How can I let the months slip by without writing about…poo? Truly, the topic was a motivation for starting the blog in the first place because I feared becoming the obnoxious facebooker constantly posting about the latest ass-plosion (phrase adoringly coined by Graham Vail).

First off, let me just say, we paid good money for that 8 hour “Baby Care Essentials” class where they spent an hour on the topic of diaper changing and never did they warn that our adorable baby girl could have the capability of shooting poop across a room–yep that’s a foreshadow.  Some of our most hysterical moments over the last 5 months revolved around poo.  So, thank you for humoring me as I recall our favorite stories of Alaire’s “BMs” (as they say at daycare).  I’ll remind you, this post ain’t for no yellow-bellies…proceed with caution.

-Alaire’s first three weeks were poopy ones.  It took no time to discover that you better be quick at the changing table.  In fact, diaper changing felt like a scene in an old western when the cowboys took their paces for a shoot-out.  New diaper, wipes and powder ready.  Deep breath before unfastening the dirty scoundrel of a diaper. GO! If this WAS a scene in an old western, Graham and I would be the sorry suckers with the bullet about 1 out of 3 times because WOW could that little behind ambush us with poo.  On one particular day, I was changing her diaper and as I raised her legs for a clean she shot poo with the splatter of a shot-gun.  She hit the wall, the window and me… GRAHAM, I shriek!  He runs to fill the bath, I scoop up Alaire and rush her to the bathroom.  You might think this story is over, but you’d be a fool because the girl rides again.  As Graham bathes our sweet  little girl and I clean the walls, the window and me.  I hear Graham shriek, AHHHHHH!  She just pooped in her bath!

-When Alaire was about 5 weeks, we took our first overnight trip to see my grandparents and Aunt Cathy (FA) & Uncle Greg (UG) in Eugene.  On the way out of town, I met up with my mom, grandma Sally & Hank for lunch at the Olive Garden.  Just as I got to the car I heard the ass-plosion.  I pulled her diaper bag to the back of the SUV and began her diaper change. Here’s one of those times when I would have been the sorry sucker with the bullet.  After cleaning her up and prepping a new diaper, she started peeing!  With the slippery plastic changing mat, pee rolled all the way her back and soaked her clothes.  I stripped her naked to give her a wet-wipe bath and then the plastic bag for the poo diaper started flying away.  The Portlander in me couldn’t possibly imagine littering, so before I knew it I was chasing a purple plastic bag through the Olive Garden parking lot with a naked baby in my arms.  Seeing my mom and Grandma chatting at their cars, I screamed, HELP!!!!  I scooped up the plastic bag, rushed back to the car and laid Alaire back on her changing mat.  What is this?  There was bark and dirt all over my little baby, thanks to the plastic bag landing in the flowerbed.  Could this moment get any more ridiculous?! Thankfully, the drama ended there…

-If Alaire’s first three weeks were poopy, the next few weeks we waited on vigil for days at a time for the “BIG ONE.”  Apparently a normal phenomenon, breast-fed babies can go several days between BMs, making for an explosive and giant diaper.  Oh God! All hands on deck!  One night, after a few slow poo days Graham and I slumbered hard (oh precious precious sleep) until suddenly we both woke with a start to a most frightening noise! Did a dirty old trucker break into our house to use the bathroom?  No, it’s just our sweet, slumbering, adorable baby girl with talents we never imagined!

-If you follow our blog, you know that we spent Tuesdays during maternity leave in Salem with my parents.  On one of the last of our spoiled summer Tuesday adventures, Grandpa Don was holding Miss Alaire in his chair.  With the new ability  of holding her head up high, like a big person, she stood on Grandpa’s lap.  Suddenly, my sweet little girl gave a gleeful smile then proceeded to squat, letting a “Big One” rip. GASPS from Don, Mom and myself!  Will I ever stop being surprised by my daughter’s poopful talents?

-Speaking of the “BIG ONE,” most hilarious is our dog Kenzie’s reaction to Alaire’s house-shaking ass-plosions.  As you have read, they can be quite surprising…and apparently frightening to the canine population.  When a “BIG ONE” hits, our poor dog BOLTS from the room, and I mean that dog can’t get away from Alaire fast enough!  Is it fright, shame, embarrassment or simply, don’t blame it on me, that runs through Kenzie’s head? If I were a lavishly rich women, I might be tempted to hire a Pet Psychiatrist to get to the bottom (no pun intended) of this mystery.

And, that’s the Poo Chronicles Folks!

As with most Hawks games in our household, we start off happy and end up snoozing!

