Morgen's "Pink Fuzzy"

When I was expecting Morgen, my mother gave me a pair of unusual pyjamas. Think of a over-sized hooded jogging suit made entirely of buble gum pink fun fur. It's the kind of sleepwear that Gavin describes as "not your most fetching." He complains whenever I pack the pjs for a trip, because they take up about a quarter of our suitcase.

Why do I pack them every time we go anywhere? It's not because I have an affinity for big fluffy pink things, although admittedly, the suit is extremely comfortable. It's because of Morgen. Since weaning, Morgen's ultimate comfort object has been the big "pink fuzzy." It happened by accident. In the fall, when it got cold in our apartment and when I was spending most nights awake in Morgen's room, I took to wearing the pink fuzzy pretty much all the time. And after months of enjoying late night cuddles and bedtime lullabies wrapped in my fun fur-clad arms, Morgen has decided that the fuzzy pink should be loved in return. Lately I've been considering modifying the jacket by removing the zippers and sewing up the pockets, etc., so that I can put it into Morgen's crib at night. But if I do this, where will it end? Will we have to pack up the pink fuzzy and send it off to college along with Morgen when she grows up? I have this very unsettling mental image of Morgen huddled in front of a study desk late at night, with a tattered, grey-pink cape hanging from her head by the remains of a threadbare hood.

Some babies get attached to blankies, others to toys. I've heard of one little boy who loved his soother literally to pieces. My brother probably still has "BuBu" the blue bear in his bedroom closet. And all of that is ok, as far as I'm concerned. I'm not the type who would progressively cut Morgen's pink fuzzy into pieces until she has less and less of it to love. Mostly I'm amused by her attachment to the hoodie. But I am a bit sorry it had to be pink.

A Slice of Country Life

Small town Ontario is looking better and better to me - and to Morgen as well, I think. These two pictures were taken during our recent visit to Keene. Morgen played outside, played inside, became kissing buddies with two small dogs, celebrated a cousin's wedding, and enjoyed getting to know her extended family. As usual, we failed to capture most of these moments on camera. But at least we got one of a sleepy snack with Grandpa.

As I was putting the living room in order this week, listening to Gavin read Morgen a bedtime book through the monitor, and humming "Tidy up now, tidy up now, toys away" under my breath, the immense change in my life struck me all at once and I was momentarily overwhelmed. I looked at the impressive pile of books, blocks, rattles, and cuddly things, and I realized that all of it, every last thing, had been gifted to us. 

Not only is my present membership in the mommy club a sort of unexpected gift (as many of you know, we found ourselves suddenly pregnant very shortly after deciding to be 'open' to the idea of pregnancy), but most of the toys, the furniture, and the clothes that our daughter enjoys every day have been generously given to us by friends and family. We are very lucky to have you. What I'm saying is: thanks.  

If you'd been here on Morgen's actual birthday last week, I'm sure she would have expressed her appreciation by trying to get you to eat her cupcake. As it is, she spent a good deal of time jamming cake at her Daddy.

  

Happy Birthday!

It's hard to believe, but one year ago today, Morgen Lovett Hammel made her first appearance outside the confines of the sonogram room. The past year has been a bit of a rollercoaster ride for all three of us - between the numerous trips to the emergency room, the food strikes, the adventures in insomnia - and the coming year promises more of the same, but I can honestly say that, for my part (and I know Jess feels the same), I can no longer imagine my life without Morgen's little face greeting me in the morning.

In any case, to mark this momentous occasion, we threw Morgen a little party in the backyard. It was a lot of fun, and although Morgen did not demolish her cake the way some babies do - she is far too dainty and well-mannered for such a thing - she did take a few tentative bites of frosting. Happy Birthday Morgen!

 

The Princess and the Peas

Alternate title: Morgen versus the peas.

Trial Data (qualitative data only, of course)

Pureed peas = yuck, gag me, barf-o-rama.

Mashed peas = you think you can fool me with this crap?

Crushed individual peas = I'm not THAT stupid. These are PEAS! For crying out loud.

Cut up, but otherwise intact peas = you have somewhat ap-peas-ed me. I'll eat two.

Peas that have been peeled (not as hard as it sounds) = munch munch munch.

I think this child qualifies as a picky eater.