All the Little Things

As the first month of Anni's second year slips by, I've been straining to catch these fleeting "little" moments.  I feel like every time I blink, Miss Anni grows a little taller, gets a little smarter and becomes just a little more independent from her mama.  I love watching her grow up, I'm proud of her.  Sometimes I feel like I'm lost in one of those dreams where I woke up married, with a baby and couldn't remember how I had gotten there.  This life is much sweeter than those dreams: I know how I got here.  I loved a boy, and that boy loved me, and we got married and from our love came a baby: a sweet, itty bitty little girl.  She grins when I walk in the door and wraps her arms around my neck when she's scared.  She loves being loved and would read books all day if there wasn't hide and seeking to be done.  When we walk outside her whole face lights up.  She'll spend serious concentrated lengths of time with the carrier, trying to put it on herself so we can go out again.  She doesn't get to go outside as often as she deserves.  I love watching her discover.  I love her sweetness and as much as they frustrate me, I think her little fits are hilarious.  I love that when you ask her for kisses, she leans her forehead in to be kissed and claps when you've done so.  I love that she loves pickles and eats them first, unless there is yogurt to be had... then that wins.  I love what she has done to me and who she has made me.  There aren't words enough to explain my love for this girl.  Sweet girl, I'd do anything for you.

   

You are allowed to like yourself

Somewhere along the way, earlier than you think, something, someone whispered that you weren't good enough.

And from then on, you always felt a little guilty when you were proud of yourself, or when you wanted to share your accomplishments.

I'm going to share something with you, though, and you can tell anyone you'd like.

You can like yourself, really.  You can be proud of the things you do well without taking anything away from other people who also do things well.  And in turn, they can be proud of the things they do well, without in any way damaging you.

It's so simple, really, but it took me a long time to learn that hiding what we love about ourselves does no one any favors. 

So, I'm going to start... but I want to hear what you love about yourself as well.  Post it in a comment, blog about it, tweet about it, you are beautiful, special and unique and it's okay to say so!

I love:

- that I like to take care of people.
- that I can cook a good meal.
- that I've come so far in my photography, and yeah, I'm good at it.
- that I'm raising a happy baby.
- that I have unique handwriting
- that I sing well
- that I look good in red
- that my husband thinks I'm cute and maybe I am :)

Okay, now I want to hear yours.  Tell me what you love about yourself!

Sweet baby love

Those of you that follow both of my blogs will recognize this from my photography blog, because it's the photographer in me that loves every grainy, dimly lit inch of this photograph of a daddy loving his girl.  But, it's the momma and wife in me too.  Seriously, though this is the one I want her to see when she's 23 and wants to get married.  If she ever needs to know how much her daddy loves her, this picture says it all.

[And if curiosity gets the better of you, this was late this evening when we had to retape her oxygen to her face long after she'd been asleep.  Poor girl was very confused afterwards and daddy just snuggled her back to sleep with this loving smile on his face the whole time.]

Recuperating

If you missed the last blog, I'll catch you up.
Nugget + Bronchialitis = hospital visit and oxygen.


We had our followup yesterday and the hope is that she'll be holding her own again by Tuesday and we can get rid of the tubes.  She seems a lot more cheerful and herself today.  I missed that little quirky girl while she was off being sick and cranky.  Not that she's not still a little cranky (as I type this, she headed into the downward spin cry, guess it's time for naps!)   

I was discussing Anni having to be in the hospital and my husband told me, "All kids are in the hospital sometimes, it's party of childhood."  I had never been from the time I was born until my pregnant self landed there with kidney stones.  He; however, had severely broken bones, tonsils to get removed and an illness or two that left him hospitalized.  So, what about you... did you spend time in the hospital when you were a kid?    



Okay, must go lie the babe down. 

See?  Much better!

Is this real life?

There must be something about her birthday that makes her feel the need to be in the hospital scaring the spit out of mommy and daddy.

Cuz, that's what she did.

Okay, to be fair it was the day after her birthday.  We went to the doctor to have her rather nasty sounding cough checked out.  I've done this a few times this winter and expected the same answer as before (that she's fine and we just need to wait it out).  No such luck.  7 hours in the hospital later, we were back on oxygen with a very tired little sickie.

Yeah, that tank is huge.  When she came home on oxygen last year, we only had the small tanks... which worked because she was only on a tiny little whiff.  She's on a bit more now, so this baby is now sitting in our hallway with tubing rolled all over the apartment (it's kind of sweet not to have to carry a tank every time we move her).

Luckily, we've got a tough little girl that will be healthy again soon and some amazing friends who brought us food so we can easily avoid the whole "oxygen in the kitchen" thing.  (The rule 6-8 feet away from the stove is tough when that part of your your apartment isn't much bigger than that.)

The parallels to last year are kind of funny.  We'll laugh about it someday.

Unexpected hospital visit?  Check
Oxygen?  Check
Anni cancelling a big trip?  Check

Ah... life.  And I'm going to end on a non-canula'd face, because hopefully we'll be back there soon.