My new schedule presents the challenge of absolutely no time to blog.  But these posts buzz around in my head until I start to feel panicky that I will forget the details of the stories I want to share with Alaire someday. So, I steal a few moments at work.  Don’t judge!  I’m not taking a lunch today! Last Wednesday marked my first day back to work and Alaire’s first real day at daycare.  I anticpated the emotional build-up by not sleeping the week before and feeling constant tummy butterflies.  I even “practiced” my morning routine to prepare.  My new schedule includes:
4:45am wake-up, pump, drink lots of coffee
5:00 workout or run
6:00 shower
6:45 Alaire wakes and eats
7:15 make smoothies and get bottles ready
7:30 hit the road
8:00 settle Alaire in at daycare
8:30 get to work

My words were true during the many conversations where I declared my passion for my job since becoming pregnant.  I LOVE what I do and thinking about my projects induces an incredible rush.  But leaving Alaire that first morning just sucked.  My friend sleep aborted about two hours before the alarm so I got up early and typed up a list of instructions and tendencies for Andrea, Alaire’s “teacher,” then went for a 5 mile run.

I packed our “work” bags the night before and our mound (literally) of gear waited by the back door.  Graham helped me load the car and probably gave me 100 hugs to console my aching heart and nervous head.  Why didn’t I think to buy waterproof mascara?

I held it together for our commute in, distracting myself with my favorite NPR programming, but after parking and fumbling with the stroller my flimsy dam of tears broke again.  I started to walk towards the back door of the building that houses the daycare and someone from the play ground hollered, not that door, then pointed to another door.  But there were two doors where she pointed and I of course chose the wrong one.  Nope, not that one, it’s the middle one.  First day, I muttered.  It’s okay, we’ve all had our first days.

Next, a construction worker stopped me in the lobby to ask if I was okay.  First day of daycare, I replied.  She’s in good hands, he exclaimed.  This is getting obnoxious, I thought to myself.  I punched in the code to the Infant 1 room and felt relieved to be alone.  I set Alaire on a play mat and unloaded the diapers into her assigned bin, her clothes into her drawer and her sleep-sack and pacifiers into her bed.  Next another mom arrived, took one look at me and said, it’s your first day!!  I just want to hug you, which made me cry more.  Finally Andrea, Alaire’s teacher came from another room and  we walked through the instructions for feedings, naps, what makes Alaire happy and what makes her mad.  I think I told her 10 times I would be back in 2 hours to feed Alaire.

All the while, my sweet little daughter just smiled.  I left her smiling again on Thursday and again on Friday as if to say, I’m going to have fun today mom!

Why do I have a feeling this scene will play out many times over as my daughter seeks new adventures and I work to balance life as a mother, wife, marketer and runner.

Our girl is 4 months today!  This past month she entertained us with some of her best tricks yet!  On July 26th she rolled over for the first time, witnesses present included myself, Grandma Rita & “Aunt” Sheryl LaRoi.  Not to exclude the male folk of the family, her second successful rollover attempt was in front of Daddy & Grandpa Art.  As for sleep, stop reading right now and knock on wood, because this baby sleeps 10-13 hours a night since about two months old!

Even more thrilling is how often she flashes that sweet loving smile that makes me drop the laundry or dishes to run over, pick her up and reward her with a thousand kisses.  Her little laughs come more easily now, but one of my favorite reactions is when she opens her mouth wide and happy like she wants to laugh but nothing comes out.  It sends me into a giggle fit and then she grins even wider and we go back and forth.  I know this phase will pass and soon her noises will be plenty, but I just love it.

Let’s see, other tricks include holding her head up like a big girl and having the cutest, chubbiest, roly-poly legs of any infant known to mankind.  She spends loads of time bouncing in her jungle chair or playing on her ocean mat, babbling and squealing at Mr. Octopus.  She loves bath time with Daddy (I have only given two baths since her birth) and uses those strong legs to splash water all over Daddy and the kitchen floor.  Currently we are working to establish a nap and eating schedule so I can plan my meetings around nursing her at lunch after going back to work.  The cat-nap routine makes for a cranky baby in the evenings so longer naps during the day is our quest.  Some days it is still a battle of wills, she fights sleep, I fight the urge to open the door and cuddle her.

Today I took the opportunity to clean out her dresser since this little chunk is already wearing 6-12 month clothing.  I had myself a good cry fest when I pulled out the little strawberry jammies she wore home from the hospital.  I remember buying the little outfit when I was about 6 months pregnant when I wished every day would move faster so we could meet our little girl.  Now, of course, I wish time would slow down because there will never be enough time in this life to spend with her.

My heart has itched to write this blog post all summer long and as my maternity leave comes to an end in just three short weeks, I have to say how much I will miss Tuesdays.

Since Alaire’s birth, we visit my parents in Salem every Tuesday.  For one, it gives me a chance to go running and two, it gives my parents some good grandparent time.  Many of my Tuesday runs included day dreaming about what I wanted to say in this post, a couple of times I even made myself cry over my thoughts, requiring a stop and walk stretch to catch my breath.  So here it goes…

Though the years, my Ma and I certainly experienced some disagreements, primarily when “discussing” religion or politics over too many glasses of wine; like two teenage siblings, we KNOW how to push one another’s hot buttons (though I think we finally learned not to drink and discuss).  But now, in the throes of motherhood, I understand my mom in a much deeper way and must express my immense appreciation for all she gave throughout my childhood.

