objects that spin, light up or make noise. Oh, it's good to be the Baby!






And, of course, what would Easter be without eating mud I ask you? Boring. That's right, it would be boring. So let's all put on our bunny ears and cute pastel clothes and go eat some mud!




And when we are done eating mud, the beer!



Mud, beer, bunny ears, cousins, Auntie.... It was a wonderful holiday all in all.

At the beach!

In case you were wondering, after the fat lip incident, Paul took Isabelle to the beach for a few days. She had a ball. Watching birdies, running from the waves, snuggling with the cousins, and...eating the sand. Oh, and her lip got better and her tooth is no longer loose.







And a good time was had by all (well, except for Mama who was slaving away at work).

Tears and a fat lip.

Well, it finally happened. Fourteen months later Isabelle finally took a real spill that caused bleeding, hot tears, and a lot of crying. Oh, and it caused her mother to be besides herself with worry and concern.

Paul and Isabelle were getting ready to go to the beach to spend a few days with Linda, Clark, and the kids (lucky me - I get to stay and toil in the dungeon). I was upstairs getting ready and Paul was feeding Isabelle her breakfast. Paul had packed all of her clothes and toys and foods and diapers and the 1352 other things you need when you travel with a baby. Last to be packed was Isabelle's booster seat. It's one of those plastic ones with a tray that belts onto a regular chair.

At home, Isabelle's booster seat is tied to a bar stool - higher than a standard chair. When she eats she mostly sits still, but wiggles, and of late, tries to get her leg out from under the tray for some mysterious baby reason.

Well...Paul had, in his anal retentive way, already unbuckled the booster seat so it could be quickly packed. He did this, however, before Isabelle was put in the seat for her meal. Needless to say, when Isabelle wiggled this time she came crashing down, like a mobster into Lake Michigan wearing cement shoes.

All I heard from upstairs was a a very loud thud, followed by shrill crying. I thought maybe she just bumped into something or dropped something until I heard Paul telling her it was alright and saying "oh no." See, usually when Isabelle uses her head or some other various body part as a bettering ram and hurts herself Paul tells her she is fine. With this she usually stops crying and moves on. This time, he was responding with worry. That worried me.

I rushed down the stairs to see Paul holding my exuberant, chubby, almost always happy baby - sobbing and bleeding from her mouth. My heart raced and broke at the same time. She was trying to suck her thumb for comfort, but didn't want to put it in her mouth. So she just cried huge crocodile tears over a red, frightened face.

I took her in my arms and held her. I collected sheepy for her to hold and walked outside where it was cool and bright. I stepped in once to say something to Paul and she pointed at the booster seat and wailed. Paul scurried to pick it up and take it outside to the car. And she just kept crying. It seems like forever, but I am sure it was ten minutes or less. Then we just sat and rocked until she calmed down.

I wanted to feel her teeth to see if they were knocked loose, but she tightened her lips and wouldn't let me feel them -- this when she usually happily bares her teeth with a giant, squinting smile. I worked my finger in and found that one tooth was loose, not bad, but loose nonetheless. We called the pediatrician and spoke to a dentist who said there wasn't much we could do -- watch for an abscess and make sure the tooth doesn't turn gray.

Isabelle's lip was fat. Maybe twice its normal size. Her forehead had a large goose-egg and the right side of her nose was red from where she landed on her face. But she was alright.

About an hour after she feel I finally left for work. Worried for my baby, but knowing that she would in reality be fine.

After she took a nap Paul took her to the beach anyhow, which is where she is now. He reports her fat lip is receding and she is having a good time with Zach and Molly. What a little trooper.

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that the memory of seeing her scared and bleeding will stay with me much longer than it will stay with her. I wonder if it will change her daredevil ways of rolling off her changing table and shimmying over the sides of the furniture? I hope not. I love that side of her.

Deja Vu...well not quite.

As has been previously reported Isabelle loves to be outside and love mud (recall the mud eating caper from last October seen here). Anyhow, she always beats at the door and howls until you let her outside. So yesterday, a nice Sunday where the sun was actually out and the birds were tweeting, I let the Busy Baby out while I cleaned up the kitchen after her lunch. 36 seconds later when I looked outside to check on her, this is what I found:

Boats, fire pits, and mirrors.

