My Baby

I had to take Beatrice to see a specialist at a nationally renowned children's hospital today. There is a lump on her shoulder that her pediatrician wanted to get checked out. Everything turned out fine and the specialist is 99.9% sure the lump is a hemangioma (buildup of blood vessels). We will know for sure on Friday.

I have known about this appointment for weeks now but haven't put much thought into it. I was too afraid to let myself think too much about what it could mean. It hit me as I circled the multi story parking garage and rode the elevator to the 8th floor (a few floors above pediatric oncology). The fear of something being terribly wrong with my baby hit me and I had to fight back tears. I rode that elevator with parents of sick children and I silently begged God to let my baby be healthy. I waited in the exam room while Beatrice shredded the paper sheet on the table. I just stared at my precious girl. She is so tenderhearted and strong willed, my little goob. I couldn't bear the thought of her having health problems.

I have never taken her health for granted. Before she was born, I prayed that God would keep her healthy and whole. We still pray that over her every night when we lay her down to sleep. I guess that is why I never worried much about her appointment; I know that her health is in God's hands. But being in that hospital with sick babies just broke my heart and rocked me to the core. I will now be praying for sick babies and scared parents.

Thank God for healthy babies and good reports at specialists' offices.

Planned Parenthood (Not the Kind You're Thinking Of)

I tend to be one of those people that is pretty black and white. When I imagine a scenario for my life, no matter how big or small, I leave little room for gray. My brothers are like this too. Hey Mom and Dad, what did you do to us? And while sometimes things turn out just like I planned them (like my birth story), most of the scenarios that involve other people (like my marriage and child) do not. This leaves me fumbling and trying to figure out what went wrong. Why didn't my plan work? And more importantly, how to make it work.

The best example of what I'm talking about is everything I have tried with parenting my child. Everything. All of my grande ideas, every perfect plan I think out for each occasion seems to fall apart.
When I am concocting these brilliant plans, I always forget that I am dealing with another person. A very little person with a very big will. And she foils my plan every. single. time. You'd think that I would have multiple plans in place so when one gets foiled, there is another readily available but I'm not that clever. And I never think my plan won't work. After all, these are brilliant plans people.

Before I had Beatrice, my biggest goal was to not raise a spoiled brat. You know the kid I'm talking about, the kid that only eats marshmallows and raisins. The kid that screams and beats their chest when you say it's time to go home. The kid that doesn't mind, the kid that says you're not the boss of me, the kid that gets their way by whining, the kid that takes over your house, marriage, relationships, finances, career all because they are a holy terror and you don't know what the heck to do with them because you are a little scared of them. You know, that kid. Basically, my worst nightmare.

I was raised by parents whose mantra was "spare the rod and spoil the child," Proverbs 13:24. They tolerated very little "misbehavior." Actually, they didn't tolerate ANY misbehavior. We were raised with an iron fist. A very loving iron fist, but iron nonetheless. I am not saying that my parenting style will be as ardent as theirs, but if you asked me 8 months ago before this little one came into my life I would have told you that the only way to parent was with a no-nonsense mentality. If you are lenient with the small stuff (like giving a paci), then your kid will walk all over you with the big stuff (we boiled the pacis on night four home from the hospital....). We were hugely against giving Beatrice a pacifier because we thought it would be a terrible habit to break later on. And I REALLY don't want to have the 5 year kid walking around with a paci. Second worst nightmare.


Now that she is here, everything that I said I would never/always do has been nothing more than a lofty idea. I'm not talking about discipline because she is too little for that, even though she throws a mean temper tantrum if I withhold my car keys and cellphone from her. Right now I'm talking about the way I feed her, the way I sleep trained her, the way I kind of give her anything she wants if it means she doesn't throw a tantrum/smiles. Who am I kidding, I don't possess a speck of iron in me. Mom, teach me your ways. Which leaves me wondering how the heck I am going to parent a toddler. And then a teenager. I only have one plan: the strict, discipline-her-to-the-max plan. I haven't thought out any other way to handle a real, full fledged toddler temper tantrum let alone a teenage crisis. I am not against spanking at all, but does every offense warrant it? And when those big teary eyes look into mine after she disobeys and says, "I didn't do it Mommy," will I have the strength to follow through with correcting her? After all, my heart melts for those eyes. 