At 19 years old, after two years of marriage my mom gave birth to me.  As the story goes, my mother labored for 36 hours, pushed for 12, finally having me Caesarean.  Being three weeks late, I weighed 9 pounds 12 ounces, no wonder there was no pushing me out the old fashion way.  At 36 and feeling under prepared to have my first child, I marvel at the responsibility my mother assumed at 19.  My brother came along two and a half years later and before his first birthday my father dropped the bomb (via a late night phone call) that he was leaving.  Never one to buy into the notion of “victim-hood” my Ma marched on with the love and support of my grandparents and I really only remember my early childhood days as happy.  A few years later, my mom remarried and gave us a little sister with bright red hair (which is particularly significant since I am brunette and my brother is blonde), and who, we would soon discover was born deaf and legally blind.  Three kids equal chaos even in normal circumstances, but according to my memories, my mom took all three of us and my sister’s challenges in beautiful stride.  Soon life included sign language classes, hearing and speech center events and learning how to be a part of the deaf community.  I am certain perseverance and resilience, two of my best qualities, are gifts handed down directly from my mother.

While I know financial resources were quite limited, my mom found a way to allow us to sport the latest styles from L.A. Gear high tops to esprit school bags.  And, as I discovered my joy of singing and performing, as cliché as it sounds, my mother was my biggest fan.  My best (and only number) was God Bless the U.S.A singing and signing.  My mom sewed me a blue satin dress with silver stars and a sequin belt.   Between talent shows, star search semi-finals, church performances and family gatherings my poor mother must have heard that song hundreds (no exaggeration) of times.

Another memory that strikes me is when I competed in the Oregon Junior Miss pageant between my junior and senior year of high school.  The show included about 5 costume changes and my mother made me a dress for each one.  Most impressive was my formal gown made of emerald green shantung with a delicate hand-sewn lace trim around the bottom hem.  My mom took me to a special fabric store in Portland to shop for the lace and you bet we found just the right thing, which I’m sure was about $40 a yard.  I sincerely hope my siblings weren’t forced to eat ramen noodles so I could have my lace.  During the week leading up to the competition, all of the contestants stayed with home-stays and my mother sent me with a basket of gifts and inspirational notes with instructions to open one each day.  The thought, time and heart that went into these little gifts creates a lump in my throat to this day and I just want to say, Mom, I remember and I appreciate.

Before having Alaire, there are a few things my mother said when I was growing up that I swore I would never say to my daughter:
1) You’re so dramatic!

2) Look at those Clawd-Hoppers! (Claud Hop•pers, 1. The lower extremity of the vertebrate leg that is in direct contact with the ground in standing or walking. 2. Commonly known as big feet)

3) Give Alaire a ridiculous nickname like Poops (seriously, the entire family still calls me poops)

To my amusement, I have already said both #1 and #2 to Alaire multiple times in her short three and a half months of life and Graham and I called her, “little goat” for the first two months of her life.  Now we lovingly call her “monkey” and I am sure there will be sillier nicknames assigned as her personality blooms.  I happily accept a few revelations from this; I take myself less seriously since becoming a mother, I understand that the above statements when spoken by my mother were meant to be terms of endearment rather than criticisms, and it is inevitable I am a lot like my mother….and proud of it…

I cannot end this post without mentioning Don, or rather Dad, the name he really deserves.  Those of you who know my story know of Kari, my best friend during senior year and now officially my step-sister.  As I watch Don/Dad hold and cuddle my daughter for hours every Tuesday, I can only think how proud Kari would be watching her Dad as a “puddle of mush” Grandpa.  Thank God for Mom & Dad…and Tuesdays.

After weeks of anticipation for Alaire’s first laugh, she made it a memorable one.  This story is slightly at Gradama Rita’s expense, but she enjoyed a good laugh over it as well, so we’ll go ahead and tell.

Milking our last few days of vacation and taking big advantage of Grandma babysitting services, Graham and I snuck in 9 more holes of golf this morning with Art.  When we arrived home, Alaire was hungry (and I was glad) so we rushed down stairs to fill her belly.  After feeding, I layed her on the bed to talk and play and realized her one-sie was on backwards.  Graham joined us, and I said to Alaire, “Don’t tell Grandma, but she put your shirt on backwards,” both Graham and I chuckled…and to our surprise, miss Aaire joined in with a great big belly laugh! We both laughed harder and she answered with an even louder and bigger laugh, sending both Graham and I into a fit of matress rolling giggles.  Well done Grandma Rita!