Ah! The photo drought is over. I found the USB cable for the camera and will now be able to return to happy blogging with photos of the chubby baby.

So what's new in Isabelleville? Well, she is doing a great job walking. She walks just about everywhere, bumping and falling and generally looking like a drunken sailor. At night, when she is tired, she looks even funnier. I don't know why it is but its as if she has become boneless and reckless. She careens around like a loon on loon tablets falling tripping, bumping, falling, and rolling around. All happily.

Another new thing she does is when its time to put on her jammies she runs away from me - jammies in hand. She then puts them over her head, obscuring her eyes, and bumps into walls, door jams, me, etc. She does this repeatedly. The child is odd.

Some of her current favorite activities are pictured below. The first is her "boat":



She demands to be put into her boat with her toys and, of course, sheepy. Then you must pull the princess around like a giant tug. If you stop moving you will hear about it. LOUDLY. She likes to go fast and be spun around in her boat and she likes "rapids" (when you make the boat twist and turn and bounce). You get get an entire workout pulling the boat, sometimes for up to 20 minutes.

Next is the fire pit:



The child loves LOVES being outside. Now that she can walk we can open the door and let her an the cat raom about the backyard. Of course, the cat comes back clean. isabelle comes back covered in durt, mud and tree debris that is in the fire pit. However, she can impressivley shimy in and out of the fire pit on her own -- no small feat for a small, chubby, drunken sailor.

And finally, our old stand-by, the mirror. Oh, how the Baby loooooves the mirror. And with that physique staring back at you - what's not to love?!

The bad mother.

Do you ever get over feeling like you are a bad mother. Work has been oppressive lately and there is no end in sight. Needless to say I have been working very long hours and often getting home well after Isabelle has been bathed, fed and put to sleep on sheepy. I hate those nights. I hate not getting to read books to her and have her point out the moon on each page. I hate not being able to tell her that Mama loves her and smelling her sweet silky baby hair. I hate feeling absent and like I don't share any meaningful role in the rearing of my own wonderful, exuberant, magical child.

But there is something I hate more or at least as much and it is this is what makes me feel like such a bad mother. Being apathetic.

Saturday I slept until noon, which was actually a good thing because I didn't get home from work until 1:30 am. I needed the sleep, I had been sick all week, but had to work anyhow because of said oppression, above. After I got up I spent the rest of the day happily with Isabelle. Then Sunday came, I again got up a little late, but not too bad. We played and spent sometime together. But I was so damn tired. I didn't feel like playing. I didn't feel like being silly. I just felt like laying down.

So when Paul took ITL to Linda's for Paul's birthday dinner, I stayed home. From 2:00 pm until 7:30 pm they were gone. I lay on the couch and watched TV. I opted for that versus spending time with my child. It's not to say I didn't miss her, because I did. And I felt bad the whole time. Here it was Sunday -- one of two days I actually get to visit and play and be there as a parent -- and I holed up like a sloth on the sofa. I feel like a bad Mom.

I know there are times when I have to be gone from Isabelle because of work - I accept that. I work long hours so that we can afford to have Paul stay home with her. Sometimes I regret that. Sometimes I wish he worked and I stayed home. Sometimes I wish we both worked so we had more money and he didn't get to decide how to raise her (this is my insecure/jealous issue). I accept all of that. But how - when I miss her so much - can I just let her go and chose not to be with her? I don't know the answer to that question. But it makes me feel bad. It makes me feel like I failed, even if just for those 5 hours on Sunday.

Parenthood is hard. At least for me it is. Not in the usual ways. I mean, Isabelle is happy, she sleeps, she hardly cries, she is adaptable and cheery. It's hard because I don't want to make mistakes and yet I know I will. I don't want to be selfish, but sometimes I know its inevitable. I don't want to allow my temper to get the best of me and to get angry at a little person who can't even form the requisite intent to do something wilfully wrong -- but sometimes I do. I do get angry and I do get selfish and I do make mistakes. Parenthood is a hard job because you know you are doomed to fail in so many small ways and yet you move forward, you go back to it every day. Day after day. Failure after failure. Mistake after mistake.