Knowing all of this now should convince me to figure out another plan or at least have a backup plan to the original plan. But I haven't. And what I have learned in my 8 months as a parent is there is a lot of gray in parenting. Sure there is plenty of black and white. When she tells a lie, there will be correcting. Black and white. When she hits someone, punishment. Black and white. But when she has a meltdown because she has missed a nap and it's not necessarily bad behavior at play, what then? Where is the line drawn between doing the hard job of discipline and accidentally raising a spoiled brat? What behaviors can be ignored and still not end up with a hooligan?

I don't have it in me to parent the way my parents did. I know they did the best they could but I don't want to mistake my child's curiosity for questioning authority. I want Beatrice to grow up with a healthy fear respect for us but still have the assurance that we love her and want her to be herself. A godly, non-bratty version of herself of course. And if she doesn't turn out to be a sweet, humble, meek, God-fearing person, it will probably be my fault.

A Blessed Event

I love weddings. I love the excitement of a life shared. I love the dresses and suits. I love the flowers and the music. All of it makes me cry with joy for the couple. JD too. Our good friends Brandon and Kristen got married this weekend and it was a marvelous event. They dated for something like 10 years so it was a huge celebration that we did not want to miss. As expected, when they exchanged those solemn promises to each other, our eyes filled with tears. JD's were very masculine, manly tears though. I assure you.

I suppose I get so emotional at weddings because of the enormity of the commitment taking place. Two people are vowing to love, honor and respect each other for a lifetime. Not to mention raise babies, help each other through the ups and downs and share a life together. And while you're standing before God, friends and family in that white dress and suit, it is so easy to feel those things you're saying and mean them. It's when you've been married for a minute, the bills need to be paid and the dirty socks lying on the floor (that never seemed to bother you before you got married) make you want to scream is when those vows seem like the dumbest thing you've ever said before.

I guess I cry at weddings because I am so excited for the couple. Excited that they will get to experience the most wonderful relationship on earth. The relationship that teaches us how to forgive, love without condition, become parents, make a home, see the best in others even when we know the worst about them, apologize, and on and on. It is a relationship that should never be stagnant but grows and strengthens with time. Even when the honeymoon phase is over and the realities of life make it seem like a lot of work to love the person you're sharing your life with. 


And that is what I wish for our friends: a life of love and respect, lots of babies filling their home, and an ever growing relationship together. Here are some photos of their wedding. I have a crappy camera and a photographer I am not, so please excuse the poor quality of the photos. 

The wedding was in an old wine cellar, practically underground. The room had stone walls, stone floors and a stone ceiling. It was lit with tons of candles.

The reception was outdoors on the lawn and under a huge tent. It was a morning wedding so they served brunch with mimosas, bloody marys and pink lemonade.

We laid a table cloth in the grass for Beatrice to play so we could eat and celebrate with the other guests.

It was a great wedding and I wish Brandon and Kristen the best! On a side note, Beatrice did great on the 10 hour trip. We decided to leave at night so she could sleep most of the way. She did, however we did not. We were zombies the next day. Not the flesh eating kind, just the really tired kind. But a little exhaustion was worth it for a quiet trip with not even a peep from our little one.

Seen And Heard

Tonight we leave for our friends' wedding in Ohio. We have to travel 10 hours. With a baby. Uggggh, I dread this trip. Last month we drove 7 hours to the beach and Beatrice slept 45 minutes the entire drive. The other 6 hours and 15 minutes she fussed and whined. I sat in the backseat singing and entertaining her and by the time we got home, no one wanted to talk to each other for a couple of days.

I don't mind the entertaining in the backseat for several hours, it's the fussiness and whining that I don't want anyone else to have to deal with. My brother and sister in law are driving with us. They don't have children yet. I'm one of those people that gets uncomfortable for others in uncomfortable situations. I never want to be that parent with the screaming child in the grocery store or have the kid that won't quit talking during church. I feel like a failure as a parent if I can't get my child to be happy or better yet, quiet. And when I can't make her look out the window happily quiet for a 10 hour car ride, I feel like everyone blames me.