None of this is to say that parenthood is not wonderful. I adore Isabelle with every fiber that is me. She is the one person in this world who I would give my life or my success or my happiness to if it meant she would be happy and safe in return. I am glad every day that I have her. But parenthood is a hard job. And sometimes I am a bad mother.

A day in the life of the "Baby"

***all times stated herein are subject to change based upon the whims of the Baby.

8:00 am: wake up, grin, talk to self, turn on mobile of birdies, play in crib for 2-15 minutes, grin, be removed from crib, have diaper changed - scowl or otherwise complain, change out of jammies into "walking around clothes, roll or leap from changing table like small chubby daredevil into arms of waiting (or sometimes sleepy and surprised)parent, grin.

8:25 am: be carried down stairs, point at microwave, point at Daddy, say "Da daaaa!" excitedly, point and smile while waving hello at Mini or Meeko, make sign for milk, whimper for the 5 seconds it takes between having bib put on and having bottle inserted to mouth, lovingly gulp down bottle while holding something-anything in hands (refuse to hold own bottle).

8:35 am: burp, squiggle out of arms of mother, walk around coffee table inspecting various items, motion to be put up on couch, slide down off couch, motion to be put up on recliner, inspect items on end table, slide down off recliner, grin enthusiastically at cute baby in the mirror saying "Baby!," play with various toys, toddle like drunken sailor into kitchen and slurp down copious amounts of morning smoothie, spit last mouthful of smoothie (made with all matters that stain,) grin.

9:15 am: eat 3-4 brown and serve sausage links and one sick of string cheese ("chs chs"), drink water from straw-cup, drop cup on floor (repeat times four), continue to stuff handfuls of food in mouth as if haven't eaten in two weeks, cough because multitudes of sausage pieces in mouth, drink water from cup, drop cup on floor, look at Meeko eating treasures rained from above in the form of meat and cheese, throw remaining pieces of food across the kitchen at velocity of semi-automatic weapon when done eating, make sign for "all done."

9:30 am: play with various toys, beat drum or xylophone, babble, look at cute baby in mirror, shake maracas, walk to stairs, loiter about stairs going up and down first 5 stairs repeatedly, shut baby gate on stairs, ask for "help" to open baby gate, shut baby gate (repeat cycle 4-5 times), smile, crawl upstairs, babble, have diaper changed - cry dramatically at the trauma of having diaper changed, walk to bonus room and push open doors like ole John Wayne, play with toys in bonus room.

10:20 am: get sleepy, suck thumb, watch Little Einsteins or Baby Mozart, hug sheepy, suck thumb.

10:40 am: check diaper - change if necessary (with associated disgruntlement), read two books, jab with pudgy index finger at the moon on every page of Goodnight Gorilla, be placed on crib on sheepy, pitch all items (except sheepy) out of crib, turn on birdie mobile in crib, go to sleep on sheepy.

12:30 pm: wake up, squawk loudly (perhaps because pooping), play in crib, babble to self, grin, have stinky diaper changed with much drama, attempt to roll away while having stinky diaper changed (repeat times three), roll off changing table, grin, go downstairs, have bottle of milk, refuse to hold own bottle.

12:45 pm: look at the cute baby in the mirror saying "Baby!,", beat on the mirror shrieking with glee, play with various toys, toddle to the stairs, climb up the first four stairs, slide down the first four stairs (repeat cycle three times), see laptop, sign for help to open the laptop, fuss if the laptop isn't immediately opened, say "baaaabay" when picture of baby shows up on the laptop screen, beat on laptop keyboard, watch mesmerized at the short videos of the baby being played on the laptop, cry with much drama when laptop is put away and "all gone."

1:30: eat turkey, grapes, cheese ("chs chs"), drink water from straw cup, drop straw cup on ground (repeat times three), change from walking around clothes into daytime clothes.

1:50: load up into MDX, complain if sheepy is not loaded promptly, watch the Wiggles on DVD in car, go to supermarket, smile at each and every person seen, flirt shamelessly with checkout clerk, head home.