I think it's safe to say that when most people hear the kid having a meltdown on aisle 5, they automatically blame the parent. "If that were my child, I would take them to the bathroom and deal with the situation." "Why can't they get a handle on their kid?" "My child has/will never act like that." I've been guilty of the same thoughts when in the presence of a temper tantrum. Now that I'm a parent, I know how much anxiety there is for the parent when the kid is losing it. First of all, sometimes the kid isn't having a temper tantrum (like my baby, she's a perfect angel). Many times Beatrice is overtired and needs a nap but because I wanted to squeeze in one more errand, she just can't handle the extra stimulation. Or she's hungry or wet or whatever, but not every cry means the child is unmanageable. Nonetheless, there is still that pressure on the parent to prevent their child from disrupting everyone else in earshot.

I guess I don't want anyone to think that I can't handle my baby or worse, think that she is hard to handle. And my crazy empathy for others in uncomfortable situations makes it hard for me to relax and accept that no one expects her to do or be anything on this trip other than a baby. A baby who may cry or fuss or be unhappy about being in a car seat for 10 hours.

Baby Proofing

Beatrice can crawl now. She can only go backwards but that still counts, right? We find her under chairs, the ottoman and the cabinet in the foyer.

This means we have to baby proof the house. Currently, we baby proof by watching her really closely and keeping her off of the hardwood. Not sure why the hardwood is so dangerous (and I obviously failed at it this morning as the picture above clearly shows) but JD is adamant that she can crack her skull on it.

Our place is basically a death trap in its present state. According to websites and other parents who are smarter more experienced than us, we need outlet covers, gates, door locks, cabinet traps and other precautionary items. I guess we thought we'd have more time. Or maybe we think we are really good "watchers." But every time I check my email and take my eye off of her for a moment, she is eating my computer power cord with her feet the only visible body part peaking out from under the ottoman. Don't worry, the cord is unplugged from the wall.

JD and I promised each other we'd never have that house that looked like Babies R Us exploded in it. We wanted the living room to house furniture only, no toy piles allowed. Oh how naive we were. Baby proofing just seemed like a good way to mess up our house. Until now. We are in desperate need of a major safety overhaul. But in typical JD-Aly fashion, instead of doing the normal things like getting those outlet covers and baby gates, we are discussing getting rid of furniture. Because she could bump her head or worse, try to climb a bookshelf. So now, instead of those pesky toy piles that we forbade to exist in our living room, we push the ottoman out of the way so she has the entire area rug to play on. The ottoman serves as a great baby gate. This works for now but it is a royal pain in the rear to rearrange furniture a couple times a day.

This week we will probably break down and get the necessary baby proofing items. It's not that we don't want her to be safe, I think this whole mobile phase just snuck up on us and as first timers we are learning our way. But I wouldn't be surprised if our house ends up looking like one of those jump bounce houses that are all the rage at children's birthday parties. We wouldn't want her to bump her head.

Weekend of Favorite Things

I always said I would never write a post that detailed every little thing that I did because let's be honest, those posts aren't interesting to anyone but relatives. But I had a really great weekend packed full of my favorite things and I wanted to share a few of them here. I hope no one is bored to tears....

The great weekend started on Friday when I perused the produce department of my third favorite place on earth, Whole Foods. We were there looking for ingredients for my newest venture: bread baking. I ended up eating a salad that weighed a whopping pound and a half. Seriously. There is a massive salad bar wing at Whole Foods that offers every imaginable salad ingredient and containers full of not so common ingredients. I had spinach with fired roasted tomatoes, citrus garlic beets, roasted free-range chicken, bleu cheese mountains, grilled asparagus and zucchini, quinoa, and cranberries with Greek vinaigrette. Once you make your salad to perfection, you take it to the register where the cashier weighs it. Mine came in at a pound and a half (bowl not included) and I woofed down every bit of it. I could go to Whole Foods every day and just browse the handmade delicacies and sample the organic produce. Beatrice got to try some organic peaches and raspberry puree and baby rice cakes. She was a big fan. My little crunchy baby, I'm so proud.