2:55: have diaper changed, sign for the video with the "baaaaby" to be played, watch video, become bored with video, look under couch for the laptop, repeat laptop cycle above, see swing outside and point while signing for "help," swing until parent can swing no longer, protest loudly when swinging is "all done," wreslte with Daddy and giggle a deeped-voiced belly giggle,

3:30 pm: have diaper changed, read Goodnight Gorilla, That's Not My Lion, and I Howl I Growl, sign for sheepy, be placed in crib on sheepy, turn on birdies mobile, knock over large stuffed giraffe in room, beat on drum near crib, go to sleep.

4:45 pm: wake up, babble, be removed from crib, have diaper changed, attempt to flee whilst having diaper changed, slide downstairs, sit on counter while bottle of milk is being prepared, throw anything within reach off counter, be placed on ground while milk is being prepared, cry and fuss and cling to Mama's leg after being placed on ground, be picked up by Mama (sucker!) while bottle of milk is being readied, suck down bottle of milk -- refuse to hold bottle, hold various things instead (pens, toys,fingernail clippers.

5:00 pm: play with remote controlled Rocket, walk to stairs, climb up first five stairs, slide down (repeat cycle 4-5 times), climb up stairs, walk into spare bathroom, attempt to get into tub, open all drawers and cupboards and take things out, have diaper changed, be taken into bonus room, play on couch, climb on treadmill, assault various toys and throw them about.

6:30 pm: go downstairs, have another bottle of milk.

7:00 pm: have diaper changed, eat chicken, maybe eat peas - maybe throw them, maybe eat cheese - maybe throw it, maybe eat berries, maybe drizzle them out of mouth, eat bread, maybe eat crackers - maybe crush them in hands, maybe eat broccoli - maybe throw it, give sign for "all done," be given sign for "bath," become exuberant and shake head back and forth expecting parent to sing "bath night song" (which parents dutifully does), grin, be ferried upstairs and undressed, splash and kick in bath making happy sounds, have hair made into horns with shampoo, look at the baby in the mirror and dismantle shampoo horns, drink bathwater, be removed from bath.

7:40 pm: smilingly attempt to flee while being dried off, locate the lotion when Mama asks where it is, have lotion applied while parents sings "the lotion song," flee from room naked liked greased pig, walk around the upstairs naked grinning and leaving every time Mama says its time to put your diaper on, finally be caught and complaint LOUDLY at having diaper and jammies put on, escape diapered and clothed, walk into Mama's room, grin and point at fan and sign "help" until its turned on, go to laundry basket and remove all dirty clothes, point to laundry basket and sign "help," be placed in laundry basket (boat) and happily be drug around by exhausted parent, sign for sheepy to be placed in boat, continue to be drug around by even more exhausted parent, be removed from boat with vehement protestations.

8:15 pm: have diaper changed, sign for sheepy, hold sheepy and suck thumb while reading Goodnight Gorilla, point to the moon on every page and when asked point to the banana ("nana"), turn back the pages repeatedly so they are reread and repointed to, be placed in crib on sheepy, scramble up to turn on birdies modile, fuss slightly when Mama leaves the room, go to sleep.

Has anyone noticed the COMMENTS function?

Okay, I admit that I like to write this blog. I think it more accurately captures Isabelle's journey in life better than a baby book (although I keep one of those too) and its very fun to look back on as the months go by. But, uhm, am I the only person who bloody reads this thing?!?! I admits, two or three of my friends will write me about the blog every so often and tell me about what they thought of a particular post, but that's about it. Family members???? HELLO! Do you read this?

If I am falsely accusing people of being lackadaisical about reading the blog (moi? falsely accuse? say it isn't so), I say prove it. Post a comment about what you thought of the blog or how your kids were at that age. I think comments are just as interesting part of the blog (well maybe not just as interesting) as the original posts themselves. So do it, damnit.

What is new? Paul took ITL to the allergist today (see previous entry with hive photos). It seems allergies are hard to detect in babies through skin tests. No allergies showed up, which is good because if they had it would mean she had some frightening uber-allergy. Luckily she does not.

Over the last few weeks we have been trying to determine her allergy or food sensitivity (read hives and burning-bottom-diarrhea). We believe her allergy is to eggs. Originally we though it was milk and/or cheese or eggs. However, we have successfully reintroduced milk and cheese. Eggs appear to be the culprit. Which is fine by me as I am not a fan of unfertilized chicken embryo-like-bits.

In other news Isabelle is continuing to walk more. Not everywhere and she is still extremely Franken-babiy-like, but more and more. She can walk down the entire hallway (maybe 25 feet) and she can turn corners walking and stop and start again without falling down. It's extra cute. I have been wanting her to walk for a long time because it seems like it will be freeing to her and us: no more having to sit in a stroller, she can go outside when its wet (always) and walk around etc. But I have to admit, I am going to miss her crawling. I think I mentioned this before, but Isabelle really twists her body when she crawls. My Mom very aptly described her and looking like a monitor lizard on the move. She also sometimes swings her head back and forth (very Stevie Wonder like) when she crawls and does this funny standing still on all fours, rocking back and forth thing. I will miss all of those funny actions.

It's funny how when you have a baby you are always looking forward to the next milestone, the next discovery, the next level of interaction. I am not begrudging any of that. But I need to learn to appreciate the now more -- where she is every day -- because it changes so fast, sometimes literally overnight.

Isabelle's changes and growth over the lat 13 months have been remarkable. I wish I could bottle and preserve all of those little moments and funny things that she does. I wish there were a way to record all of the firsts so that I could see and feel them over and over again. I suppose that this blog lets me do that, in some small way, and maybe that's why I enjoy writing it so much. Or maybe its because when I write in the blog my memories are new enough that I do get to relive again the moments that I am writing about.

My genetics!

Other than her brown hair and brown eyes, Isabelle looks like Paul. Everyone says so, because...it's true. We have a baby picture of him and one of me. There is no resemblance to me as a baby and A LOT of him. She also has a bit of his personality, ie she gets frustrated and grumpy when she can't do something right away (I am sure she is swearing in baby-language). Of course, she also has an exuberant and cheery personality and is almost always happy. So, uhm, well she's not just like Paul. Let's leave it at that...

So, I am thinking, how is this child LIKE ME (damnit)???!!!. Here is how. She loves meat. Beef, pork, turkey, she loves it all and eats it with great gusto. What a good girlie.

Last weekend Paul BBQ'd ribs and we decided to hand one to Isabelle as she was lunging for them anyhow and grumpy to be fed scraps. other than almost choking herself from tearing off a huge chunk o' meat, she loved them. That's my girl!

Walking and itching.

I know its been a while since I have posted. Work has been oppressive and, well, blogging is lower on my personal Maslow's-hierarchy than sleep and spending time with ITL. So please forgive the long absence.

Nothing too new to report. When we were in san Diego the weekend before last, Isabelle had an allergic reaction to something:




We are pretty sure it is a food allergy. She is going to have her allergies tested next week. Poor child, she is allergen-prone from both sides of the family tree. I am afraid she is doomed in the allergy department.

In other news she is walking quite a bit more. Crawling is still her main mode of motation, but she continually makes walking efforts all day long. She can now take 10 or more steps and even stop and start and go around corners.

I think she was inspired to walk more after we (me and my friend Liz) took her to the Children's Museum here in Portland. It's a cool place where they have activities of for all ages. ITL was, of course, in the baby room (Th Magical Baby Forest"). There were about four other babies there her same/similar age....all of them were walking. Now, all of them were smaller than her too so I am wondering if her hugeness is an impediment to her walking. Either that of being carried is just a much better way to go.

In any event after vising the Magical Baby Forest she started walking more and more. It's exceptionally cute. Sometimes she is very controlled with her Franken-baby movements. At other times she just speeds forward at you like a small, chubbly, locomotive and crashes into your lap.

Below are some pictures from the Children's Museum. The first few are in the Baby Forest. She had fun there. The last few are at the water exhibit....which she LOVED. The child loves water. Loves her bath, always wants to play in the sink, loves to drink the stuff. She is a water baby. So imagine how thrilled she was when she was able to stand near and play and SPLASH in moving water. As you can see form the state of her clothing in the last picture she became one with the water. Of course, becoming one with the water included (a) Isabelle drinking the nasty germ-filled liquid and (b) trying repeatedly to get her little legs up to sit in the water.