Next, we went to my second favorite place, Anthropologie. My first favorite place is NYC, oh what a wonderful place. I once saw a documentary about a man whose life goal was to visit every McDonald's in the world. I'm like that with Anthropologie. Each store is so unique and spectacularly girlie, I could spend hours in there. And did on Friday. I was shopping for a dress to wear to my sweet friend Kristen's wedding this weekend. I am reading a passage at the wedding so I need a new dress for the occasion. I rarely buy new clothes. As a stay at home mom, my wardrobe consists of tanks and shorts and the casual cotton dress on Sunday for church. When I do shop, I am always mindful of quick access for nursing Beatrice. It isn't practical to wear something that involves disrobing six times a days to feed the baby. So I bought this dress:

It is neither practical nor does it provide easy access for nursing. But it is beautiful and girlie and I feel really pretty in it. I don't really know what I'll do about nursing at the wedding, I suppose JD will have to help me in the bathroom or something. It doesn't really matter. The dress is awesome and I can't wait to wear it. I'm starting to get that barfy feeling thinking about speaking at the wedding though.......


The weekend of my favorite things kept getting better. On Saturday we hit up the local farmer's market. As soon as we got there, the sky opened up and there was a torrential downpour. It's times like these that I'm really glad I decided to bring the baby. We huddled up under a tent with one of the merchants. They were more than willing to let us pile in since the poor, little baby was getting wet.....and her mama really didn't want to wash her hair again. We tasted some great local fare and got some ideas for a booth of our own.......maybe. I got word that the library was having a book sale so after the market, we went to check it out. They were selling as many books as you could stuff into a paper grocery bag for $5. We got some great books for Beatrice. I was tickled.

Then we came home and I baked bread from scratch. No starter, no pre-measured mix, no bread machine. Just my two bare hands, a few natural ingredients and lots of patience (because there are like a 101 steps to baking bread). I made whole wheat honey bread and it turned out perfectly!!

Every thing I read and everyone I talked to said not to expect much from my first loaf. Bread is finicky and a lot of the success comes from experience and "feeling" your dough. Y'all, I felt the heck outta that dough and made some PERFECT bread!! We ate it warm from the oven with butter, we had toast with strawberry jelly, we had ham sandwiches, all made with my bread. I'm psyched. We no longer have to buy bread. Even though a good loaf only cost about $3, but that's not the point. The point is that I can make bread!!!! Beatrice even got to try some teeny pieces.....but we discovered that giving a baby bread that is not toasted is not a great idea. The teeny pieces turned into a large dough ball in the back of her throat and after a pretty good scare, JD and I decided that she is not ready for bread. That is known as a parenting fail in our house....


Sunday rounded out my weekend of favorites. JD's family joined us at church for Father's Day and we had a fun afternoon with my family. A little cuddling with my honey and then we crashed around 9pm. Weekends of favorite things equals two exhausted parents.

Today I did many non-favorite things (changed the sheets, got an oil change, cleaned the litter box, got my brakes worked on, cleaned) but that is usually the way it goes after a weekend of lovely things. It's back to the ol' grind. I am totally inspired by my awesome weekend and inspired to have many more like it this summer. If anyone made it to the bottom of this post, I applaud you. I hope instead of boring you I encouraged you to eat a giant salad or buy something beautifully impractical or stand in the rain with a baby. Actually, don't do that. It is overrated. Whatever you do, enjoy your families and hug your honeys and make the most out of every weekend. We sure did.

Happy Father's Day

Father's Day was one of the best holidays as a kid. We looked forward to a day of fishing and feeding ducks, or doing whatever "dad stuff" we knew my dad loved. We always made him cookies or a cake and gave him handmade cards with a can of cashews. He loved it. He acted like those cashews were just what he wanted and the most thoughtful gift ever. As we got older, the gifts got a little better but we never stopped giving him the nuts. Looking back, I know that the handmade gifts were his favorite because our little hands took the time to make him something we thought he needed or wanted.

See that little cozie up there? I made that for JD for his first father's day. He has a lifetime of gifts like that to look forward to, lucky man. He loves it. Oh, and his handmade card that Beatrice helped make, his fave. He got his real gift a few weeks ago but I wanted to start his father's day celebration off in the traditional Aly-fashion by giving him something my little hands made.

I got a little weepy making JD's cozie. My dad died in a plane crash 10 years ago and if he were here, he would go bananas over that cozie. I would make him one that said Gramps or something. He would think it was the best gift ever. Of course I would pair it with some cashews. But even with loss, today is still one of the best holidays because we celebrate our sweet daddy who also loves handmade gifts from the heart. And nuts, but he is more of a honey roasted peanut guy.


So happy father's day Dada. We love you!