It was fun. For Isabelle and me and Liz anyway, all other children fled when they realized by standing next to ITL they were going to be in the "splash-zone" and one grumpy mother said loudly enough for me to hear (imagine a bitchy tone): "She's just letting that child splash everywhere." Luckily, i observed that we were at the freaking Children's Museum and at a water feature nonetheless and ignore Ms. Uptight. And Isabelle, of course, couldn't have cared less.

Obeservations on communications at one year.

I am reading a book called "How Babies Talk." It's about how babies learn to communicate and learn and what a huge and involved process that is. It's actually fairly amazing that such tiny creatures can grab words from a sea of babble and learn, remember and finally repeat them in context. The analogy that the book gave was if you went to a foreign country where you knew nothing about the language - how hard would it be to pick that language up. I suppose for some people that may be easy, but for most of us (like me, who after 2 years of high school French class, I still don't think I could do much more than ask where the post office is) it would be a difficult tasks indeed. And quite frustrating.

Anyhow, the book suggests that monitoring your baby's communication abilities will be fun and interesting -- to see just how far they progress in 3, 6 or 12 months. So to memorialize where Isabelle currently is on the ole communication index, here is what she knows, as of today:

Words Isabelle can Recognize (i.e. if you ask her where one of these items is she will look for it):
Brush (as in hair brush)
Mini
Meeko
Hat
Teeth
Nose
Eyes
Ear (this one is a little hit or miss still)
Hair
Teeth
The Baby
Daddy
Mama
Sheepy
Ball
Bath
Bye-bye
Hi
Kazoo
Flute
Belly
Cow
Lion (as in her stuffed lion chair)
Leo (her stiffed fluffy lion)
Toothbrush
Tower (i.e., the tower I build out of her blocks that she loves to whack down)

I am sure there are more, I just can't seem to think of them right now. I will update this post if I think of more.

She also has learned a few more signs, although, much to my irritations, she continues to use the sign for "more" for "help" as well. Sigh.... Here are the signs she can do and/or recognize:
More
Bath
All done
Water
Bye-bye

Lastly, she has learned how to make some animal sounds when you ask her what X animal says. Here are the animal sounds she has mastered thus far:
Cow = moo
Chicken = bock bock
Snake = ssssssss
Owl = who who
Lion = ROAR (this one is the cutest by far, to see such a tiny cheerful baby making a guttural little roar)

In other news, she still refuses to walk more that 3-5 steps. She is crawling like a mad woman and is really starting to climb on things. She continues to use her head as a bettering ram on various objects throughout the house.

All is all she is doing great. And I adore her more and more each day.

Then and now.

Sometimes I look at Isabelle and she seems like such a tiny little person. Other times it seems like she has grown threefold overnight. I think there is truth in both observations.

When Isabelle was tiny one of her favorite places to take a snooze was on Paul's chest. I am sure when she gets older she will want to snuggle up and sleep there again. In the meantime she refuses to hold still long enough to snooze peacefully. Instead, she squiggles away looking for something to stuff in her mouth, inspect, throw, or beat on.

See the changes in the baby from last March to now:

Life and death. A somber entry.

I know this blog is about Isabelle, and this post will in some ways relate to her, although not directly. But I felt compelled to enter this post because somehow I have found that writing about things helps me to understand them better. Writing lets me sort and weigh and consider information in a way that I cannot seem to do inside of my head. So bear with me.

Yesterday my cousin Kim committed suicide. Kim was about 10 years older than me, so I didn't really grow up with her, but I loved her just the same. As a child I was best friends with her sister Shana and so by default was around Kim, at least for a few years, before she grew up and moved out. We have spent time together over the years and holidays and family get togethers. I admit not a lot of time, time nonetheless.

Kim was the first person to come and see and hold Isabelle in the hospital. She commented on how beautiful she was and softly stroked Isabelle's soft little cheeks. Kim didn't have a lot of money, but gave Isabelle a rattle that still gets played with sometimes today.

I can't remember the last time I saw Kim. I think it was after Isabelle was born. I think it was at a fundraiser in San Diego a few months before we moved. She looked good and seemed okay. Things aren't what they seem. Not that this is a surprise, Kim was sad for almost as long as I can remember. Her demons were depression and alcohol. She also felt misunderstood and unloved. She had no husband, rarely even a decent boyfriend, and no children - despite her big heart and deep tenderness.

Her demons were just too much to bear. Last night after hearing about Kim and before I went to bed, I did my nightly routine of looking in on Isabelle. She was sleeping on her belly with her face turned to the side. Her head was on her sheepy and her little mouth was puckered from the weight of her cheeks so that it lay slightly open in the shape of an o. She was breathing softly and sleeping soundly. I leaned down to smell her sweet hair and kiss her. I told her I loved her and my greatest wish in the world above money or success or anything was that she be happy. And then I cried.

Kim was once a tiny baby like Isabelle, who slumbered peacefully. Her parents kissed her tenderly atop the head and wished love for her. My heart breaks for them now. My heart breaks for Kim and for all of the years that she wallowed in pain, fighting the alcohol and the drugs and the depression that attacked like a siege of relentless warriors - not allowing her to sleep or to breath or to live without fear and sadness. Eventually the battle went on too long and was too rigorous and she lost hope.

How does that sweet innocent baby become such a sad adult. What happens? Is it something chemical, is it learned, is it a series of bad choices that compound over time? The scary thing is that I don't know - none of us do - so we have no way of stopping it. No way of fixing it. No way of preventing it.

Guilt and blame will be common for my family I fear. Both are useless and harmful emotions in situations like this. Kim was an adult. No one could change her mind or force her to take medication or seek counseling if she didn't want to. No one could make her feel happy. No one could give her the hope that she lost, or maybe never had.

I just wish I could understand how she got to where she did in the end. And I pray to an unknown and unnamed God that Isabelle doesn't suffer the same fate. I will try to do my best as her mother to help her and guide her to happiness. But I know there are somethings that I simply will not be able to control. Those things paralyze me with fear some days.

I am sad today. I will be sad tomorrow. I really want to believe there is a heaven and that Kim is there now at peace. But even if there is not, if there is nothing, I know she is no longer in pain and tortured by her worldly demons. And for that small fact I am grateful.

I will miss Kim, her laugh, her smart mind, her pretty face, her funny sense of humor. A little piece of my heart is broken now. A little piece that will not be fixed, but will always be sharp with pain.

Officially official.

I think I can finally say that Isabelle has said her first words and made her first step. She officially can say "da" "da da" and "daaaaaaa!" (the latter of which is said with a high pitched squeal). Of course, she doesn't yet identify me as "mama" or say it in any recognizing way. Darn Daddy's girl that she is. She also can say "baby" which sounds like "beh-beh" she will say it looking at herself in the mirror or when she sees a picture of herself or another baby. She can also say "Hi" which sounds like "hieeh" and for balloon says "ba." These are officially are her first real words.

She also is making real steps. Usually about 3, sometimes up to 5. Yesterday she took 5 steps from her baby rocking chair, even stopping and balancing herself before she went on. It's very cute. She claps for herself when she does a good job too. She is such a ray of happy sunshine.

It's a party!

Isabelle had her first birthday party on the 20th. It was a very fun event with our good friends and family in attendance. Of course, Isabelle had no clue about the meaning of the party, she just knew there were other kids around (which she loves being the social butterfly that she is) and new toys--enough to ensure that she had a fabulous time!

Happy First Birthday Sweet Baby!

How can it have already been a year? Time seems to have just flown by. Look at how tiny she was...






Look at what a big girl, full of silliness, and curiosity, and wonder she has become...





I made a little movie of some video I took of the big-girl over the last few days (can I tell you how much I love IMovies on the new Mac we bought!?). Anyhow, click here to view some ITL cuteness!


PS: sorry about the quality of the video - something got lost in translation to Yahoo Video, I will try to get a better quality video posted tonight.